"The Son Of Tarzan\n\n\nBy\n\nEdgar Rice Burroughs\n\n\n\n\nTo Hulbert Burroughs\n\n\n\n\nChapter 1\n\n\nThe long boat of the Marjorie W. was floating down the broad Ugambi\nwith ebb tide and current.  Her crew were lazily enjoying this respite\nfrom the arduous labor of rowing up stream.  Three miles below them lay\nthe Marjorie W.  herself, quite ready to sail so soon as they should\nhave clambered aboard and swung the long boat to its davits.  Presently\nthe attention of every man was drawn from his dreaming or his gossiping\nto the northern bank of the river.  There, screaming at them in a\ncracked falsetto and with skinny arms outstretched, stood a strange\napparition of a man.\n\n\"Wot the 'ell?\" ejaculated one of the crew.\n\n\"A white man!\" muttered the mate, and then:  \"Man the oars, boys, and\nwe'll just pull over an' see what he wants.\"\n\nWhen they came close to the shore they saw an emaciated creature with\nscant white locks tangled and matted.  The thin, bent body was naked\nbut for a loin cloth.  Tears were rolling down the sunken pock-marked\ncheeks.  The man jabbered at them in a strange tongue.\n\n\"Rooshun,\" hazarded the mate.  \"Savvy English?\" he called to the man.\n\nHe did, and in that tongue, brokenly and haltingly, as though it had\nbeen many years since he had used it, he begged them to take him with\nthem away from this awful country.  Once on board the Marjorie W. the\nstranger told his rescuers a pitiful tale of privation, hardships, and\ntorture, extending over a period of ten years.  How he happened to have\ncome to Africa he did not tell them, leaving them to assume he had\nforgotten the incidents of his life prior to the frightful ordeals that\nhad wrecked him mentally and physically.  He did not even tell them his\ntrue name, and so they knew him only as Michael Sabrov, nor was there\nany resemblance between this sorry wreck and the virile, though\nunprincipled, Alexis Paulvitch of old.\n\nIt had been ten years since the Russian had escaped the fate of his\nfriend, the arch-fiend Rokoff, and not once, but many times during\nthose ten years had Paulvitch cursed the fate that had given to\nNicholas Rokoff death and immunity from suffering while it had meted to\nhim the hideous terrors of an existence infinitely worse than the death\nthat persistently refused to claim him.\n\nPaulvitch had taken to the jungle when he had seen the beasts of Tarzan\nand their savage lord swarm the deck of the Kincaid, and in his terror\nlest Tarzan pursue and capture him he had stumbled on deep into the\njungle, only to fall at last into the hands of one of the savage\ncannibal tribes that had felt the weight of Rokoff's evil temper and\ncruel brutality.  Some strange whim of the chief of this tribe saved\nPaulvitch from death only to plunge him into a life of misery and\ntorture.  For ten years he had been the butt of the village, beaten and\nstoned by the women and children, cut and slashed and disfigured by the\nwarriors; a victim of often recurring fevers of the most malignant\nvariety.  Yet he did not die.  Smallpox laid its hideous clutches upon\nhim; leaving him unspeakably branded with its repulsive marks.  Between\nit and the attentions of the tribe the countenance of Alexis Paulvitch\nwas so altered that his own mother could not have recognized in the\npitiful mask he called his face a single familiar feature.  A few\nscraggly, yellow-white locks had supplanted the thick, dark hair that\nhad covered his head.  His limbs were bent and twisted, he walked with\na shuffling, unsteady gait, his body doubled forward.  His teeth were\ngone--knocked out by his savage masters.  Even his mentality was but a\nsorry mockery of what it once had been.\n\nThey took him aboard the Marjorie W., and there they fed and nursed\nhim.  He gained a little in strength; but his appearance never altered\nfor the better--a human derelict, battered and wrecked, they had found\nhim; a human derelict, battered and wrecked, he would remain until\ndeath claimed him.  Though still in his thirties, Alexis Paulvitch\ncould easily have passed for eighty.  Inscrutable Nature had demanded\nof the accomplice a greater penalty than his principal had paid.\n\nIn the mind of Alexis Paulvitch there lingered no thoughts of\nrevenge--only a dull hatred of the man whom he and Rokoff had tried to\nbreak, and failed.  There was hatred, too, of the memory of Rokoff, for\nRokoff had led him into the horrors he had undergone.  There was hatred\nof the police of a score of cities from which he had had to flee.\nThere was hatred of law, hatred of order, hatred of everything.  Every\nmoment of the man's waking life was filled with morbid thought of\nhatred--he had become mentally as he was physically in outward\nappearance, the personification of the blighting emotion of Hate.  He\nhad little or nothing to do with the men who had rescued him.  He was\ntoo weak to work and too morose for company, and so they quickly left\nhim alone to his own devices.\n\nThe Marjorie W. had been chartered by a syndicate of wealthy\nmanufacturers, equipped with a laboratory and a staff of scientists,\nand sent out to search for some natural product which the manufacturers\nwho footed the bills had been importing from South America at an\nenormous cost.  What the product was none on board the Marjorie W. knew\nexcept the scientists, nor is it of any moment to us, other than that\nit led the ship to a certain island off the coast of Africa after\nAlexis Paulvitch had been taken aboard.\n\nThe ship lay at anchor off the coast for several weeks.  The monotony\nof life aboard her became trying for the crew.  They went often ashore,\nand finally Paulvitch asked to accompany them--he too was tiring of the\nblighting sameness of existence upon the ship.\n\nThe island was heavily timbered.  Dense jungle ran down almost to the\nbeach.  The scientists were far inland, prosecuting their search for\nthe valuable commodity that native rumor upon the mainland had led them\nto believe might be found here in marketable quantity.  The ship's\ncompany fished, hunted, and explored.  Paulvitch shuffled up and down\nthe beach, or lay in the shade of the great trees that skirted it.  One\nday, as the men were gathered at a little distance inspecting the body\nof a panther that had fallen to the gun of one of them who had been\nhunting inland, Paulvitch lay sleeping beneath his tree.  He was\nawakened by the touch of a hand upon his shoulder.  With a start he sat\nup to see a huge, anthropoid ape squatting at his side, inspecting him\nintently.  The Russian was thoroughly frightened.  He glanced toward\nthe sailors--they were a couple of hundred yards away.  Again the ape\nplucked at his shoulder, jabbering plaintively.  Paulvitch saw no\nmenace in the inquiring gaze, or in the attitude of the beast.  He got\nslowly to his feet.  The ape rose at his side.\n\nHalf doubled, the man shuffled cautiously away toward the sailors.  The\nape moved with him, taking one of his arms.  They had come almost to\nthe little knot of men before they were seen, and by this time\nPaulvitch had become assured that the beast meant no harm.  The animal\nevidently was accustomed to the association of human beings.  It\noccurred to the Russian that the ape represented a certain considerable\nmoney value, and before they reached the sailors he had decided he\nshould be the one to profit by it.\n\nWhen the men looked up and saw the oddly paired couple shuffling toward\nthem they were filled with amazement, and started on a run toward the\ntwo.  The ape showed no sign of fear.  Instead he grasped each sailor\nby the shoulder and peered long and earnestly into his face.  Having\ninspected them all he returned to Paulvitch's side, disappointment\nwritten strongly upon his countenance and in his carriage.\n\nThe men were delighted with him.  They gathered about, asking Paulvitch\nmany questions, and examining his companion.  The Russian told them\nthat the ape was his--nothing further would he offer--but kept harping\ncontinually upon the same theme, \"The ape is mine.  The ape is mine.\"\nTiring of Paulvitch, one of the men essayed a pleasantry.  Circling\nabout behind the ape he prodded the anthropoid in the back with a pin.\nLike a flash the beast wheeled upon its tormentor, and, in the briefest\ninstant of turning, the placid, friendly animal was metamorphosed to a\nfrenzied demon of rage.  The broad grin that had sat upon the sailor's\nface as he perpetrated his little joke froze to an expression of\nterror.  He attempted to dodge the long arms that reached for him; but,\nfailing, drew a long knife that hung at his belt.  With a single wrench\nthe ape tore the weapon from the man's grasp and flung it to one side,\nthen his yellow fangs were buried in the sailor's shoulder.\n\nWith sticks and knives the man's companions fell upon the beast, while\nPaulvitch danced around the cursing, snarling pack mumbling and\nscreaming pleas and threats.  He saw his visions of wealth rapidly\ndissipating before the weapons of the sailors.\n\nThe ape, however, proved no easy victim to the superior numbers that\nseemed fated to overwhelm him.  Rising from the sailor who had\nprecipitated the battle he shook his giant shoulders, freeing himself\nfrom two of the men that were clinging to his back, and with mighty\nblows of his open palms felled one after another of his attackers,\nleaping hither and thither with the agility of a small monkey.\n\nThe fight had been witnessed by the captain and mate who were just\nlanding from the Marjorie W., and Paulvitch saw these two now running\nforward with drawn revolvers while the two sailors who had brought them\nashore trailed at their heels.  The ape stood looking about him at the\nhavoc he had wrought, but whether he was awaiting a renewal of the\nattack or was deliberating which of his foes he should exterminate\nfirst Paulvitch could not guess.  What he could guess, however, was\nthat the moment the two officers came within firing distance of the\nbeast they would put an end to him in short order unless something were\ndone and done quickly to prevent.  The ape had made no move to attack\nthe Russian but even so the man was none too sure of what might happen\nwere he to interfere with the savage beast, now thoroughly aroused to\nbestial rage, and with the smell of new spilled blood fresh in its\nnostrils.  For an instant he hesitated, and then again there rose\nbefore him the dreams of affluence which this great anthropoid would\ndoubtless turn to realities once Paulvitch had landed him safely in\nsome great metropolis like London.\n\nThe captain was shouting to him now to stand aside that he might have a\nshot at the animal; but instead Paulvitch shuffled to the ape's side,\nand though the man's hair quivered at its roots he mastered his fear\nand laid hold of the ape's arm.\n\n\"Come!\" he commanded, and tugged to pull the beast from among the\nsailors, many of whom were now sitting up in wide eyed fright or\ncrawling away from their conqueror upon hands and knees.\n\nSlowly the ape permitted itself to be led to one side, nor did it show\nthe slightest indication of a desire to harm the Russian.  The captain\ncame to a halt a few paces from the odd pair.\n\n\"Get aside, Sabrov!\" he commanded.  \"I'll put that brute where he won't\nchew up any more able seamen.\"\n\n\"It wasn't his fault, captain,\" pleaded Paulvitch.  \"Please don't shoot\nhim.  The men started it--they attacked him first.  You see, he's\nperfectly gentle--and he's mine--he's mine--he's mine!  I won't let you\nkill him,\" he concluded, as his half-wrecked mentality pictured anew\nthe pleasure that money would buy in London--money that he could not\nhope to possess without some such windfall as the ape represented.\n\nThe captain lowered his weapon.  \"The men started it, did they?\" he\nrepeated.  \"How about that?\" and he turned toward the sailors who had\nby this time picked themselves from the ground, none of them much the\nworse for his experience except the fellow who had been the cause of\nit, and who would doubtless nurse a sore shoulder for a week or so.\n\n\"Simpson done it,\" said one of the men.  \"He stuck a pin into the monk\nfrom behind, and the monk got him--which served him bloomin' well\nright--an' he got the rest of us, too, for which I can't blame him,\nsince we all jumped him to once.\"\n\nThe captain looked at Simpson, who sheepishly admitted the truth of the\nallegation, then he stepped over to the ape as though to discover for\nhimself the sort of temper the beast possessed, but it was noticeable\nthat he kept his revolver cocked and leveled as he did so.  However, he\nspoke soothingly to the animal who squatted at the Russian's side\nlooking first at one and then another of the sailors.  As the captain\napproached him the ape half rose and waddled forward to meet him.  Upon\nhis countenance was the same strange, searching expression that had\nmarked his scrutiny of each of the sailors he had first encountered.\nHe came quite close to the officer and laid a paw upon one of the man's\nshoulders, studying his face intently for a long moment, then came the\nexpression of disappointment accompanied by what was almost a human\nsigh, as he turned away to peer in the same curious fashion into the\nfaces of the mate and the two sailors who had arrived with the\nofficers.  In each instance he sighed and passed on, returning at\nlength to Paulvitch's side, where he squatted down once more;\nthereafter evincing little or no interest in any of the other men, and\napparently forgetful of his recent battle with them.\n\nWhen the party returned aboard the Marjorie W., Paulvitch was\naccompanied by the ape, who seemed anxious to follow him.  The captain\ninterposed no obstacles to the arrangement, and so the great anthropoid\nwas tacitly admitted to membership in the ship's company.  Once aboard\nhe examined each new face minutely, evincing the same disappointment in\neach instance that had marked his scrutiny of the others.  The officers\nand scientists aboard often discussed the beast, but they were unable\nto account satisfactorily for the strange ceremony with which he\ngreeted each new face.  Had he been discovered upon the mainland, or\nany other place than the almost unknown island that had been his home,\nthey would have concluded that he had formerly been a pet of man; but\nthat theory was not tenable in the face of the isolation of his\nuninhabited island.  He seemed continually to be searching for someone,\nand during the first days of the return voyage from the island he was\noften discovered nosing about in various parts of the ship; but after\nhe had seen and examined each face of the ship's company, and explored\nevery corner of the vessel he lapsed into utter indifference of all\nabout him.  Even the Russian elicited only casual interest when he\nbrought him food.  At other times the ape appeared merely to tolerate\nhim.  He never showed affection for him, or for anyone else upon the\nMarjorie W., nor did he at any time evince any indication of the savage\ntemper that had marked his resentment of the attack of the sailors upon\nhim at the time that he had come among them.\n\nMost of his time was spent in the eye of the ship scanning the horizon\nahead, as though he were endowed with sufficient reason to know that\nthe vessel was bound for some port where there would be other human\nbeings to undergo his searching scrutiny.  All in all, Ajax, as he had\nbeen dubbed, was considered the most remarkable and intelligent ape\nthat any one aboard the Marjorie W. ever had seen.  Nor was his\nintelligence the only remarkable attribute he owned.  His stature and\nphysique were, for an ape, awe inspiring.  That he was old was quite\nevident, but if his age had impaired his physical or mental powers in\nthe slightest it was not apparent.\n\nAnd so at length the Marjorie W. came to England, and there the\nofficers and the scientists, filled with compassion for the pitiful\nwreck of a man they had rescued from the jungles, furnished Paulvitch\nwith funds and bid him and his Ajax Godspeed.\n\nUpon the dock and all through the journey to London the Russian had his\nhands full with Ajax.  Each new face of the thousands that came within\nthe anthropoid's ken must be carefully scrutinized, much to the horror\nof many of his victims; but at last, failing, apparently, to discover\nwhom he sought, the great ape relapsed into morbid indifference, only\noccasionally evincing interest in a passing face.\n\nIn London, Paulvitch went directly with his prize to a certain famous\nanimal trainer.  This man was much impressed with Ajax with the result\nthat he agreed to train him for a lion's share of the profits of\nexhibiting him, and in the meantime to provide for the keep of both the\nape and his owner.\n\nAnd so came Ajax to London, and there was forged another link in the\nchain of strange circumstances that were to affect the lives of many\npeople.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 2\n\n\nMr. Harold Moore was a bilious-countenanced, studious young man.  He\ntook himself very seriously, and life, and his work, which latter was\nthe tutoring of the young son of a British nobleman.  He felt that his\ncharge was not making the progress that his parents had a right to\nexpect, and he was now conscientiously explaining this fact to the\nboy's mother.\n\n\"It's not that he isn't bright,\" he was saying; \"if that were true I\nshould have hopes of succeeding, for then I might bring to bear all my\nenergies in overcoming his obtuseness; but the trouble is that he is\nexceptionally intelligent, and learns so quickly that I can find no\nfault in the matter of the preparation of his lessons.  What concerns\nme, however, is the fact that he evidently takes no interest whatever\nin the subjects we are studying.  He merely accomplishes each lesson as\na task to be rid of as quickly as possible and I am sure that no lesson\never again enters his mind until the hours of study and recitation once\nmore arrive.  His sole interests seem to be feats of physical prowess\nand the reading of everything that he can get hold of relative to\nsavage beasts and the lives and customs of uncivilized peoples; but\nparticularly do stories of animals appeal to him.  He will sit for\nhours together poring over the work of some African explorer, and upon\ntwo occasions I have found him setting up in bed at night reading Carl\nHagenbeck's book on men and beasts.\"\n\nThe boy's mother tapped her foot nervously upon the hearth rug.\n\n\"You discourage this, of course?\" she ventured.\n\nMr. Moore shuffled embarrassedly.\n\n\"I--ah--essayed to take the book from him,\" he replied, a slight flush\nmounting his sallow cheek; \"but--ah--your son is quite muscular for one\nso young.\"\n\n\"He wouldn't let you take it?\" asked the mother.\n\n\"He would not,\" confessed the tutor.  \"He was perfectly good natured\nabout it; but he insisted upon pretending that he was a gorilla and\nthat I was a chimpanzee attempting to steal food from him.  He leaped\nupon me with the most savage growls I ever heard, lifted me completely\nabove his head, hurled me upon his bed, and after going through a\npantomime indicative of choking me to death he stood upon my prostrate\nform and gave voice to a most fearsome shriek, which he explained was\nthe victory cry of a bull ape.  Then he carried me to the door, shoved\nme out into the hall and locked me from his room.\"\n\nFor several minutes neither spoke again.  It was the boy's mother who\nfinally broke the silence.\n\n\"It is very necessary, Mr. Moore,\" she said, \"that you do everything in\nyour power to discourage this tendency in Jack, he--\"; but she got no\nfurther.  A loud \"Whoop!\" from the direction of the window brought them\nboth to their feet.  The room was upon the second floor of the house,\nand opposite the window to which their attention had been attracted was\na large tree, a branch of which spread to within a few feet of the\nsill.  Upon this branch now they both discovered the subject of their\nrecent conversation, a tall, well-built boy, balancing with ease upon\nthe bending limb and uttering loud shouts of glee as he noted the\nterrified expressions upon the faces of his audience.\n\nThe mother and tutor both rushed toward the window but before they had\ncrossed half the room the boy had leaped nimbly to the sill and entered\nthe apartment with them.\n\n\"'The wild man from Borneo has just come to town,'\" he sang, dancing a\nspecies of war dance about his terrified mother and scandalized tutor,\nand ending up by throwing his arms about the former's neck and kissing\nher upon either cheek.\n\n\"Oh, Mother,\" he cried, \"there's a wonderful, educated ape being shown\nat one of the music halls.  Willie Grimsby saw it last night.  He says\nit can do everything but talk.  It rides a bicycle, eats with knife and\nfork, counts up to ten, and ever so many other wonderful things, and\ncan I go and see it too?  Oh, please, Mother--please let me.\"\n\nPatting the boy's cheek affectionately, the mother shook her head\nnegatively.  \"No, Jack,\" she said; \"you know I do not approve of such\nexhibitions.\"\n\n\"I don't see why not, Mother,\" replied the boy.  \"All the other fellows\ngo and they go to the Zoo, too, and you'll never let me do even that.\nAnybody'd think I was a girl--or a mollycoddle.  Oh, Father,\" he\nexclaimed, as the door opened to admit a tall gray-eyed man.  \"Oh,\nFather, can't I go?\"\n\n\"Go where, my son?\" asked the newcomer.\n\n\"He wants to go to a music hall to see a trained ape,\" said the mother,\nlooking warningly at her husband.\n\n\"Who, Ajax?\" questioned the man.\n\nThe boy nodded.\n\n\"Well, I don't know that I blame you, my son,\" said the father, \"I\nwouldn't mind seeing him myself.  They say he is very wonderful, and\nthat for an anthropoid he is unusually large.  Let's all go, Jane--what\ndo you say?\"  And he turned toward his wife, but that lady only shook\nher head in a most positive manner, and turning to Mr. Moore asked him\nif it was not time that he and Jack were in the study for the morning\nrecitations.  When the two had left she turned toward her husband.\n\n\"John,\" she said, \"something must be done to discourage Jack's tendency\ntoward anything that may excite the cravings for the savage life which\nI fear he has inherited from you.  You know from your own experience\nhow strong is the call of the wild at times.  You know that often it\nhas necessitated a stern struggle on your part to resist the almost\ninsane desire which occasionally overwhelms you to plunge once again\ninto the jungle life that claimed you for so many years, and at the\nsame time you know, better than any other, how frightful a fate it\nwould be for Jack, were the trail to the savage jungle made either\nalluring or easy to him.\"\n\n\"I doubt if there is any danger of his inheriting a taste for jungle\nlife from me,\" replied the man, \"for I cannot conceive that such a\nthing may be transmitted from father to son.  And sometimes, Jane, I\nthink that in your solicitude for his future you go a bit too far in\nyour restrictive measures.  His love for animals--his desire, for\nexample, to see this trained ape--is only natural in a healthy, normal\nboy of his age.  Just because he wants to see Ajax is no indication\nthat he would wish to marry an ape, and even should he, far be it from\nyou Jane to have the right to cry 'shame!'\" and John Clayton, Lord\nGreystoke, put an arm about his wife, laughing good-naturedly down into\nher upturned face before he bent his head and kissed her.  Then, more\nseriously, he continued:  \"You have never told Jack anything concerning\nmy early life, nor have you permitted me to, and in this I think that\nyou have made a mistake.  Had I been able to tell him of the\nexperiences of Tarzan of the Apes I could doubtless have taken much of\nthe glamour and romance from jungle life that naturally surrounds it in\nthe minds of those who have had no experience of it.  He might then\nhave profited by my experience, but now, should the jungle lust ever\nclaim him, he will have nothing to guide him but his own impulses, and\nI know how powerful these may be in the wrong direction at times.\"\n\nBut Lady Greystoke only shook her head as she had a hundred other times\nwhen the subject had claimed her attention in the past.\n\n\"No, John,\" she insisted, \"I shall never give my consent to the\nimplanting in Jack's mind of any suggestion of the savage life which we\nboth wish to preserve him from.\"\n\nIt was evening before the subject was again referred to and then it was\nraised by Jack himself.  He had been sitting, curled in a large chair,\nreading, when he suddenly looked up and addressed his father.\n\n\"Why,\" he asked, coming directly to the point, \"can't I go and see\nAjax?\"\n\n\"Your mother does not approve,\" replied his father.\n\n\"Do you?\"\n\n\"That is not the question,\" evaded Lord Greystoke.  \"It is enough that\nyour mother objects.\"\n\n\"I am going to see him,\" announced the boy, after a few moments of\nthoughtful silence.  \"I am not different from Willie Grimsby, or any\nother of the fellows who have been to see him.  It did not harm them\nand it will not harm me.  I could go without telling you; but I would\nnot do that.  So I tell you now, beforehand, that I am going to see\nAjax.\"\n\nThere was nothing disrespectful or defiant in the boy's tone or manner.\nHis was merely a dispassionate statement of facts.  His father could\nscarce repress either a smile or a show of the admiration he felt for\nthe manly course his son had pursued.\n\n\"I admire your candor, Jack,\" he said.  \"Permit me to be candid, as\nwell.  If you go to see Ajax without permission, I shall punish you.  I\nhave never inflicted corporal punishment upon you, but I warn you that\nshould you disobey your mother's wishes in this instance, I shall.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" replied the boy; and then:  \"I shall tell you, sir, when I\nhave been to see Ajax.\"\n\nMr. Moore's room was next to that of his youthful charge, and it was\nthe tutor's custom to have a look into the boy's each evening as the\nformer was about to retire.  This evening he was particularly careful\nnot to neglect his duty, for he had just come from a conference with\nthe boy's father and mother in which it had been impressed upon him\nthat he must exercise the greatest care to prevent Jack visiting the\nmusic hall where Ajax was being shown.  So, when he opened the boy's\ndoor at about half after nine, he was greatly excited, though not\nentirely surprised to find the future Lord Greystoke fully dressed for\nthe street and about to crawl from his open bed room window.\n\nMr. Moore made a rapid spring across the apartment; but the waste of\nenergy was unnecessary, for when the boy heard him within the chamber\nand realized that he had been discovered he turned back as though to\nrelinquish his planned adventure.\n\n\"Where were you going?\" panted the excited Mr. Moore.\n\n\"I am going to see Ajax,\" replied the boy, quietly.\n\n\"I am astonished,\" cried Mr. Moore; but a moment later he was\ninfinitely more astonished, for the boy, approaching close to him,\nsuddenly seized him about the waist, lifted him from his feet and threw\nhim face downward upon the bed, shoving his face deep into a soft\npillow.\n\n\"Be quiet,\" admonished the victor, \"or I'll choke you.\"\n\nMr. Moore struggled; but his efforts were in vain.  Whatever else\nTarzan of the Apes may or may not have handed down to his son he had at\nleast bequeathed him almost as marvelous a physique as he himself had\npossessed at the same age.  The tutor was as putty in the boy's hands.\nKneeling upon him, Jack tore strips from a sheet and bound the man's\nhands behind his back. Then he rolled him over and stuffed a gag of the\nsame material between his teeth, securing it with a strip wound about\nthe back of his victim's head.  All the while he talked in a low,\nconversational tone.\n\n\"I am Waja, chief of the Waji,\" he explained, \"and you are Mohammed\nDubn, the Arab sheik, who would murder my people and steal my ivory,\"\nand he dexterously trussed Mr. Moore's hobbled ankles up behind to meet\nhis hobbled wrists.  \"Ah--ha!  Villain!  I have you in me power at\nlast.  I go; but I shall return!\"  And the son of Tarzan skipped across\nthe room, slipped through the open window, and slid to liberty by way\nof the down spout from an eaves trough.\n\nMr. Moore wriggled and struggled about the bed.  He was sure that he\nshould suffocate unless aid came quickly.  In his frenzy of terror he\nmanaged to roll off the bed.  The pain and shock of the fall jolted him\nback to something like sane consideration of his plight.  Where before\nhe had been unable to think intelligently because of the hysterical\nfear that had claimed him he now lay quietly searching for some means\nof escape from his dilemma.  It finally occurred to him that the room\nin which Lord and Lady Greystoke had been sitting when he left them was\ndirectly beneath that in which he lay upon the floor.  He knew that\nsome time had elapsed since he had come up stairs and that they might\nbe gone by this time, for it seemed to him that he had struggled about\nthe bed, in his efforts to free himself, for an eternity.  But the best\nthat he could do was to attempt to attract attention from below, and\nso, after many failures, he managed to work himself into a position in\nwhich he could tap the toe of his boot against the floor.  This he\nproceeded to do at short intervals, until, after what seemed a very\nlong time, he was rewarded by hearing footsteps ascending the stairs,\nand presently a knock upon the door.  Mr. Moore tapped vigorously with\nhis toe--he could not reply in any other way.  The knock was repeated\nafter a moment's silence.  Again Mr. Moore tapped.  Would they never\nopen the door!  Laboriously he rolled in the direction of succor.  If\nhe could get his back against the door he could then tap upon its base,\nwhen surely he must be heard.  The knocking was repeated a little\nlouder, and finally a voice called:  \"Mr. Jack!\"\n\nIt was one of the house men--Mr. Moore recognized the fellow's voice.\nHe came near to bursting a blood vessel in an endeavor to scream \"come\nin\" through the stifling gag.  After a moment the man knocked again,\nquite loudly and again called the boy's name.  Receiving no reply he\nturned the knob, and at the same instant a sudden recollection filled\nthe tutor anew with numbing terror--he had, himself, locked the door\nbehind him when he had entered the room.\n\nHe heard the servant try the door several times and then depart.  Upon\nwhich Mr. Moore swooned.\n\nIn the meantime Jack was enjoying to the full the stolen pleasures of\nthe music hall.  He had reached the temple of mirth just as Ajax's act\nwas commencing, and having purchased a box seat was now leaning\nbreathlessly over the rail watching every move of the great ape, his\neyes wide in wonder.  The trainer was not slow to note the boy's\nhandsome, eager face, and as one of Ajax's biggest hits consisted in an\nentry to one or more boxes during his performance, ostensibly in search\nof a long-lost relative, as the trainer explained, the man realized the\neffectiveness of sending him into the box with the handsome boy, who,\ndoubtless, would be terror stricken by proximity to the shaggy,\npowerful beast.\n\nWhen the time came, therefore, for the ape to return from the wings in\nreply to an encore the trainer directed its attention to the boy who\nchanced to be the sole occupant of the box in which he sat.  With a\nspring the huge anthropoid leaped from the stage to the boy's side; but\nif the trainer had looked for a laughable scene of fright he was\nmistaken.  A broad smile lighted the boy's features as he laid his hand\nupon the shaggy arm of his visitor.  The ape, grasping the boy by\neither shoulder, peered long and earnestly into his face, while the\nlatter stroked his head and talked to him in a low voice.\n\nNever had Ajax devoted so long a time to an examination of another as\nhe did in this instance.  He seemed troubled and not a little excited,\njabbering and mumbling to the boy, and now caressing him, as the\ntrainer had never seen him caress a human being before.  Presently he\nclambered over into the box with him and snuggled down close to the\nboy's side.  The audience was delighted; but they were still more\ndelighted when the trainer, the period of his act having elapsed,\nattempted to persuade Ajax to leave the box.  The ape would not budge.\nThe manager, becoming excited at the delay, urged the trainer to\ngreater haste, but when the latter entered the box to drag away the\nreluctant Ajax he was met by bared fangs and menacing growls.\n\nThe audience was delirious with joy.  They cheered the ape.  They\ncheered the boy, and they hooted and jeered at the trainer and the\nmanager, which luckless individual had inadvertently shown himself and\nattempted to assist the trainer.\n\nFinally, reduced to desperation and realizing that this show of mutiny\nupon the part of his valuable possession might render the animal\nworthless for exhibition purposes in the future if not immediately\nsubdued, the trainer had hastened to his dressing room and procured a\nheavy whip.  With this he now returned to the box; but when he had\nthreatened Ajax with it but once he found himself facing two infuriated\nenemies instead of one, for the boy had leaped to his feet, and seizing\na chair was standing ready at the ape's side to defend his new found\nfriend.  There was no longer a smile upon his handsome face.  In his\ngray eyes was an expression which gave the trainer pause, and beside\nhim stood the giant anthropoid growling and ready.\n\nWhat might have happened, but for a timely interruption, may only be\nsurmised; but that the trainer would have received a severe mauling, if\nnothing more, was clearly indicated by the attitudes of the two who\nfaced him.\n\n\nIt was a pale-faced man who rushed into the Greystoke library to\nannounce that he had found Jack's door locked and had been able to\nobtain no response to his repeated knocking and calling other than a\nstrange tapping and the sound of what might have been a body moving\nabout upon the floor.\n\nFour steps at a time John Clayton took the stairs that led to the floor\nabove.  His wife and the servant hurried after him.  Once he called his\nson's name in a loud voice; but receiving no reply he launched his\ngreat weight, backed by all the undiminished power of his giant\nmuscles, against the heavy door.  With a snapping of iron butts and a\nsplintering of wood the obstacle burst inward.\n\nAt its foot lay the body of the unconscious Mr. Moore, across whom it\nfell with a resounding thud.  Through the opening leaped Tarzan, and a\nmoment later the room was flooded with light from a dozen electric\nbulbs.\n\nIt was several minutes before the tutor was discovered, so completely\nhad the door covered him; but finally he was dragged forth, his gag and\nbonds cut away, and a liberal application of cold water had hastened\nreturning consciousness.\n\n\"Where is Jack?\" was John Clayton's first question, and then; \"Who did\nthis?\" as the memory of Rokoff and the fear of a second abduction\nseized him.\n\nSlowly Mr. Moore staggered to his feet.  His gaze wandered about the\nroom.  Gradually he collected his scattered wits.  The details of his\nrecent harrowing experience returned to him.\n\n\"I tender my resignation, sir, to take effect at once,\" were his first\nwords.  \"You do not need a tutor for your son--what he needs is a wild\nanimal trainer.\"\n\n\"But where is he?\" cried Lady Greystoke.\n\n\"He has gone to see Ajax.\"\n\nIt was with difficulty that Tarzan restrained a smile, and after\nsatisfying himself that the tutor was more scared than injured, he\nordered his closed car around and departed in the direction of a\ncertain well-known music hall.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 3\n\n\nAs the trainer, with raised lash, hesitated an instant at the entrance\nto the box where the boy and the ape confronted him, a tall\nbroad-shouldered man pushed past him and entered.  As his eyes fell\nupon the newcomer a slight flush mounted the boy's cheeks.\n\n\"Father!\" he exclaimed.\n\nThe ape gave one look at the English lord, and then leaped toward him,\ncalling out in excited jabbering.  The man, his eyes going wide in\nastonishment, stopped as though turned to stone.\n\n\"Akut!\" he cried.\n\nThe boy looked, bewildered, from the ape to his father, and from his\nfather to the ape.  The trainer's jaw dropped as he listened to what\nfollowed, for from the lips of the Englishman flowed the gutturals of\nan ape that were answered in kind by the huge anthropoid that now clung\nto him.\n\nAnd from the wings a hideously bent and disfigured old man watched the\ntableau in the box, his pock-marked features working spasmodically in\nvarying expressions that might have marked every sensation in the gamut\nfrom pleasure to terror.\n\n\"Long have I looked for you, Tarzan,\" said Akut.  \"Now that I have\nfound you I shall come to your jungle and live there always.\"\n\nThe man stroked the beast's head.  Through his mind there was running\nrapidly a train of recollection that carried him far into the depths of\nthe primeval African forest where this huge, man-like beast had fought\nshoulder to shoulder with him years before.  He saw the black Mugambi\nwielding his deadly knob-stick, and beside them, with bared fangs and\nbristling whiskers, Sheeta the terrible; and pressing close behind the\nsavage and the savage panther, the hideous apes of Akut.  The man\nsighed.  Strong within him surged the jungle lust that he had thought\ndead.  Ah! if he could go back even for a brief month of it, to feel\nagain the brush of leafy branches against his naked hide; to smell the\nmusty rot of dead vegetation--frankincense and myrrh to the jungle\nborn; to sense the noiseless coming of the great carnivora upon his\ntrail; to hunt and to be hunted; to kill!  The picture was alluring.\nAnd then came another picture--a sweet-faced woman, still young and\nbeautiful; friends; a home; a son.  He shrugged his giant shoulders.\n\n\"It cannot be, Akut,\" he said; \"but if you would return, I shall see\nthat it is done.  You could not be happy here--I may not be happy\nthere.\"\n\nThe trainer stepped forward.  The ape bared his fangs, growling.\n\n\"Go with him, Akut,\" said Tarzan of the Apes.  \"I will come and see you\ntomorrow.\"\n\nThe beast moved sullenly to the trainer's side.  The latter, at John\nClayton's request, told where they might be found.  Tarzan turned\ntoward his son.\n\n\"Come!\" he said, and the two left the theater.  Neither spoke for\nseveral minutes after they had entered the limousine.  It was the boy\nwho broke the silence.\n\n\"The ape knew you,\" he said, \"and you spoke together in the ape's\ntongue.  How did the ape know you, and how did you learn his language?\"\n\nAnd then, briefly and for the first time, Tarzan of the Apes told his\nson of his early life--of the birth in the jungle, of the death of his\nparents, and of how Kala, the great she ape had suckled and raised him\nfrom infancy almost to manhood.  He told him, too, of the dangers and\nthe horrors of the jungle; of the great beasts that stalked one by day\nand by night; of the periods of drought, and of the cataclysmic rains;\nof hunger; of cold; of intense heat; of nakedness and fear and\nsuffering.  He told him of all those things that seem most horrible to\nthe creature of civilization in the hope that the knowledge of them\nmight expunge from the lad's mind any inherent desire for the jungle.\nYet they were the very things that made the memory of the jungle what\nit was to Tarzan--that made up the composite jungle life he loved.  And\nin the telling he forgot one thing--the principal thing--that the boy\nat his side, listening with eager ears, was the son of Tarzan of the\nApes.\n\nAfter the boy had been tucked away in bed--and without the threatened\npunishment--John Clayton told his wife of the events of the evening,\nand that he had at last acquainted the boy with the facts of his jungle\nlife.  The mother, who had long foreseen that her son must some time\nknow of those frightful years during which his father had roamed the\njungle, a naked, savage beast of prey, only shook her head, hoping\nagainst hope that the lure she knew was still strong in the father's\nbreast had not been transmitted to his son.\n\nTarzan visited Akut the following day, but though Jack begged to be\nallowed to accompany him he was refused.  This time Tarzan saw the\npock-marked old owner of the ape, whom he did not recognize as the wily\nPaulvitch of former days.  Tarzan, influenced by Akut's pleadings,\nbroached the question of the ape's purchase; but Paulvitch would not\nname any price, saying that he would consider the matter.\n\nWhen Tarzan returned home Jack was all excitement to hear the details\nof his visit, and finally suggested that his father buy the ape and\nbring it home.  Lady Greystoke was horrified at the suggestion.  The\nboy was insistent.  Tarzan explained that he had wished to purchase\nAkut and return him to his jungle home, and to this the mother\nassented.  Jack asked to be allowed to visit the ape, but again he was\nmet with flat refusal.  He had the address, however, which the trainer\nhad given his father, and two days later he found the opportunity to\nelude his new tutor--who had replaced the terrified Mr. Moore--and\nafter a considerable search through a section of London which he had\nnever before visited, he found the smelly little quarters of the\npock-marked old man.  The old fellow himself replied to his knocking,\nand when he stated that he had come to see Ajax, opened the door and\nadmitted him to the little room which he and the great ape occupied.\nIn former years Paulvitch had been a fastidious scoundrel; but ten\nyears of hideous life among the cannibals of Africa had eradicated the\nlast vestige of niceness from his habits.  His apparel was wrinkled and\nsoiled.  His hands were unwashed, his few straggling locks uncombed.\nHis room was a jumble of filthy disorder.  As the boy entered he saw\nthe great ape squatting upon the bed, the coverlets of which were a\ntangled wad of filthy blankets and ill-smelling quilts.  At sight of\nthe youth the ape leaped to the floor and shuffled forward.  The man,\nnot recognizing his visitor and fearing that the ape meant mischief,\nstepped between them, ordering the ape back to the bed.\n\n\"He will not hurt me,\" cried the boy.  \"We are friends, and before, he\nwas my father's friend.  They knew one another in the jungle.  My\nfather is Lord Greystoke.  He does not know that I have come here.  My\nmother forbid my coming; but I wished to see Ajax, and I will pay you\nif you will let me come here often and see him.\"\n\nAt the mention of the boy's identity Paulvitch's eyes narrowed.  Since\nhe had first seen Tarzan again from the wings of the theater there had\nbeen forming in his deadened brain the beginnings of a desire for\nrevenge.  It is a characteristic of the weak and criminal to attribute\nto others the misfortunes that are the result of their own wickedness,\nand so now it was that Alexis Paulvitch was slowly recalling the events\nof his past life and as he did so laying at the door of the man whom he\nand Rokoff had so assiduously attempted to ruin and murder all the\nmisfortunes that had befallen him in the failure of their various\nschemes against their intended victim.\n\nHe saw at first no way in which he could, with safety to himself, wreak\nvengeance upon Tarzan through the medium of Tarzan's son; but that\ngreat possibilities for revenge lay in the boy was apparent to him, and\nso he determined to cultivate the lad in the hope that fate would play\ninto his hands in some way in the future.  He told the boy all that he\nknew of his father's past life in the jungle and when he found that the\nboy had been kept in ignorance of all these things for so many years,\nand that he had been forbidden visiting the zoological gardens; that he\nhad had to bind and gag his tutor to find an opportunity to come to the\nmusic hall and see Ajax, he guessed immediately the nature of the great\nfear that lay in the hearts of the boy's parents--that he might crave\nthe jungle as his father had craved it.\n\nAnd so Paulvitch encouraged the boy to come and see him often, and\nalways he played upon the lad's craving for tales of the savage world\nwith which Paulvitch was all too familiar.  He left him alone with Akut\nmuch, and it was not long until he was surprised to learn that the boy\ncould make the great beast understand him--that he had actually learned\nmany of the words of the primitive language of the anthropoids.\n\nDuring this period Tarzan came several times to visit Paulvitch.  He\nseemed anxious to purchase Ajax, and at last he told the man frankly\nthat he was prompted not only by a desire upon his part to return the\nbeast to the liberty of his native jungle; but also because his wife\nfeared that in some way her son might learn the whereabouts of the ape\nand through his attachment for the beast become imbued with the roving\ninstinct which, as Tarzan explained to Paulvitch, had so influenced his\nown life.\n\nThe Russian could scarce repress a smile as he listened to Lord\nGreystoke's words, since scarce a half hour had passed since the time\nthe future Lord Greystoke had been sitting upon the disordered bed\njabbering away to Ajax with all the fluency of a born ape.\n\nIt was during this interview that a plan occurred to Paulvitch, and as\na result of it he agreed to accept a certain fabulous sum for the ape,\nand upon receipt of the money to deliver the beast to a vessel that was\nsailing south from Dover for Africa two days later.  He had a double\npurpose in accepting Clayton's offer.  Primarily, the money\nconsideration influenced him strongly, as the ape was no longer a\nsource of revenue to him, having consistently refused to perform upon\nthe stage after having discovered Tarzan.  It was as though the beast\nhad suffered himself to be brought from his jungle home and exhibited\nbefore thousands of curious spectators for the sole purpose of\nsearching out his long lost friend and master, and, having found him,\nconsidered further mingling with the common herd of humans unnecessary.\nHowever that may be, the fact remained that no amount of persuasion\ncould influence him even to show himself upon the music hall stage, and\nupon the single occasion that the trainer attempted force the results\nwere such that the unfortunate man considered himself lucky to have\nescaped with his life.  All that saved him was the accidental presence\nof Jack Clayton, who had been permitted to visit the animal in the\ndressing room reserved for him at the music hall, and had immediately\ninterfered when he saw that the savage beast meant serious mischief.\n\nAnd after the money consideration, strong in the heart of the Russian\nwas the desire for revenge, which had been growing with constant\nbrooding over the failures and miseries of his life, which he\nattributed to Tarzan; the latest, and by no means the least, of which\nwas Ajax's refusal to longer earn money for him.  The ape's refusal he\ntraced directly to Tarzan, finally convincing himself that the ape man\nhad instructed the great anthropoid to refuse to go upon the stage.\n\nPaulvitch's naturally malign disposition was aggravated by the\nweakening and warping of his mental and physical faculties through\ntorture and privation.  From cold, calculating, highly intelligent\nperversity it had deteriorated into the indiscriminating, dangerous\nmenace of the mentally defective.  His plan, however, was sufficiently\ncunning to at least cast a doubt upon the assertion that his mentality\nwas wandering.  It assured him first of the competence which Lord\nGreystoke had promised to pay him for the deportation of the ape, and\nthen of revenge upon his benefactor through the son he idolized.  That\npart of his scheme was crude and brutal--it lacked the refinement of\ntorture that had marked the master strokes of the Paulvitch of old,\nwhen he had worked with that virtuoso of villainy, Nikolas Rokoff--but\nit at least assured Paulvitch of immunity from responsibility, placing\nthat upon the ape, who would thus also be punished for his refusal\nlonger to support the Russian.\n\nEverything played with fiendish unanimity into Paulvitch's hands.  As\nchance would have it, Tarzan's son overheard his father relating to the\nboy's mother the steps he was taking to return Akut safely to his\njungle home, and having overheard he begged them to bring the ape home\nthat he might have him for a play-fellow.  Tarzan would not have been\naverse to this plan; but Lady Greystoke was horrified at the very\nthought of it.  Jack pleaded with his mother; but all unavailingly.\nShe was obdurate, and at last the lad appeared to acquiesce in his\nmother's decision that the ape must be returned to Africa and the boy\nto school, from which he had been absent on vacation.\n\nHe did not attempt to visit Paulvitch's room again that day, but\ninstead busied himself in other ways.  He had always been well supplied\nwith money, so that when necessity demanded he had no difficulty in\ncollecting several hundred pounds.  Some of this money he invested in\nvarious strange purchases which he managed to smuggle into the house,\nundetected, when he returned late in the afternoon.\n\nThe next morning, after giving his father time to precede him and\nconclude his business with Paulvitch, the lad hastened to the Russian's\nroom.  Knowing nothing of the man's true character the boy dared not\ntake him fully into his confidence for fear that the old fellow would\nnot only refuse to aid him, but would report the whole affair to his\nfather.  Instead, he simply asked permission to take Ajax to Dover.  He\nexplained that it would relieve the old man of a tiresome journey, as\nwell as placing a number of pounds in his pocket, for the lad purposed\npaying the Russian well.\n\n\"You see,\" he went on, \"there will be no danger of detection since I am\nsupposed to be leaving on an afternoon train for school.  Instead I\nwill come here after they have left me on board the train.  Then I can\ntake Ajax to Dover, you see, and arrive at school only a day late.  No\none will be the wiser, no harm will be done, and I shall have had an\nextra day with Ajax before I lose him forever.\"\n\nThe plan fitted perfectly with that which Paulvitch had in mind.  Had\nhe known what further the boy contemplated he would doubtless have\nentirely abandoned his own scheme of revenge and aided the boy whole\nheartedly in the consummation of the lad's, which would have been\nbetter for Paulvitch, could he have but read the future but a few short\nhours ahead.\n\nThat afternoon Lord and Lady Greystoke bid their son good-bye and saw\nhim safely settled in a first-class compartment of the railway carriage\nthat would set him down at school in a few hours.  No sooner had they\nleft him, however, than he gathered his bags together, descended from\nthe compartment and sought a cab stand outside the station.  Here he\nengaged a cabby to take him to the Russian's address.  It was dusk when\nhe arrived.  He found Paulvitch awaiting him.  The man was pacing the\nfloor nervously.  The ape was tied with a stout cord to the bed.  It\nwas the first time that Jack had ever seen Ajax thus secured.  He\nlooked questioningly at Paulvitch.  The man, mumbling, explained that\nhe believed the animal had guessed that he was to be sent away and he\nfeared he would attempt to escape.\n\nPaulvitch carried another piece of cord in his hand.  There was a noose\nin one end of it which he was continually playing with.  He walked back\nand forth, up and down the room.  His pock-marked features were working\nhorribly as he talked silent to himself.  The boy had never seen him\nthus--it made him uneasy.  At last Paulvitch stopped on the opposite\nside of the room, far from the ape.\n\n\"Come here,\" he said to the lad.  \"I will show you how to secure the\nape should he show signs of rebellion during the trip.\"\n\nThe lad laughed.  \"It will not be necessary,\" he replied.  \"Ajax will\ndo whatever I tell him to do.\"\n\nThe old man stamped his foot angrily.  \"Come here, as I tell you,\" he\nrepeated.  \"If you do not do as I say you shall not accompany the ape\nto Dover--I will take no chances upon his escaping.\"\n\nStill smiling, the lad crossed the room and stood before the Russ.\n\n\"Turn around, with your back toward me,\" directed the latter, \"that I\nmay show you how to bind him quickly.\"\n\nThe boy did as he was bid, placing his hands behind him when Paulvitch\ntold him to do so.  Instantly the old man slipped the running noose\nover one of the lad's wrists, took a couple of half hitches about his\nother wrist, and knotted the cord.\n\nThe moment that the boy was secured the attitude of the man changed.\nWith an angry oath he wheeled his prisoner about, tripped him and\nhurled him violently to the floor, leaping upon his breast as he fell.\nFrom the bed the ape growled and struggled with his bonds.  The boy did\nnot cry out--a trait inherited from his savage sire whom long years in\nthe jungle following the death of his foster mother, Kala the great\nape, had taught that there was none to come to the succor of the fallen.\n\nPaulvitch's fingers sought the lad's throat.  He grinned down horribly\ninto the face of his victim.\n\n\"Your father ruined me,\" he mumbled.  \"This will pay him. He will think\nthat the ape did it.  I will tell him that the ape did it.  That I left\nhim alone for a few minutes, and that you sneaked in and the ape killed\nyou.  I will throw your body upon the bed after I have choked the life\nfrom you, and when I bring your father he will see the ape squatting\nover it,\" and the twisted fiend cackled in gloating laughter.  His\nfingers closed upon the boy's throat.\n\nBehind them the growling of the maddened beast reverberated against the\nwalls of the little room.  The boy paled, but no other sign of fear or\npanic showed upon his countenance.  He was the son of Tarzan.  The\nfingers tightened their grip upon his throat.  It was with difficulty\nthat he breathed, gaspingly.  The ape lunged against the stout cord\nthat held him.  Turning, he wrapped the cord about his hands, as a man\nmight have done, and surged heavily backward.  The great muscles stood\nout beneath his shaggy hide.  There was a rending as of splintered\nwood--the cord held, but a portion of the footboard of the bed came\naway.\n\nAt the sound Paulvitch looked up.  His hideous face went white with\nterror--the ape was free.\n\nWith a single bound the creature was upon him.  The man shrieked.  The\nbrute wrenched him from the body of the boy.  Great fingers sunk into\nthe man's flesh.  Yellow fangs gaped close to his throat--he struggled,\nfutilely--and when they closed, the soul of Alexis Paulvitch passed\ninto the keeping of the demons who had long been awaiting it.\n\nThe boy struggled to his feet, assisted by Akut.  For two hours under\nthe instructions of the former the ape worked upon the knots that\nsecured his friend's wrists.  Finally they gave up their secret, and\nthe boy was free.  Then he opened one of his bags and drew forth some\ngarments.  His plans had been well made.  He did not consult the beast,\nwhich did all that he directed.  Together they slunk from the house,\nbut no casual observer might have noted that one of them was an ape.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 4\n\n\nThe killing of the friendless old Russian, Michael Sabrov, by his great\ntrained ape, was a matter for newspaper comment for a few days.  Lord\nGreystoke read of it, and while taking special precautions not to\npermit his name to become connected with the affair, kept himself well\nposted as to the police search for the anthropoid.\n\nAs was true of the general public, his chief interest in the matter\ncentered about the mysterious disappearance of the slayer.  Or at least\nthis was true until he learned, several days subsequent to the tragedy,\nthat his son Jack had not reported at the public school en route for\nwhich they had seen him safely ensconced in a railway carriage.  Even\nthen the father did not connect the disappearance of his son with the\nmystery surrounding the whereabouts of the ape.  Nor was it until a\nmonth later that careful investigation revealed the fact that the boy\nhad left the train before it pulled out of the station at London, and\nthe cab driver had been found who had driven him to the address of the\nold Russian, that Tarzan of the Apes realized that Akut had in some way\nbeen connected with the disappearance of the boy.\n\nBeyond the moment that the cab driver had deposited his fare beside the\ncurb in front of the house in which the Russian had been quartered\nthere was no clue.  No one had seen either the boy or the ape from that\ninstant--at least no one who still lived.  The proprietor of the house\nidentified the picture of the lad as that of one who had been a\nfrequent visitor in the room of the old man.  Aside from this he knew\nnothing.  And there, at the door of a grimy, old building in the slums\nof London, the searchers came to a blank wall--baffled.\n\nThe day following the death of Alexis Paulvitch a youth accompanying\nhis invalid grandmother, boarded a steamer at Dover.  The old lady was\nheavily veiled, and so weakened by age and sickness that she had to be\nwheeled aboard the vessel in an invalid chair.\n\nThe boy would permit none but himself to wheel her, and with his own\nhands assisted her from the chair to the interior of their\nstateroom--and that was the last that was seen of the old lady by the\nship's company until the pair disembarked.  The boy even insisted upon\ndoing the work of their cabin steward, since, as he explained, his\ngrandmother was suffering from a nervous disposition that made the\npresence of strangers extremely distasteful to her.\n\nOutside the cabin--and none there was aboard who knew what he did in\nthe cabin--the lad was just as any other healthy, normal English boy\nmight have been.  He mingled with his fellow passengers, became a prime\nfavorite with the officers, and struck up numerous friendships among\nthe common sailors.  He was generous and unaffected, yet carried an air\nof dignity and strength of character that inspired his many new friends\nwith admiration as well as affection for him.\n\nAmong the passengers there was an American named Condon, a noted\nblackleg and crook who was \"wanted\" in a half dozen of the larger\ncities of the United States.  He had paid little attention to the boy\nuntil on one occasion he had seen him accidentally display a roll of\nbank notes.  From then on Condon cultivated the youthful Briton.  He\nlearned, easily, that the boy was traveling alone with his invalid\ngrandmother, and that their destination was a small port on the west\ncoast of Africa, a little below the equator; that their name was\nBillings, and that they had no friends in the little settlement for\nwhich they were bound.  Upon the point of their purpose in visiting the\nplace Condon found the boy reticent, and so he did not push the\nmatter--he had learned all that he cared to know as it was.\n\nSeveral times Condon attempted to draw the lad into a card game; but\nhis victim was not interested, and the black looks of several of the\nother men passengers decided the American to find other means of\ntransferring the boy's bank roll to his own pocket.\n\nAt last came the day that the steamer dropped anchor in the lee of a\nwooded promontory where a score or more of sheet-iron shacks making an\nunsightly blot upon the fair face of nature proclaimed the fact that\ncivilization had set its heel.  Straggling upon the outskirts were the\nthatched huts of natives, picturesque in their primeval savagery,\nharmonizing with the background of tropical jungle and accentuating the\nsqualid hideousness of the white man's pioneer architecture.\n\nThe boy, leaning over the rail, was looking far beyond the man-made\ntown deep into the God-made jungle.  A little shiver of anticipation\ntingled his spine, and then, quite without volition, he found himself\ngazing into the loving eyes of his mother and the strong face of the\nfather which mirrored, beneath its masculine strength, a love no less\nthan the mother's eyes proclaimed.  He felt himself weakening in his\nresolve.  Nearby one of the ship's officers was shouting orders to a\nflotilla of native boats that was approaching to lighter the\nconsignment of the steamer's cargo destined for this tiny post.\n\n\"When does the next steamer for England touch here?\" the boy asked.\n\n\"The Emanuel ought to be along most any time now,\" replied the officer.\n\"I figgered we'd find her here,\" and he went on with his bellowing\nremarks to the dusty horde drawing close to the steamer's side.\n\nThe task of lowering the boy's grandmother over the side to a waiting\ncanoe was rather difficult.  The lad insisted on being always at her\nside, and when at last she was safely ensconced in the bottom of the\ncraft that was to bear them shoreward her grandson dropped catlike\nafter her.  So interested was he in seeing her comfortably disposed\nthat he failed to notice the little package that had worked from his\npocket as he assisted in lowering the sling that contained the old\nwoman over the steamer's side, nor did he notice it even as it slipped\nout entirely and dropped into the sea.\n\nScarcely had the boat containing the boy and the old woman started for\nthe shore than Condon hailed a canoe upon the other side of the ship,\nand after bargaining with its owner finally lowered his baggage and\nhimself aboard.  Once ashore he kept out of sight of the two-story\natrocity that bore the legend \"Hotel\" to lure unsuspecting wayfarers to\nits multitudinous discomforts.  It was quite dark before he ventured to\nenter and arrange for accommodations.\n\nIn a back room upon the second floor the lad was explaining, not\nwithout considerable difficulty, to his grandmother that he had decided\nto return to England upon the next steamer.  He was endeavoring to make\nit plain to the old lady that she might remain in Africa if she wished\nbut that for his part his conscience demanded that he return to his\nfather and mother, who doubtless were even now suffering untold sorrow\nbecause of his absence; from which it may be assumed that his parents\nhad not been acquainted with the plans that he and the old lady had\nmade for their adventure into African wilds.\n\nHaving come to a decision the lad felt a sense of relief from the worry\nthat had haunted him for many sleepless nights.  When he closed his\neyes in sleep it was to dream of a happy reunion with those at home.\nAnd as he dreamed, Fate, cruel and inexorable, crept stealthily upon\nhim through the dark corridor of the squalid building in which he\nslept--Fate in the form of the American crook, Condon.\n\nCautiously the man approached the door of the lad's room.  There he\ncrouched listening until assured by the regular breathing of those\nwithin that both slept.  Quietly he inserted a slim, skeleton key in\nthe lock of the door.  With deft fingers, long accustomed to the silent\nmanipulation of the bars and bolts that guarded other men's property,\nCondon turned the key and the knob simultaneously.  Gentle pressure\nupon the door swung it slowly inward upon its hinges.  The man entered\nthe room, closing the door behind him.  The moon was temporarily\novercast by heavy clouds.  The interior of the apartment was shrouded\nin gloom.  Condon groped his way toward the bed.  In the far corner of\nthe room something moved--moved with a silent stealthiness which\ntranscended even the trained silence of the burglar.  Condon heard\nnothing.  His attention was riveted upon the bed in which he thought to\nfind a young boy and his helpless, invalid grandmother.\n\nThe American sought only the bank roll.  If he could possess himself of\nthis without detection, well and good; but were he to meet resistance\nhe was prepared for that too.  The lad's clothes lay across a chair\nbeside the bed.  The American's fingers felt swiftly through them--the\npockets contained no roll of crisp, new notes.  Doubtless they were\nbeneath the pillows of the bed.  He stepped closer toward the sleeper;\nhis hand was already half way beneath the pillow when the thick cloud\nthat had obscured the moon rolled aside and the room was flooded with\nlight.  At the same instant the boy opened his eyes and looked straight\ninto those of Condon.  The man was suddenly conscious that the boy was\nalone in the bed.  Then he clutched for his victim's throat.  As the\nlad rose to meet him Condon heard a low growl at his back, then he felt\nhis wrists seized by the boy, and realized that beneath those tapering,\nwhite fingers played muscles of steel.\n\nHe felt other hands at his throat, rough hairy hands that reached over\nhis shoulders from behind.  He cast a terrified glance backward, and\nthe hairs of his head stiffened at the sight his eyes revealed, for\ngrasping him from the rear was a huge, man-like ape.  The bared\nfighting fangs of the anthropoid were close to his throat.  The lad\npinioned his wrists.  Neither uttered a sound.  Where was the\ngrandmother?  Condon's eyes swept the room in a single all-inclusive\nglance.  His eyes bulged in horror at the realization of the truth\nwhich that glance revealed.  In the power of what creatures of hideous\nmystery had he placed himself!  Frantically he fought to beat off the\nlad that he might turn upon the fearsome thing at his back.  Freeing\none hand he struck a savage blow at the lad's face.  His act seemed to\nunloose a thousand devils in the hairy creature clinging to his throat.\nCondon heard a low and savage snarl.  It was the last thing that the\nAmerican ever heard in this life.  Then he was dragged backward upon\nthe floor, a heavy body fell upon him, powerful teeth fastened\nthemselves in his jugular, his head whirled in the sudden blackness\nwhich rims eternity--a moment later the ape rose from his prostrate\nform; but Condon did not know--he was quite dead.\n\nThe lad, horrified, sprang from the bed to lean over the body of the\nman.  He knew that Akut had killed in his defense, as he had killed\nMichael Sabrov; but here, in savage Africa, far from home and friends\nwhat would they do to him and his faithful ape?  The lad knew that the\npenalty of murder was death.  He even knew that an accomplice might\nsuffer the death penalty with the principal.  Who was there who would\nplead for them?  All would be against them.  It was little more than a\nhalf-civilized community, and the chances were that they would drag\nAkut and him forth in the morning and hang them both to the nearest\ntree--he had read of such things being done in America, and Africa was\nworse even and wilder than the great West of his mother's native land.\nYes, they would both be hanged in the morning!\n\nWas there no escape?  He thought in silence for a few moments, and\nthen, with an exclamation of relief, he struck his palms together and\nturned toward his clothing upon the chair.  Money would do anything!\nMoney would save him and Akut!  He felt for the bank roll in the pocket\nin which he had been accustomed to carry it.  It was not there!  Slowly\nat first and at last frantically he searched through the remaining\npockets of his clothing.  Then he dropped upon his hands and knees and\nexamined the floor.  Lighting the lamp he moved the bed to one side\nand, inch by inch, he felt over the entire floor.  Beside the body of\nCondon he hesitated, but at last he nerved himself to touch it.\nRolling it over he sought beneath it for the money.  Nor was it there.\nHe guessed that Condon had entered their room to rob; but he did not\nbelieve that the man had had time to possess himself of the money;\nhowever, as it was nowhere else, it must be upon the body of the dead\nman.  Again and again he went over the room, only to return each time\nto the corpse; but no where could he find the money.\n\nHe was half-frantic with despair.  What were they to do?  In the\nmorning they would be discovered and killed.  For all his inherited\nsize and strength he was, after all, only a little boy--a frightened,\nhomesick little boy--reasoning faultily from the meager experience of\nchildhood.  He could think of but a single glaring fact--they had\nkilled a fellow man, and they were among savage strangers, thirsting\nfor the blood of the first victim whom fate cast into their clutches.\nThis much he had gleaned from penny-dreadfuls.\n\nAnd they must have money!\n\nAgain he approached the corpse.  This time resolutely.  The ape\nsquatted in a corner watching his young companion.  The youth commenced\nto remove the American's clothing piece by piece, and, piece by piece,\nhe examined each garment minutely.  Even to the shoes he searched with\npainstaking care, and when the last article had been removed and\nscrutinized he dropped back upon the bed with dilated eyes that saw\nnothing in the present--only a grim tableau of the future in which two\nforms swung silently from the limb of a great tree.\n\nHow long he sat thus he did not know; but finally he was aroused by a\nnoise coming from the floor below.  Springing quickly to his feet he\nblew out the lamp, and crossing the floor silently locked the door.\nThen he turned toward the ape, his mind made up.\n\nLast evening he had been determined to start for home at the first\nopportunity, to beg the forgiveness of his parents for this mad\nadventure.  Now he knew that he might never return to them.  The blood\nof a fellow man was upon his hands--in his morbid reflections he had\nlong since ceased to attribute the death of Condon to the ape.  The\nhysteria of panic had fastened the guilt upon himself.  With money he\nmight have bought justice; but penniless!--ah, what hope could there be\nfor strangers without money here?\n\nBut what had become of the money?  He tried to recall when last he had\nseen it.  He could not, nor, could he, would he have been able to\naccount for its disappearance, for he had been entirely unconscious of\nthe falling of the little package from his pocket into the sea as he\nclambered over the ship's side into the waiting canoe that bore him to\nshore.\n\nNow he turned toward Akut.  \"Come!\" he said, in the language of the\ngreat apes.\n\nForgetful of the fact that he wore only a thin pajama suit he led the\nway to the open window.  Thrusting his head out he listened\nattentively.  A single tree grew a few feet from the window.  Nimbly\nthe lad sprang to its bole, clinging cat-like for an instant before he\nclambered quietly to the ground below.  Close behind him came the great\nape.  Two hundred yards away a spur of the jungle ran close to the\nstraggling town.  Toward this the lad led the way.  None saw them, and\na moment later the jungle swallowed them, and John Clayton, future Lord\nGreystoke, passed from the eyes and the knowledge of men.\n\nIt was late the following morning that a native houseman knocked upon\nthe door of the room that had been assigned to Mrs. Billings and her\ngrandson.  Receiving no response he inserted his pass key in the lock,\nonly to discover that another key was already there, but from the\ninside.  He reported the fact to Herr Skopf, the proprietor, who at\nonce made his way to the second floor where he, too, pounded vigorously\nupon the door.  Receiving no reply he bent to the key hole in an\nattempt to look through into the room beyond.  In so doing, being\nportly, he lost his balance, which necessitated putting a palm to the\nfloor to maintain his equilibrium.  As he did so he felt something soft\nand thick and wet beneath his fingers.  He raised his open palm before\nhis eyes in the dim light of the corridor and peered at it.  Then he\ngave a little shudder, for even in the semi-darkness he saw a dark red\nstain upon his hand.  Leaping to his feet he hurled his shoulder\nagainst the door.  Herr Skopf is a heavy man--or at least he was\nthen--I have not seen him for several years.  The frail door collapsed\nbeneath his weight, and Herr Skopf stumbled precipitately into the room\nbeyond.\n\nBefore him lay the greatest mystery of his life.  Upon the floor at his\nfeet was the dead body of a strange man.  The neck was broken and the\njugular severed as by the fangs of a wild beast.  The body was entirely\nnaked, the clothing being strewn about the corpse.  The old lady and\nher grandson were gone.  The window was open.  They must have\ndisappeared through the window for the door had been locked from the\ninside.\n\nBut how could the boy have carried his invalid grandmother from a\nsecond story window to the ground?  It was preposterous.  Again Herr\nSkopf searched the small room.  He noticed that the bed was pulled well\naway from the wall--why?  He looked beneath it again for the third or\nfourth time.  The two were gone, and yet his judgment told him that the\nold lady could not have gone without porters to carry her down as they\nhad carried her up the previous day.\n\nFurther search deepened the mystery.  All the clothing of the two was\nstill in the room--if they had gone then they must have gone naked or\nin their night clothes.  Herr Skopf shook his head; then he scratched\nit.  He was baffled.  He had never heard of Sherlock Holmes or he would\nhave lost no time in invoking the aid of that celebrated sleuth, for\nhere was a real mystery:  An old woman--an invalid who had to be\ncarried from the ship to her room in the hotel--and a handsome lad, her\ngrandson, had entered a room on the second floor of his hostelry the\nday before.  They had had their evening meal served in their room--that\nwas the last that had been seen of them.  At nine the following morning\nthe corpse of a strange man had been the sole occupant of that room.\nNo boat had left the harbor in the meantime--there was not a railroad\nwithin hundreds of miles--there was no other white settlement that the\ntwo could reach under several days of arduous marching accompanied by a\nwell-equipped safari.  They had simply vanished into thin air, for the\nnative he had sent to inspect the ground beneath the open window had\njust returned to report that there was no sign of a footstep there, and\nwhat sort of creatures were they who could have dropped that distance\nto the soft turf without leaving spoor?  Herr Skopf shuddered.  Yes, it\nwas a great mystery--there was something uncanny about the whole\nthing--he hated to think about it, and he dreaded the coming of night.\n\nIt was a great mystery to Herr Skopf--and, doubtless, still is.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 5\n\n\nCaptain Armand Jacot of the Foreign Legion sat upon an outspread saddle\nblanket at the foot of a stunted palm tree.  His broad shoulders and\nhis close-cropped head rested in luxurious ease against the rough bole\nof the palm.  His long legs were stretched straight before him\noverlapping the meager blanket, his spurs buried in the sandy soil of\nthe little desert oasis.  The captain was taking his ease after a long\nday of weary riding across the shifting sands of the desert.\n\nLazily he puffed upon his cigarette and watched his orderly who was\npreparing his evening meal.  Captain Armand Jacot was well satisfied\nwith himself and the world.  A little to his right rose the noisy\nactivity of his troop of sun-tanned veterans, released for the time\nfrom the irksome trammels of discipline, relaxing tired muscles,\nlaughing, joking, and smoking as they, too, prepared to eat after a\ntwelve-hour fast.  Among them, silent and taciturn, squatted five\nwhite-robed Arabs, securely bound and under heavy guard.\n\nIt was the sight of these that filled Captain Armand Jacot with the\npleasurable satisfaction of a duty well-performed.  For a long, hot,\ngaunt month he and his little troop had scoured the places of the\ndesert waste in search of a band of marauders to the sin-stained\naccount of which were charged innumerable thefts of camels, horses, and\ngoats, as well as murders enough to have sent the whole unsavory gang\nto the guillotine several times over.\n\nA week before, he had come upon them.  In the ensuing battle he had\nlost two of his own men, but the punishment inflicted upon the\nmarauders had been severe almost to extinction.  A half dozen, perhaps,\nhad escaped; but the balance, with the exception of the five prisoners,\nhad expiated their crimes before the nickel jacketed bullets of the\nlegionaries.  And, best of all, the ring leader, Achmet ben Houdin, was\namong the prisoners.\n\nFrom the prisoners Captain Jacot permitted his mind to traverse the\nremaining miles of sand to the little garrison post where, upon the\nmorrow, he should find awaiting him with eager welcome his wife and\nlittle daughter.  His eyes softened to the memory of them, as they\nalways did.  Even now he could see the beauty of the mother reflected\nin the childish lines of little Jeanne's face, and both those faces\nwould be smiling up into his as he swung from his tired mount late the\nfollowing afternoon.  Already he could feel a soft cheek pressed close\nto each of his--velvet against leather.\n\nHis reverie was broken in upon by the voice of a sentry summoning a\nnon-commissioned officer.  Captain Jacot raised his eyes.  The sun had\nnot yet set; but the shadows of the few trees huddled about the water\nhole and of his men and their horses stretched far away into the east\nacross the now golden sand.  The sentry was pointing in this direction,\nand the corporal, through narrowed lids, was searching the distance.\nCaptain Jacot rose to his feet.  He was not a man content to see\nthrough the eyes of others.  He must see for himself.  Usually he saw\nthings long before others were aware that there was anything to see--a\ntrait that had won for him the sobriquet of Hawk.  Now he saw, just\nbeyond the long shadows, a dozen specks rising and falling among the\nsands.  They disappeared and reappeared, but always they grew larger.\nJacot recognized them immediately.  They were horsemen--horsemen of the\ndesert.  Already a sergeant was running toward him.  The entire camp\nwas straining its eyes into the distance.  Jacot gave a few terse\norders to the sergeant who saluted, turned upon his heel and returned\nto the men.  Here he gathered a dozen who saddled their horses, mounted\nand rode out to meet the strangers.  The remaining men disposed\nthemselves in readiness for instant action.  It was not entirely beyond\nthe range of possibilities that the horsemen riding thus swiftly toward\nthe camp might be friends of the prisoners bent upon the release of\ntheir kinsmen by a sudden attack.  Jacot doubted this, however, since\nthe strangers were evidently making no attempt to conceal their\npresence.  They were galloping rapidly toward the camp in plain view of\nall.  There might be treachery lurking beneath their fair appearance;\nbut none who knew The Hawk would be so gullible as to hope to trap him\nthus.\n\nThe sergeant with his detail met the Arabs two hundred yards from the\ncamp.  Jacot could see him in conversation with a tall, white-robed\nfigure--evidently the leader of the band.  Presently the sergeant and\nthis Arab rode side by side toward camp.  Jacot awaited them.  The two\nreined in and dismounted before him.\n\n\"Sheik Amor ben Khatour,\" announced the sergeant by way of introduction.\n\nCaptain Jacot eyed the newcomer.  He was acquainted with nearly every\nprincipal Arab within a radius of several hundred miles.  This man he\nnever had seen.  He was a tall, weather beaten, sour looking man of\nsixty or more.  His eyes were narrow and evil.  Captain Jacot did not\nrelish his appearance.\n\n\"Well?\" he asked, tentatively.\n\nThe Arab came directly to the point.\n\n\"Achmet ben Houdin is my sister's son,\" he said.  \"If you will give him\ninto my keeping I will see that he sins no more against the laws of the\nFrench.\"\n\nJacot shook his head.  \"That cannot be,\" he replied.  \"I must take him\nback with me.  He will be properly and fairly tried by a civil court.\nIf he is innocent he will be released.\"\n\n\"And if he is not innocent?\" asked the Arab.\n\n\"He is charged with many murders.  For any one of these, if he is\nproved guilty, he will have to die.\"\n\nThe Arab's left hand was hidden beneath his burnous.  Now he withdrew\nit disclosing a large goatskin purse, bulging and heavy with coins.  He\nopened the mouth of the purse and let a handful of the contents trickle\ninto the palm of his right hand--all were pieces of good French gold.\nFrom the size of the purse and its bulging proportions Captain Jacot\nconcluded that it must contain a small fortune.  Sheik Amor ben Khatour\ndropped the spilled gold pieces one by one back into the purse.  Jacot\nwas eyeing him narrowly.  They were alone.  The sergeant, having\nintroduced the visitor, had withdrawn to some little distance--his back\nwas toward them.  Now the sheik, having returned all the gold pieces,\nheld the bulging purse outward upon his open palm toward Captain Jacot.\n\n\"Achmet ben Houdin, my sister's son, MIGHT escape tonight,\" he said.\n\"Eh?\"\n\nCaptain Armand Jacot flushed to the roots of his close-cropped hair.\nThen he went very white and took a half-step toward the Arab.  His\nfists were clenched.  Suddenly he thought better of whatever impulse\nwas moving him.\n\n\"Sergeant!\" he called.  The non-commissioned officer hurried toward\nhim, saluting as his heels clicked together before his superior.\n\n\"Take this black dog back to his people,\" he ordered.  \"See that they\nleave at once.  Shoot the first man who comes within range of camp\ntonight.\"\n\nSheik Amor ben Khatour drew himself up to his full height.  His evil\neyes narrowed.  He raised the bag of gold level with the eyes of the\nFrench officer.\n\n\"You will pay more than this for the life of Achmet ben Houdin, my\nsister's son,\" he said.  \"And as much again for the name that you have\ncalled me and a hundred fold in sorrow in the bargain.\"\n\n\"Get out of here!\" growled Captain Armand Jacot, \"before I kick you\nout.\"\n\nAll of this happened some three years before the opening of this tale.\nThe trail of Achmet ben Houdin and his accomplices is a matter of\nrecord--you may verify it if you care to.  He met the death he\ndeserved, and he met it with the stoicism of the Arab.\n\nA month later little Jeanne Jacot, the seven-year-old daughter of\nCaptain Armand Jacot, mysteriously disappeared.  Neither the wealth of\nher father and mother, or all the powerful resources of the great\nrepublic were able to wrest the secret of her whereabouts from the\ninscrutable desert that had swallowed her and her abductor.\n\nA reward of such enormous proportions was offered that many adventurers\nwere attracted to the hunt.  This was no case for the modern detective\nof civilization, yet several of these threw themselves into the\nsearch--the bones of some are already bleaching beneath the African sun\nupon the silent sands of the Sahara.\n\nTwo Swedes, Carl Jenssen and Sven Malbihn, after three years of\nfollowing false leads at last gave up the search far to the south of\nthe Sahara to turn their attention to the more profitable business of\nivory poaching.  In a great district they were already known for their\nrelentless cruelty and their greed for ivory.  The natives feared and\nhated them.  The European governments in whose possessions they worked\nhad long sought them; but, working their way slowly out of the north\nthey had learned many things in the no-man's-land south of the Sahara\nwhich gave them immunity from capture through easy avenues of escape\nthat were unknown to those who pursued them.  Their raids were sudden\nand swift.  They seized ivory and retreated into the trackless wastes\nof the north before the guardians of the territory they raped could be\nmade aware of their presence.  Relentlessly they slaughtered elephants\nthemselves as well as stealing ivory from the natives.  Their following\nconsisted of a hundred or more renegade Arabs and Negro slaves--a\nfierce, relentless band of cut-throats.  Remember them--Carl Jenssen\nand Sven Malbihn, yellow-bearded, Swedish giants--for you will meet\nthem later.\n\n\nIn the heart of the jungle, hidden away upon the banks of a small\nunexplored tributary of a large river that empties into the Atlantic\nnot so far from the equator, lay a small, heavily palisaded village.\nTwenty palm-thatched, beehive huts sheltered its black population,\nwhile a half-dozen goat skin tents in the center of the clearing housed\nthe score of Arabs who found shelter here while, by trading and\nraiding, they collected the cargoes which their ships of the desert\nbore northward twice each year to the market of Timbuktu.\n\nPlaying before one of the Arab tents was a little girl of ten--a\nblack-haired, black-eyed little girl who, with her nut-brown skin and\ngraceful carriage looked every inch a daughter of the desert.  Her\nlittle fingers were busily engaged in fashioning a skirt of grasses for\na much-disheveled doll which a kindly disposed slave had made for her a\nyear or two before.  The head of the doll was rudely chipped from\nivory, while the body was a rat skin stuffed with grass.  The arms and\nlegs were bits of wood, perforated at one end and sewn to the rat skin\ntorso.  The doll was quite hideous and altogether disreputable and\nsoiled, but Meriem thought it the most beautiful and adorable thing in\nthe whole world, which is not so strange in view of the fact that it\nwas the only object within that world upon which she might bestow her\nconfidence and her love.\n\nEveryone else with whom Meriem came in contact was, almost without\nexception, either indifferent to her or cruel.  There was, for example,\nthe old black hag who looked after her, Mabunu--toothless, filthy and\nill tempered.  She lost no opportunity to cuff the little girl, or even\ninflict minor tortures upon her, such as pinching, or, as she had twice\ndone, searing the tender flesh with hot coals.  And there was The\nSheik, her father.  She feared him more than she did Mabunu.  He often\nscolded her for nothing, quite habitually terminating his tirades by\ncruelly beating her, until her little body was black and blue.\n\nBut when she was alone she was happy, playing with Geeka, or decking\nher hair with wild flowers, or making ropes of grasses.  She was always\nbusy and always singing--when they left her alone.  No amount of\ncruelty appeared sufficient to crush the innate happiness and sweetness\nfrom her full little heart.  Only when The Sheik was near was she quiet\nand subdued.  Him she feared with a fear that was at times almost\nhysterical terror. She feared the gloomy jungle too--the cruel jungle\nthat surrounded the little village with chattering monkeys and\nscreaming birds by day and the roaring and coughing and moaning of the\ncarnivora by night.  Yes, she feared the jungle; but so much more did\nshe fear The Sheik that many times it was in her childish head to run\naway, out into the terrible jungle forever rather than longer to face\nthe ever present terror of her father.\n\nAs she sat there this day before The Sheik's goatskin tent, fashioning\na skirt of grasses for Geeka, The Sheik appeared suddenly approaching.\nInstantly the look of happiness faded from the child's face.  She\nshrunk aside in an attempt to scramble from the path of the\nleathern-faced old Arab; but she was not quick enough.  With a brutal\nkick the man sent her sprawling upon her face, where she lay quite\nstill, tearless but trembling.  Then, with an oath at her, the man\npassed into the tent.  The old, black hag shook with appreciative\nlaughter, disclosing an occasional and lonesome yellow fang.\n\nWhen she was sure The Sheik had gone, the little girl crawled to the\nshady side of the tent, where she lay quite still, hugging Geeka close\nto her breast, her little form racked at long intervals with choking\nsobs.  She dared not cry aloud, since that would have brought The Sheik\nupon her again.  The anguish in her little heart was not alone the\nanguish of physical pain; but that infinitely more pathetic anguish--of\nlove denied a childish heart that yearns for love.\n\nLittle Meriem could scarce recall any other existence than that of the\nstern cruelty of The Sheik and Mabunu.  Dimly, in the back of her\nchildish memory there lurked a blurred recollection of a gentle mother;\nbut Meriem was not sure but that even this was but a dream picture\ninduced by her own desire for the caresses she never received, but\nwhich she lavished upon the much loved Geeka.  Never was such a spoiled\nchild as Geeka.  Its little mother, far from fashioning her own conduct\nafter the example set her by her father and nurse, went to the extreme\nof indulgence.  Geeka was kissed a thousand times a day.  There was\nplay in which Geeka was naughty; but the little mother never punished.\nInstead, she caressed and fondled; her attitude influenced solely by\nher own pathetic desire for love.\n\nNow, as she pressed Geeka close to her, her sobs lessened gradually,\nuntil she was able to control her voice, and pour out her misery into\nthe ivory ear of her only confidante.\n\n\"Geeka loves Meriem,\" she whispered.  \"Why does The Sheik, my father,\nnot love me, too?  Am I so naughty?  I try to be good; but I never know\nwhy he strikes me, so I cannot tell what I have done which displeases\nhim.  Just now he kicked me and hurt me so, Geeka; but I was only\nsitting before the tent making a skirt for you.  That must be wicked,\nor he would not have kicked me for it.  But why is it wicked, Geeka?\nOh dear!  I do not know, I do not know.  I wish, Geeka, that I were\ndead.  Yesterday the hunters brought in the body of El Adrea.  El Adrea\nwas quite dead.  No more will he slink silently upon his unsuspecting\nprey.  No more will his great head and his maned shoulders strike\nterror to the hearts of the grass eaters at the drinking ford by night.\nNo more will his thundering roar shake the ground.  El Adrea is dead.\nThey beat his body terribly when it was brought into the village; but\nEl Adrea did not mind.  He did not feel the blows, for he was dead.\nWhen I am dead, Geeka, neither shall I feel the blows of Mabunu, or the\nkicks of The Sheik, my father.  Then shall I be happy.  Oh, Geeka, how\nI wish that I were dead!\"\n\nIf Geeka contemplated a remonstrance it was cut short by sounds of\naltercation beyond the village gates.  Meriem listened.  With the\ncuriosity of childhood she would have liked to have run down there and\nlearn what it was that caused the men to talk so loudly.  Others of the\nvillage were already trooping in the direction of the noise.  But\nMeriem did not dare.  The Sheik would be there, doubtless, and if he\nsaw her it would be but another opportunity to abuse her, so Meriem lay\nstill and listened.\n\nPresently she heard the crowd moving up the street toward The Sheik's\ntent.  Cautiously she stuck her little head around the edge of the\ntent.  She could not resist the temptation, for the sameness of the\nvillage life was monotonous, and she craved diversion.  What she saw\nwas two strangers--white men.  They were alone, but as they approached\nshe learned from the talk of the natives that surrounded them that they\npossessed a considerable following that was camped outside the village.\nThey were coming to palaver with The Sheik.\n\nThe old Arab met them at the entrance to his tent.  His eyes narrowed\nwickedly when they had appraised the newcomers.  They stopped before\nhim, exchanging greetings.  They had come to trade for ivory they said.\nThe Sheik grunted.  He had no ivory.  Meriem gasped.  She knew that in\na near-by hut the great tusks were piled almost to the roof.  She poked\nher little head further forward to get a better view of the strangers.\nHow white their skins!  How yellow their great beards!\n\nSuddenly one of them turned his eyes in her direction.  She tried to\ndodge back out of sight, for she feared all men; but he saw her.\nMeriem noticed the look of almost shocked surprise that crossed his\nface.  The Sheik saw it too, and guessed the cause of it.\n\n\"I have no ivory,\" he repeated.  \"I do not wish to trade.  Go away.  Go\nnow.\"\n\nHe stepped from his tent and almost pushed the strangers about in the\ndirection of the gates.  They demurred, and then The Sheik threatened.\nIt would have been suicide to have disobeyed, so the two men turned and\nleft the village, making their way immediately to their own camp.\n\nThe Sheik returned to his tent; but he did not enter it.  Instead he\nwalked to the side where little Meriem lay close to the goat skin wall,\nvery frightened.  The Sheik stooped and clutched her by the arm.\nViciously he jerked her to her feet, dragged her to the entrance of the\ntent, and shoved her viciously within.  Following her he again seized\nher, beating her ruthlessly.\n\n\"Stay within!\" he growled.  \"Never let the strangers see thy face.\nNext time you show yourself to strangers I shall kill you!\"\n\nWith a final vicious cuff he knocked the child into a far corner of the\ntent, where she lay stifling her moans, while The Sheik paced to and\nfro muttering to himself.  At the entrance sat Mabunu, muttering and\nchuckling.\n\nIn the camp of the strangers one was speaking rapidly to the other.\n\n\"There is no doubt of it, Malbihn,\" he was saying.  \"Not the slightest;\nbut why the old scoundrel hasn't claimed the reward long since is what\npuzzles me.\"\n\n\"There are some things dearer to an Arab, Jenssen, than money,\"\nreturned the first speaker--\"revenge is one of them.\"\n\n\"Anyhow it will not harm to try the power of gold,\" replied Jenssen.\n\nMalbihn shrugged.\n\n\"Not on The Sheik,\" he said.  \"We might try it on one of his people;\nbut The Sheik will not part with his revenge for gold.  To offer it to\nhim would only confirm his suspicions that we must have awakened when\nwe were talking to him before his tent.  If we got away with our lives,\nthen, we should be fortunate.\"\n\n\"Well, try bribery, then,\" assented Jenssen.\n\nBut bribery failed--grewsomely.  The tool they selected after a stay of\nseveral days in their camp outside the village was a tall, old headman\nof The Sheik's native contingent.  He fell to the lure of the shining\nmetal, for he had lived upon the coast and knew the power of gold.  He\npromised to bring them what they craved, late that night.\n\nImmediately after dark the two white men commenced to make arrangements\nto break camp.  By midnight all was prepared.  The porters lay beside\ntheir loads, ready to swing them aloft at a moment's notice.  The armed\naskaris loitered between the balance of the safari and the Arab\nvillage, ready to form a rear guard for the retreat that was to begin\nthe moment that the head man brought that which the white masters\nawaited.\n\nPresently there came the sound of footsteps along the path from the\nvillage.  Instantly the askaris and the whites were on the alert.  More\nthan a single man was approaching.  Jenssen stepped forward and\nchallenged the newcomers in a low whisper.\n\n\"Who comes?\" he queried.\n\n\"Mbeeda,\" came the reply.\n\nMbeeda was the name of the traitorous head man.  Jenssen was satisfied,\nthough he wondered why Mbeeda had brought others with him.  Presently\nhe understood.  The thing they fetched lay upon a litter borne by two\nmen.  Jenssen cursed beneath his breath.  Could the fool be bringing\nthem a corpse?  They had paid for a living prize!\n\nThe bearers came to a halt before the white men.\n\n\"This has your gold purchased,\" said one of the two.  They set the\nlitter down, turned and vanished into the darkness toward the village.\nMalbihn looked at Jenssen, a crooked smile twisting his lips.  The\nthing upon the litter was covered with a piece of cloth.\n\n\"Well?\" queried the latter.  \"Raise the covering and see what you have\nbought.  Much money shall we realize on a corpse--especially after the\nsix months beneath the burning sun that will be consumed in carrying it\nto its destination!\"\n\n\"The fool should have known that we desired her alive,\" grumbled\nMalbihn, grasping a corner of the cloth and jerking the cover from the\nthing that lay upon the litter.\n\nAt sight of what lay beneath both men stepped back--involuntary oaths\nupon their lips--for there before them lay the dead body of Mbeeda, the\nfaithless head man.\n\nFive minutes later the safari of Jenssen and Malbihn was forcing its\nway rapidly toward the west, nervous askaris guarding the rear from the\nattack they momentarily expected.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 6\n\n\nHis first night in the jungle was one which the son of Tarzan held\nlongest in his memory.  No savage carnivora menaced him.  There was\nnever a sign of hideous barbarian.  Or, if there were, the boy's\ntroubled mind took no cognizance of them.  His conscience was harassed\nby the thought of his mother's suffering.  Self-blame plunged him into\nthe depths of misery.  The killing of the American caused him little or\nno remorse.  The fellow had earned his fate.  Jack's regret on this\nscore was due mainly to the effect which the death of Condon had had\nupon his own plans.  Now he could not return directly to his parents as\nhe had planned.  Fear of the primitive, borderland law, of which he had\nread highly colored, imaginary tales, had thrust him into the jungle a\nfugitive.  He dared not return to the coast at this point--not that he\nwas so greatly influenced through personal fear as from a desire to\nshield his father and mother from further sorrow and from the shame of\nhaving their honored name dragged through the sordid degradation of a\nmurder trial.\n\nWith returning day the boy's spirits rose.  With the rising sun rose\nnew hope within his breast.  He would return to civilization by another\nway.  None would guess that he had been connected with the killing of\nthe stranger in the little out-of-the-way trading post upon a remote\nshore.\n\nCrouched close to the great ape in the crotch of a tree the boy had\nshivered through an almost sleepless night.  His light pajamas had been\nbut little protection from the chill dampness of the jungle, and only\nthat side of him which was pressed against the warm body of his shaggy\ncompanion approximated to comfort.  And so he welcomed the rising sun\nwith its promise of warmth as well as light--the blessed sun, dispeller\nof physical and mental ills.\n\nHe shook Akut into wakefulness.\n\n\"Come,\" he said.  \"I am cold and hungry.  We will search for food, out\nthere in the sunlight,\" and he pointed to an open plain, dotted with\nstunted trees and strewn with jagged rock.\n\nThe boy slid to the ground as he spoke, but the ape first looked\ncarefully about, sniffing the morning air.  Then, satisfied that no\ndanger lurked near, he descended slowly to the ground beside the boy.\n\n\"Numa, and Sabor his mate, feast upon those who descend first and look\nafterward, while those who look first and descend afterward live to\nfeast themselves.\"  Thus the old ape imparted to the son of Tarzan the\nboy's first lesson in jungle lore.  Side by side they set off across\nthe rough plain, for the boy wished first to be warm.  The ape showed\nhim the best places to dig for rodents and worms; but the lad only\ngagged at the thought of devouring the repulsive things.  Some eggs\nthey found, and these he sucked raw, as also he ate roots and tubers\nwhich Akut unearthed.  Beyond the plain and across a low bluff they\ncame upon water--brackish, ill-smelling stuff in a shallow water hole,\nthe sides and bottom of which were trampled by the feet of many beasts.\nA herd of zebra galloped away as they approached.\n\nThe lad was too thirsty by now to cavil at anything even remotely\nresembling water, so he drank his fill while Akut stood with raised\nhead, alert for any danger.  Before the ape drank he cautioned the boy\nto be watchful; but as he drank he raised his head from time to time to\ncast a quick glance toward a clump of bushes a hundred yards away upon\nthe opposite side of the water hole.  When he had done he rose and\nspoke to the boy, in the language that was their common heritage--the\ntongue of the great apes.\n\n\"There is no danger near?\" he asked.\n\n\"None,\" replied the boy.  \"I saw nothing move while you drank.\"\n\n\"Your eyes will help you but little in the jungle,\" said the ape.\n\n\"Here, if you would live, you must depend upon your ears and your nose\nbut most upon your nose.  When we came down to drink I knew that no\ndanger lurked near upon this side of the water hole, for else the\nzebras would have discovered it and fled before we came; but upon the\nother side toward which the wind blows danger might lie concealed.  We\ncould not smell it for its scent is being blown in the other direction,\nand so I bent my ears and eyes down wind where my nose cannot travel.\"\n\n\"And you found--nothing?\" asked the lad, with a laugh.\n\n\"I found Numa crouching in that clump of bushes where the tall grasses\ngrow,\" and Akut pointed.\n\n\"A lion?\" exclaimed the boy.  \"How do you know?  I can see nothing.\"\n\n\"Numa is there, though,\" replied the great ape.  \"First I heard him\nsigh.  To you the sigh of Numa may sound no different from the other\nnoises which the wind makes among the grasses and the trees; but later\nyou must learn to know the sigh of Numa.  Then I watched and at last I\nsaw the tall grasses moving at one point to a force other than the\nforce of the wind.  See, they are spread there upon either side of\nNuma's great body, and as he breathes--you see?  You see the little\nmotion at either side that is not caused by the wind--the motion that\nnone of the other grasses have?\"\n\nThe boy strained his eyes--better eyes than the ordinary boy\ninherits--and at last he gave a little exclamation of discovery.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"I see.  He lies there,\" and he pointed.  \"His head is\ntoward us.  Is he watching us?\"\n\n\"Numa is watching us,\" replied Akut, \"but we are in little danger,\nunless we approach too close, for he is lying upon his kill.  His belly\nis almost full, or we should hear him crunching the bones.  He is\nwatching us in silence merely from curiosity.  Presently he will resume\nhis feeding or he will rise and come down to the water for a drink.  As\nhe neither fears or desires us he will not try to hide his presence\nfrom us; but now is an excellent time to learn to know Numa, for you\nmust learn to know him well if you would live long in the jungle.\nWhere the great apes are many Numa leaves us alone.  Our fangs are long\nand strong, and we can fight; but when we are alone and he is hungry we\nare no match for him.  Come, we will circle him and catch his scent.\nThe sooner you learn to know it the better; but keep close to the\ntrees, as we go around him, for Numa often does that which he is least\nexpected to do.  And keep your ears and your eyes and your nose open.\nRemember always that there may be an enemy behind every bush, in every\ntree and amongst every clump of jungle grass.  While you are avoiding\nNuma do not run into the jaws of Sabor, his mate.  Follow me,\" and Akut\nset off in a wide circle about the water hole and the crouching lion.\n\nThe boy followed close upon his heels, his every sense upon the alert,\nhis nerves keyed to the highest pitch of excitement.  This was life!\nFor the instant he forgot his resolutions of a few minutes past to\nhasten to the coast at some other point than that at which he had\nlanded and make his way immediately back to London.  He thought now\nonly of the savage joy of living, and of pitting one's wits and prowess\nagainst the wiles and might of the savage jungle brood which haunted\nthe broad plains and the gloomy forest aisles of the great, untamed\ncontinent.  He knew no fear.  His father had had none to transmit to\nhim; but honor and conscience he did have and these were to trouble him\nmany times as they battled with his inherent love of freedom for\npossession of his soul.\n\nThey had passed but a short distance to the rear of Numa when the boy\ncaught the unpleasant odor of the carnivore.  His face lighted with a\nsmile.  Something told him that he would have known that scent among a\nmyriad of others even if Akut had not told him that a lion lay near.\nThere was a strange familiarity--a weird familiarity in it that made\nthe short hairs rise at the nape of his neck, and brought his upper lip\ninto an involuntary snarl that bared his fighting fangs.  There was a\nsense of stretching of the skin about his ears, for all the world as\nthough those members were flattening back against his skull in\npreparation for deadly combat.  His skin tingled.  He was aglow with a\npleasurable sensation that he never before had known.  He was, upon the\ninstant, another creature--wary, alert, ready.  Thus did the scent of\nNuma, the lion, transform the boy into a beast.\n\nHe had never seen a lion--his mother had gone to great pains to prevent\nit.  But he had devoured countless pictures of them, and now he was\nravenous to feast his eyes upon the king of beasts in the flesh.  As he\ntrailed Akut he kept an eye cocked over one shoulder, rearward, in the\nhope that Numa might rise from his kill and reveal himself.  Thus it\nhappened that he dropped some little way behind Akut, and the next he\nknew he was recalled suddenly to a contemplation of other matters than\nthe hidden Numa by a shrill scream of warning from the Ape.  Turning\nhis eyes quickly in the direction of his companion, the boy saw that,\nstanding in the path directly before him, which sent tremors of\nexcitement racing along every nerve of his body.  With body\nhalf-merging from a clump of bushes in which she must have lain hidden\nstood a sleek and beautiful lioness.  Her yellow-green eyes were round\nand staring, boring straight into the eyes of the boy.  Not ten paces\nseparated them.  Twenty paces behind the lioness stood the great ape,\nbellowing instructions to the boy and hurling taunts at the lioness in\nan evident effort to attract her attention from the lad while he gained\nthe shelter of a near-by tree.\n\nBut Sabor was not to be diverted.  She had her eyes upon the lad.  He\nstood between her and her mate, between her and the kill.  It was\nsuspicious.  Probably he had ulterior designs upon her lord and master\nor upon the fruits of their hunting.  A lioness is short tempered.\nAkut's bellowing annoyed her.  She uttered a little rumbling growl,\ntaking a step toward the boy.\n\n\"The tree!\" screamed Akut.\n\nThe boy turned and fled, and at the same instant the lioness charged.\nThe tree was but a few paces away.  A limb hung ten feet from the\nground, and as the boy leaped for it the lioness leaped for him.  Like\na monkey he pulled himself up and to one side.  A great forepaw caught\nhim a glancing blow at the hips--just grazing him.  One curved talon\nhooked itself into the waist band of his pajama trousers, ripping them\nfrom him as the lioness sped by.  Half-naked the lad drew himself to\nsafety as the beast turned and leaped for him once more.\n\nAkut, from a near-by tree, jabbered and scolded, calling the lioness\nall manner of foul names.  The boy, patterning his conduct after that\nof his preceptor, unstoppered the vials of his invective upon the head\nof the enemy, until in realization of the futility of words as weapons\nhe bethought himself of something heavier to hurl.  There was nothing\nbut dead twigs and branches at hand, but these he flung at the\nupturned, snarling face of Sabor just as his father had before him\ntwenty years ago, when as a boy he too had taunted and tantalized the\ngreat cats of the jungle.\n\nThe lioness fretted about the bole of the tree for a short time; but\nfinally, either realizing the uselessness of her vigil, or prompted by\nthe pangs of hunger, she stalked majestically away and disappeared in\nthe brush that hid her lord, who had not once shown himself during the\naltercation.\n\nFreed from their retreats Akut and the boy came to the ground, to take\nup their interrupted journey once more.  The old ape scolded the lad\nfor his carelessness.\n\n\"Had you not been so intent upon the lion behind you you might have\ndiscovered the lioness much sooner than you did.\"\n\n\"But you passed right by her without seeing her,\" retorted the boy.\n\nAkut was chagrined.\n\n\"It is thus,\" he said, \"that jungle folk die.  We go cautiously for a\nlifetime, and then, just for an instant, we forget, and--\" he ground\nhis teeth in mimicry of the crunching of great jaws in flesh.  \"It is a\nlesson,\" he resumed.  \"You have learned that you may not for too long\nkeep your eyes and your ears and your nose all bent in the same\ndirection.\"\n\nThat night the son of Tarzan was colder than he ever had been in all\nhis life.  The pajama trousers had not been heavy; but they had been\nmuch heavier than nothing.  And the next day he roasted in the hot sun,\nfor again their way led much across wide and treeless plains.\n\nIt was still in the boy's mind to travel to the south, and circle back\nto the coast in search of another outpost of civilization.  He had said\nnothing of this plan to Akut, for he knew that the old ape would look\nwith displeasure upon any suggestion that savored of separation.\n\nFor a month the two wandered on, the boy learning rapidly the laws of\nthe jungle; his muscles adapting themselves to the new mode of life\nthat had been thrust upon them.  The thews of the sire had been\ntransmitted to the son--it needed only the hardening of use to develop\nthem.  The lad found that it came quite naturally to him to swing\nthrough the trees.  Even at great heights he never felt the slightest\ndizziness, and when he had caught the knack of the swing and the\nrelease, he could hurl himself through space from branch to branch with\neven greater agility than the heavier Akut.\n\nAnd with exposure came a toughening and hardening of his smooth, white\nskin, browning now beneath the sun and wind.  He had removed his pajama\njacket one day to bathe in a little stream that was too small to harbor\ncrocodiles, and while he and Akut had been disporting themselves in the\ncool waters a monkey had dropped down from the over hanging trees,\nsnatched up the boy's single remaining article of civilized garmenture,\nand scampered away with it.\n\nFor a time Jack was angry; but when he had been without the jacket for\na short while he began to realize that being half-clothed is infinitely\nmore uncomfortable than being entirely naked.  Soon he did not miss his\nclothing in the least, and from that he came to revel in the freedom of\nhis unhampered state.  Occasionally a smile would cross his face as he\ntried to imagine the surprise of his schoolmates could they but see him\nnow.  They would envy him.  Yes, how they would envy him.  He felt\nsorry for them at such times, and again as he thought of them amid\nluxuries and comforts of their English homes, happy with their fathers\nand mothers, a most uncomfortable lump would arise into the boy's\nthroat, and he would see a vision of his mother's face through a blur\nof mist that came unbidden to his eyes.  Then it was that he urged Akut\nonward, for now they were headed westward toward the coast.  The old\nape thought that they were searching for a tribe of his own kind, nor\ndid the boy disabuse his mind of this belief.  It would do to tell Akut\nof his real plans when they had come within sight of civilization.\n\nOne day as they were moving slowly along beside a river they came\nunexpectedly upon a native village.  Some children were playing beside\nthe water.  The boy's heart leaped within his breast at sight of\nthem--for over a month he had seen no human being.  What if these were\nnaked savages?  What if their skins were black?  Were they not\ncreatures fashioned in the mold of their Maker, as was he?  They were\nhis brothers and sisters!  He started toward them.  With a low warning\nAkut laid a hand upon his arm to hold him back.  The boy shook himself\nfree, and with a shout of greeting ran forward toward the ebon players.\n\nThe sound of his voice brought every head erect.  Wide eyes viewed him\nfor an instant, and then, with screams of terror, the children turned\nand fled toward the village.  At their heels ran their mothers, and\nfrom the village gate, in response to the alarm, came a score of\nwarriors, hastily snatched spears and shields ready in their hands.\n\nAt sight of the consternation he had wrought the boy halted.  The glad\nsmile faded from his face as with wild shouts and menacing gestures the\nwarriors ran toward him.  Akut was calling to him from behind to turn\nand flee, telling him that the blacks would kill him.  For a moment he\nstood watching them coming, then he raised his hand with the palm\ntoward them in signal for them to halt, calling out at the same time\nthat he came as a friend--that he had only wanted to play with their\nchildren.  Of course they did not understand a word that he addressed\nto them, and their answer was what any naked creature who had run\nsuddenly out of the jungle upon their women and children might have\nexpected--a shower of spears.  The missiles struck all about the boy,\nbut none touched him.  Again his spine tingled and the short hairs\nlifted at the nape of his neck and along the top of his scalp.  His\neyes narrowed.  Sudden hatred flared in them to wither the expression\nof glad friendliness that had lighted them but an instant before.  With\na low snarl, quite similar to that of a baffled beast, he turned and\nran into the jungle.  There was Akut awaiting him in a tree.  The ape\nurged him to hasten in flight, for the wise old anthropoid knew that\nthey two, naked and unarmed, were no match for the sinewy black\nwarriors who would doubtless make some sort of search for them through\nthe jungle.\n\nBut a new power moved the son of Tarzan.  He had come with a boy's glad\nand open heart to offer his friendship to these people who were human\nbeings like himself.  He had been met with suspicion and spears.  They\nhad not even listened to him.  Rage and hatred consumed him.  When Akut\nurged speed he held back.  He wanted to fight, yet his reason made it\nall too plain that it would be but a foolish sacrifice of his life to\nmeet these armed men with his naked hands and his teeth--already the\nboy thought of his teeth, of his fighting fangs, when possibility of\ncombat loomed close.\n\nMoving slowly through the trees he kept his eyes over his shoulder,\nthough he no longer neglected the possibilities of other dangers which\nmight lurk on either hand or ahead--his experience with the lioness did\nnot need a repetition to insure the permanency of the lesson it had\ntaught.  Behind he could hear the savages advancing with shouts and\ncries.  He lagged further behind until the pursuers were in sight.\nThey did not see him, for they were not looking among the branches of\nthe trees for human quarry.  The lad kept just ahead of them.  For a\nmile perhaps they continued the search, and then they turned back\ntoward the village.  Here was the boy's opportunity, that for which he\nhad been waiting, while the hot blood of revenge coursed through his\nveins until he saw his pursuers through a scarlet haze.\n\nWhen they turned back he turned and followed them.  Akut was no longer\nin sight.  Thinking that the boy followed he had gone on further ahead.\nHe had no wish to tempt fate within range of those deadly spears.\nSlinking silently from tree to tree the boy dogged the footsteps of the\nreturning warriors.  At last one dropped behind his fellows as they\nfollowed a narrow path toward the village.  A grim smile lit the lad's\nface.  Swiftly he hurried forward until he moved almost above the\nunconscious black--stalking him as Sheeta, the panther, stalked his\nprey, as the boy had seen Sheeta do on many occasions.\n\nSuddenly and silently he leaped forward and downward upon the broad\nshoulders of his prey.  In the instant of contact his fingers sought\nand found the man's throat.  The weight of the boy's body hurled the\nblack heavily to the ground, the knees in his back knocking the breath\nfrom him as he struck.  Then a set of strong, white teeth fastened\nthemselves in his neck, and muscular fingers closed tighter upon his\nwind-pipe.  For a time the warrior struggled frantically, throwing\nhimself about in an effort to dislodge his antagonist; but all the\nwhile he was weakening and all the while the grim and silent thing he\ncould not see clung tenaciously to him, and dragged him slowly into the\nbush to one side of the trail.\n\nHidden there at last, safe from the prying eyes of searchers, should\nthey miss their fellow and return for him, the lad choked the life from\nthe body of his victim.  At last he knew by the sudden struggle,\nfollowed by limp relaxation, that the warrior was dead.  Then a strange\ndesire seized him.  His whole being quivered and thrilled.\nInvoluntarily he leaped to his feet and placed one foot upon the body\nof his kill.  His chest expanded.  He raised his face toward the\nheavens and opened his mouth to voice a strange, weird cry that seemed\nscreaming within him for outward expression, but no sound passed his\nlips--he just stood there for a full minute, his face turned toward the\nsky, his breast heaving to the pent emotion, like an animate statue of\nvengeance.\n\nThe silence which marked the first great kill of the son of Tarzan was\nto typify all his future kills, just as the hideous victory cry of the\nbull ape had marked the kills of his mighty sire.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 7\n\n\nAkut, discovering that the boy was not close behind him, turned back to\nsearch for him.  He had gone but a short distance in return when he was\nbrought to a sudden and startled halt by sight of a strange figure\nmoving through the trees toward him.  It was the boy, yet could it be?\nIn his hand was a long spear, down his back hung an oblong shield such\nas the black warriors who had attacked them had worn, and upon ankle\nand arm were bands of iron and brass, while a loin cloth was twisted\nabout the youth's middle.  A knife was thrust through its folds.\n\nWhen the boy saw the ape he hastened forward to exhibit his trophies.\nProudly he called attention to each of his newly won possessions.\nBoastfully he recounted the details of his exploit.\n\n\"With my bare hands and my teeth I killed him,\" he said.  \"I would have\nmade friends with them but they chose to be my enemies.  And now that I\nhave a spear I shall show Numa, too, what it means to have me for a\nfoe.  Only the white men and the great apes, Akut, are our friends.\nThem we shall seek, all others must we avoid or kill.  This have I\nlearned of the jungle.\"\n\nThey made a detour about the hostile village, and resumed their journey\ntoward the coast.  The boy took much pride in his new weapons and\nornaments.  He practiced continually with the spear, throwing it at\nsome object ahead hour by hour as they traveled their loitering way,\nuntil he gained a proficiency such as only youthful muscles may attain\nto speedily.  All the while his training went on under the guidance of\nAkut.  No longer was there a single jungle spoor but was an open book\nto the keen eyes of the lad, and those other indefinite spoor that\nelude the senses of civilized man and are only partially appreciable to\nhis savage cousin came to be familiar friends of the eager boy.  He\ncould differentiate the innumerable species of the herbivora by scent,\nand he could tell, too, whether an animal was approaching or departing\nmerely by the waxing or waning strength of its effluvium.  Nor did he\nneed the evidence of his eyes to tell him whether there were two lions\nor four up wind,--a hundred yards away or half a mile.\n\nMuch of this had Akut taught him, but far more was instinctive\nknowledge--a species of strange intuition inherited from his father.\nHe had come to love the jungle life.  The constant battle of wits and\nsenses against the many deadly foes that lurked by day and by night\nalong the pathway of the wary and the unwary appealed to the spirit of\nadventure which breathes strong in the heart of every red-blooded son\nof primordial Adam.  Yet, though he loved it, he had not let his\nselfish desires outweigh the sense of duty that had brought him to a\nrealization of the moral wrong which lay beneath the adventurous\nescapade that had brought him to Africa.  His love of father and mother\nwas strong within him, too strong to permit unalloyed happiness which\nwas undoubtedly causing them days of sorrow.  And so he held tight to\nhis determination to find a port upon the coast where he might\ncommunicate with them and receive funds for his return to London.\nThere he felt sure that he could now persuade his parents to let him\nspend at least a portion of his time upon those African estates which\nfrom little careless remarks dropped at home he knew his father\npossessed.  That would be something, better at least than a lifetime of\nthe cramped and cloying restrictions of civilization.\n\nAnd so he was rather contented than otherwise as he made his way in the\ndirection of the coast, for while he enjoyed the liberty and the savage\npleasures of the wild his conscience was at the same time clear, for he\nknew that he was doing all that lay in his power to return to his\nparents.  He rather looked forward, too, to meeting white men\nagain--creatures of his own kind--for there had been many occasions\nupon which he had longed for other companionship than that of the old\nape.  The affair with the blacks still rankled in his heart.  He had\napproached them in such innocent good fellowship and with such\nchildlike assurance of a hospitable welcome that the reception which\nhad been accorded him had proved a shock to his boyish ideals.  He no\nlonger looked upon the black man as his brother; but rather as only\nanother of the innumerable foes of the bloodthirsty jungle--a beast of\nprey which walked upon two feet instead of four.\n\nBut if the blacks were his enemies there were those in the world who\nwere not.  There were those who always would welcome him with open\narms; who would accept him as a friend and brother, and with whom he\nmight find sanctuary from every enemy.  Yes, there were always white\nmen.  Somewhere along the coast or even in the depths of the jungle\nitself there were white men.  To them he would be a welcome visitor.\nThey would befriend him.  And there were also the great apes--the\nfriends of his father and of Akut.  How glad they would be to receive\nthe son of Tarzan of the Apes!  He hoped that he could come upon them\nbefore he found a trading post upon the coast.  He wanted to be able to\ntell his father that he had known his old friends of the jungle, that\nhe had hunted with them, that he had joined with them in their savage\nlife, and their fierce, primeval ceremonies--the strange ceremonies of\nwhich Akut had tried to tell him.  It cheered him immensely to dwell\nupon these happy meetings.  Often he rehearsed the long speech which he\nwould make to the apes, in which he would tell them of the life of\ntheir former king since he had left them.\n\nAt other times he would play at meeting with white men.  Then he would\nenjoy their consternation at sight of a naked white boy trapped in the\nwar togs of a black warrior and roaming the jungle with only a great\nape as his companion.\n\nAnd so the days passed, and with the traveling and the hunting and the\nclimbing the boy's muscles developed and his agility increased until\neven phlegmatic Akut marvelled at the prowess of his pupil.  And the\nboy, realizing his great strength and revelling in it, became careless.\nHe strode through the jungle, his proud head erect, defying danger.\nWhere Akut took to the trees at the first scent of Numa, the lad\nlaughed in the face of the king of beasts and walked boldly past him.\nGood fortune was with him for a long time.  The lions he met were\nwell-fed, perhaps, or the very boldness of the strange creature which\ninvaded their domain so filled them with surprise that thoughts of\nattack were banished from their minds as they stood, round-eyed,\nwatching his approach and his departure.  Whatever the cause, however,\nthe fact remains that on many occasions the boy passed within a few\npaces of some great lion without arousing more than a warning growl.\n\nBut no two lions are necessarily alike in character or temper.  They\ndiffer as greatly as do individuals of the human family.  Because ten\nlions act similarly under similar conditions one cannot say that the\neleventh lion will do likewise--the chances are that he will not.  The\nlion is a creature of high nervous development.  He thinks, therefore\nhe reasons.  Having a nervous system and brains he is the possessor of\ntemperament, which is affected variously by extraneous causes.  One day\nthe boy met the eleventh lion.  The former was walking across a small\nplain upon which grew little clumps of bushes.  Akut was a few yards to\nthe left of the lad who was the first to discover the presence of Numa.\n\n\"Run, Akut,\" called the boy, laughing.  \"Numa lies hid in the bushes to\nmy right.  Take to the trees.  Akut!  I, the son of Tarzan, will\nprotect you,\" and the boy, laughing, kept straight along his way which\nled close beside the brush in which Numa lay concealed.\n\nThe ape shouted to him to come away, but the lad only flourished his\nspear and executed an improvised war dance to show his contempt for the\nking of beasts.  Closer and closer to the dread destroyer he came,\nuntil, with a sudden, angry growl, the lion rose from his bed not ten\npaces from the youth.  A huge fellow he was, this lord of the jungle\nand the desert.  A shaggy mane clothed his shoulders.  Cruel fangs\narmed his great jaws.  His yellow-green eyes blazed with hatred and\nchallenge.\n\nThe boy, with his pitifully inadequate spear ready in his hand,\nrealized quickly that this lion was different from the others he had\nmet; but he had gone too far now to retreat.  The nearest tree lay\nseveral yards to his left--the lion could be upon him before he had\ncovered half the distance, and that the beast intended to charge none\ncould doubt who looked upon him now.  Beyond the lion was a thorn\ntree--only a few feet beyond him.  It was the nearest sanctuary but\nNuma stood between it and his prey.\n\nThe feel of the long spear shaft in his hand and the sight of the tree\nbeyond the lion gave the lad an idea--a preposterous idea--a\nridiculous, forlorn hope of an idea; but there was no time now to weigh\nchances--there was but a single chance, and that was the thorn tree.\nIf the lion charged it would be too late--the lad must charge first,\nand to the astonishment of Akut and none the less of Numa, the boy\nleaped swiftly toward the beast.  Just for a second was the lion\nmotionless with surprise and in that second Jack Clayton put to the\ncrucial test an accomplishment which he had practiced at school.\n\nStraight for the savage brute he ran, his spear held butt foremost\nacross his body.  Akut shrieked in terror and amazement.  The lion\nstood with wide, round eyes awaiting the attack, ready to rear upon his\nhind feet and receive this rash creature with blows that could crush\nthe skull of a buffalo.\n\nJust in front of the lion the boy placed the butt of his spear upon the\nground, gave a mighty spring, and, before the bewildered beast could\nguess the trick that had been played upon him, sailed over the lion's\nhead into the rending embrace of the thorn tree--safe but lacerated.\n\nAkut had never before seen a pole-vault.  Now he leaped up and down\nwithin the safety of his own tree, screaming taunts and boasts at the\ndiscomfited Numa, while the boy, torn and bleeding, sought some\nposition in his thorny retreat in which he might find the least agony.\nHe had saved his life; but at considerable cost in suffering.  It\nseemed to him that the lion would never leave, and it was a full hour\nbefore the angry brute gave up his vigil and strode majestically away\nacross the plain.  When he was at a safe distance the boy extricated\nhimself from the thorn tree; but not without inflicting new wounds upon\nhis already tortured flesh.\n\nIt was many days before the outward evidence of the lesson he had\nlearned had left him; while the impression upon his mind was one that\nwas to remain with him for life.  Never again did he uselessly tempt\nfate.\n\nHe took long chances often in his after life; but only when the taking\nof chances might further the attainment of some cherished end--and,\nalways thereafter, he practiced pole-vaulting.\n\nFor several days the boy and the ape lay up while the former recovered\nfrom the painful wounds inflicted by the sharp thorns.  The great\nanthropoid licked the wounds of his human friend, nor, aside from this,\ndid they receive other treatment, but they soon healed, for healthy\nflesh quickly replaces itself.\n\nWhen the lad felt fit again the two continued their journey toward the\ncoast, and once more the boy's mind was filled with pleasurable\nanticipation.\n\nAnd at last the much dreamed of moment came.  They were passing through\na tangled forest when the boy's sharp eyes discovered from the lower\nbranches through which he was traveling an old but well-marked spoor--a\nspoor that set his heart to leaping--the spoor of man, of white men,\nfor among the prints of naked feet were the well defined outlines of\nEuropean made boots.  The trail, which marked the passage of a\ngood-sized company, pointed north at right angles to the course the boy\nand the ape were taking toward the coast.\n\nDoubtless these white men knew the nearest coast settlement.  They\nmight even be headed for it now.  At any rate it would be worth while\novertaking them if even only for the pleasure of meeting again\ncreatures of his own kind.  The lad was all excitement; palpitant with\neagerness to be off in pursuit.  Akut demurred.  He wanted nothing of\nmen.  To him the lad was a fellow ape, for he was the son of the king\nof apes.  He tried to dissuade the boy, telling him that soon they\nshould come upon a tribe of their own folk where some day when he was\nolder the boy should be king as his father had before him.  But Jack\nwas obdurate.  He insisted that he wanted to see white men again.  He\nwanted to send a message to his parents.  Akut listened and as he\nlistened the intuition of the beast suggested the truth to him--the boy\nwas planning to return to his own kind.\n\nThe thought filled the old ape with sorrow.  He loved the boy as he had\nloved the father, with the loyalty and faithfulness of a hound for its\nmaster.  In his ape brain and his ape heart he had nursed the hope that\nhe and the lad would never be separated.  He saw all his fondly\ncherished plans fading away, and yet he remained loyal to the lad and\nto his wishes.  Though disconsolate he gave in to the boy's\ndetermination to pursue the safari of the white men, accompanying him\nupon what he believed would be their last journey together.\n\nThe spoor was but a couple of days old when the two discovered it,\nwhich meant that the slow-moving caravan was but a few hours distant\nfrom them whose trained and agile muscles could carry their bodies\nswiftly through the branches above the tangled undergrowth which had\nimpeded the progress of the laden carriers of the white men.\n\nThe boy was in the lead, excitement and anticipation carrying him ahead\nof his companion to whom the attainment of their goal meant only\nsorrow.  And it was the boy who first saw the rear guard of the caravan\nand the white men he had been so anxious to overtake.\n\nStumbling along the tangled trail of those ahead a dozen heavily laden\nblacks who, from fatigue or sickness, had dropped behind were being\nprodded by the black soldiers of the rear guard, kicked when they fell,\nand then roughly jerked to their feet and hustled onward.  On either\nside walked a giant white man, heavy blonde beards almost obliterating\ntheir countenances.  The boy's lips formed a glad cry of salutation as\nhis eyes first discovered the whites--a cry that was never uttered, for\nalmost immediately he witnessed that which turned his happiness to\nanger as he saw that both the white men were wielding heavy whips\nbrutally upon the naked backs of the poor devils staggering along\nbeneath loads that would have overtaxed the strength and endurance of\nstrong men at the beginning of a new day.\n\nEvery now and then the rear guard and the white men cast apprehensive\nglances rearward as though momentarily expecting the materialization of\nsome long expected danger from that quarter.  The boy had paused after\nhis first sight of the caravan, and now was following slowly in the\nwake of the sordid, brutal spectacle.  Presently Akut came up with him.\nTo the beast there was less of horror in the sight than to the lad, yet\neven the great ape growled beneath his breath at useless torture being\ninflicted upon the helpless slaves.  He looked at the boy.  Now that he\nhad caught up with the creatures of his own kind, why was it that he\ndid not rush forward and greet them?  He put the question to his\ncompanion.\n\n\"They are fiends,\" muttered the boy.  \"I would not travel with such as\nthey, for if I did I should set upon them and kill them the first time\nthey beat their people as they are beating them now; but,\" he added,\nafter a moment's thought, \"I can ask them the whereabouts of the\nnearest port, and then, Akut, we can leave them.\"\n\nThe ape made no reply, and the boy swung to the ground and started at a\nbrisk walk toward the safari.  He was a hundred yards away, perhaps,\nwhen one of the whites caught sight of him.  The man gave a shout of\nalarm, instantly levelling his rifle upon the boy and firing.  The\nbullet struck just in front of its mark, scattering turf and fallen\nleaves against the lad's legs.  A second later the other white and the\nblack soldiers of the rear guard were firing hysterically at the boy.\n\nJack leaped behind a tree, unhit.  Days of panic ridden flight through\nthe jungle had filled Carl Jenssen and Sven Malbihn with jangling\nnerves and their native boys with unreasoning terror.  Every new note\nfrom behind sounded to their frightened ears the coming of The Sheik\nand his bloodthirsty entourage.  They were in a blue funk, and the\nsight of the naked white warrior stepping silently out of the jungle\nthrough which they had just passed had been sufficient shock to let\nloose in action all the pent nerve energy of Malbihn, who had been the\nfirst to see the strange apparition.  And Malbihn's shout and shot had\nset the others going.\n\nWhen their nervous energy had spent itself and they came to take stock\nof what they had been fighting it developed that Malbihn alone had seen\nanything clearly.  Several of the blacks averred that they too had\nobtained a good view of the creature but their descriptions of it\nvaried so greatly that Jenssen, who had seen nothing himself, was\ninclined to be a trifle skeptical.  One of the blacks insisted that the\nthing had been eleven feet tall, with a man's body and the head of an\nelephant.  Another had seen THREE immense Arabs with huge, black\nbeards; but when, after conquering their nervousness, the rear guard\nadvanced upon the enemy's position to investigate they found nothing,\nfor Akut and the boy had retreated out of range of the unfriendly guns.\n\nJack was disheartened and sad.  He had not entirely recovered from the\ndepressing effect of the unfriendly reception he had received at the\nhands of the blacks, and now he had found an even more hostile one\naccorded him by men of his own color.\n\n\"The lesser beasts flee from me in terror,\" he murmured, half to\nhimself, \"the greater beasts are ready to tear me to pieces at sight.\nBlack men would kill me with their spears or arrows.  And now white\nmen, men of my own kind, have fired upon me and driven me away.  Are\nall the creatures of the world my enemies?  Has the son of Tarzan no\nfriend other than Akut?\"\n\nThe old ape drew closer to the boy.\n\n\"There are the great apes,\" he said.  \"They only will be the friends of\nAkut's friend.  Only the great apes will welcome the son of Tarzan.\nYou have seen that men want nothing of you.  Let us go now and continue\nour search for the great apes--our people.\"\n\nThe language of the great apes is a combination of monosyllabic\ngutturals, amplified by gestures and signs.  It may not be literally\ntranslated into human speech; but as near as may be this is what Akut\nsaid to the boy.\n\nThe two proceeded in silence for some time after Akut had spoken.  The\nboy was immersed in deep thought--bitter thoughts in which hatred and\nrevenge predominated.  Finally he spoke:  \"Very well, Akut,\" he said,\n\"we will find our friends, the great apes.\"\n\nThe anthropoid was overjoyed; but he gave no outward demonstration of\nhis pleasure.  A low grunt was his only response, and a moment later he\nhad leaped nimbly upon a small and unwary rodent that had been\nsurprised at a fatal distance from its burrow.  Tearing the unhappy\ncreature in two Akut handed the lion's share to the lad.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 8\n\n\nA year had passed since the two Swedes had been driven in terror from\nthe savage country where The Sheik held sway.  Little Meriem still\nplayed with Geeka, lavishing all her childish love upon the now almost\nhopeless ruin of what had never, even in its palmiest days, possessed\neven a slight degree of loveliness.  But to Meriem, Geeka was all that\nwas sweet and adorable.  She carried to the deaf ears of the battered\nivory head all her sorrows all her hopes and all her ambitions, for\neven in the face of hopelessness, in the clutches of the dread\nauthority from which there was no escape, little Meriem yet cherished\nhopes and ambitions.  It is true that her ambitions were rather\nnebulous in form, consisting chiefly of a desire to escape with Geeka\nto some remote and unknown spot where there were no Sheiks, no\nMabunus--where El Adrea could find no entrance, and where she might\nplay all day surrounded only by flowers and birds and the harmless\nlittle monkeys playing in the tree tops.\n\nThe Sheik had been away for a long time, conducting a caravan of ivory,\nskins, and rubber far into the north.  The interim had been one of\ngreat peace for Meriem.  It is true that Mabunu had still been with\nher, to pinch or beat her as the mood seized the villainous old hag;\nbut Mabunu was only one.  When The Sheik was there also there were two\nof them, and The Sheik was stronger and more brutal even than Mabunu.\nLittle Meriem often wondered why the grim old man hated her so.  It is\ntrue that he was cruel and unjust to all with whom he came in contact,\nbut to Meriem he reserved his greatest cruelties, his most studied\ninjustices.\n\nToday Meriem was squatting at the foot of a large tree which grew\ninside the palisade close to the edge of the village.  She was\nfashioning a tent of leaves for Geeka.  Before the tent were some\npieces of wood and small leaves and a few stones.  These were the\nhousehold utensils.  Geeka was cooking dinner.  As the little girl\nplayed she prattled continuously to her companion, propped in a sitting\nposition with a couple of twigs.  She was totally absorbed in the\ndomestic duties of Geeka--so much so that she did not note the gentle\nswaying of the branches of the tree above her as they bent to the body\nof the creature that had entered them stealthily from the jungle.\n\nIn happy ignorance the little girl played on, while from above two\nsteady eyes looked down upon her--unblinking, unwavering.  There was\nnone other than the little girl in this part of the village, which had\nbeen almost deserted since The Sheik had left long months before upon\nhis journey toward the north.\n\nAnd out in the jungle, an hour's march from the village, The Sheik was\nleading his returning caravan homeward.\n\n\nA year had passed since the white men had fired upon the lad and driven\nhim back into the jungle to take up his search for the only remaining\ncreatures to whom he might look for companionship--the great apes.  For\nmonths the two had wandered eastward, deeper and deeper into the\njungle.  The year had done much for the boy--turning his already mighty\nmuscles to thews of steel, developing his woodcraft to a point where it\nverged upon the uncanny, perfecting his arboreal instincts, and\ntraining him in the use of both natural and artificial weapons.\n\nHe had become at last a creature of marvelous physical powers and\nmental cunning.  He was still but a boy, yet so great was his strength\nthat the powerful anthropoid with which he often engaged in mimic\nbattle was no match for him.  Akut had taught him to fight as the bull\nape fights, nor ever was there a teacher better fitted to instruct in\nthe savage warfare of primordial man, or a pupil better equipped to\nprofit by the lessons of a master.\n\nAs the two searched for a band of the almost extinct species of ape to\nwhich Akut belonged they lived upon the best the jungle afforded.\nAntelope and zebra fell to the boy's spear, or were dragged down by the\ntwo powerful beasts of prey who leaped upon them from some overhanging\nlimb or from the ambush of the undergrowth beside the trail to the\nwater hole or the ford.\n\nThe pelt of a leopard covered the nakedness of the youth; but the\nwearing of it had not been dictated by any prompting of modesty.  With\nthe rifle shots of the white men showering about him he had reverted to\nthe savagery of the beast that is inherent in each of us, but that\nflamed more strongly in this boy whose father had been raised a beast\nof prey.  He wore his leopard skin at first in response to a desire to\nparade a trophy of his prowess, for he had slain the leopard with his\nknife in a hand-to-hand combat.  He saw that the skin was beautiful,\nwhich appealed to his barbaric sense of ornamentation, and when it\nstiffened and later commenced to decompose because of his having no\nknowledge of how to cure or tan it was  with sorrow and regret that he\ndiscarded it.  Later, when he chanced upon a lone, black warrior\nwearing the counterpart of it, soft and clinging and beautiful from\nproper curing, it required but an instant to leap from above upon the\nshoulders of the unsuspecting black, sink a keen blade into his heart\nand possess the rightly preserved hide.\n\nThere were no after-qualms of conscience.  In the jungle might is\nright, nor does it take long to inculcate this axiom in the mind of a\njungle dweller, regardless of what his past training may have been.\nThat the black would have killed him had he had the chance the boy knew\nfull well.  Neither he nor the black were any more sacred than the\nlion, or the buffalo, the zebra or the deer, or any other of the\ncountless creatures who roamed, or slunk, or flew, or wriggled through\nthe dark mazes of the forest.  Each had but a single life, which was\nsought by many.  The greater number of enemies slain the better chance\nto prolong that life.  So the boy smiled and donned the finery of the\nvanquished, and went his way with Akut, searching, always searching for\nthe elusive anthropoids who were to welcome them with open arms.  And\nat last they found them.  Deep in the jungle, buried far from sight of\nman, they came upon such another little natural arena as had witnessed\nthe wild ceremony of the Dum-Dum in which the boy's father had taken\npart long years before.\n\nFirst, at a great distance, they heard the beating of the drum of the\ngreat apes.  They were sleeping in the safety of a huge tree when the\nbooming sound smote upon their ears.  Both awoke at once.  Akut was the\nfirst to interpret the strange cadence.\n\n\"The great apes!\" he growled.  \"They dance the Dum-Dum.  Come, Korak,\nson of Tarzan, let us go to our people.\"\n\nMonths before Akut had given the boy a name of his own choosing, since\nhe could not master the man given name of Jack.  Korak is as near as it\nmay be interpreted into human speech.  In the language of the apes it\nmeans Killer.  Now the Killer rose upon the branch of the great tree\nwhere he had been sleeping with his back braced against the stem.  He\nstretched his lithe young muscles, the moonlight filtering through the\nfoliage from above dappling his brown skin with little patches of light.\n\nThe ape, too, stood up, half squatting after the manner of his kind.\nLow growls rumbled from the bottom of his deep chest--growls of excited\nanticipation.  The boy growled in harmony with the ape.  Then the\nanthropoid slid softly to the ground.  Close by, in the direction of\nthe booming drum, lay a clearing which they must cross.  The moon\nflooded it with silvery light.  Half-erect, the great ape shuffled into\nthe full glare of the moon.  At his side, swinging gracefully along in\nmarked contrast to the awkwardness of his companion, strode the boy,\nthe dark, shaggy coat of the one brushing against the smooth, clear\nhide of the other.  The lad was humming now, a music hall air that had\nfound its way to the forms of the great English public school that was\nto see him no more.  He was happy and expectant.  The moment he had\nlooked forward to for so long was about to be realized.  He was coming\ninto his own.  He was coming home.  As the months had dragged or flown\nalong, retarded or spurred on as privation or adventure predominated,\nthoughts of his own home, while oft recurring, had become less vivid.\nThe old life had grown to seem more like a dream than a reality, and\nthe balking of his determination to reach the coast and return to\nLondon had finally thrown the hope of realization so remotely into the\nfuture that it too now seemed little more than a pleasant but hopeless\ndream.\n\nNow all thoughts of London and civilization were crowded so far into\nthe background of his brain that they might as well have been\nnon-existent.  Except for form and mental development he was as much an\nape as the great, fierce creature at his side.\n\nIn the exuberance of his joy he slapped his companion roughly on the\nside of the head.  Half in anger, half in play the anthropoid turned\nupon him, his fangs bared and glistening.  Long, hairy arms reached out\nto seize him, and, as they had done a thousand times before, the two\nclinched in mimic battle, rolling upon the sward, striking, growling\nand biting, though never closing their teeth in more than a rough\npinch.  It was wondrous practice for them both.  The boy brought into\nplay wrestling tricks that he had learned at school, and many of these\nAkut learned to use and to foil.  And from the ape the boy learned the\nmethods that had been handed down to Akut from some common ancestor of\nthem both, who had roamed the teeming earth when ferns were trees and\ncrocodiles were birds.\n\nBut there was one art the boy possessed which Akut could not master,\nthough he did achieve fair proficiency in it for an ape--boxing.  To\nhave his bull-like charges stopped and crumpled with a suddenly planted\nfist upon the end of his snout, or a painful jolt in the short ribs,\nalways surprised Akut.  It angered him too, and at such times his\nmighty jaws came nearer to closing in the soft flesh of his friend than\nat any other, for he was still an ape, with an ape's short temper and\nbrutal instincts; but the difficulty was in catching his tormentor\nwhile his rage lasted, for when he lost his head and rushed madly into\nclose quarters with the boy he discovered that the stinging hail of\nblows released upon him always found their mark and effectually stopped\nhim--effectually and painfully.  Then he would withdraw growling\nviciously, backing away with grinning jaws distended, to sulk for an\nhour or so.\n\nTonight they did not box.  Just for a moment or two they wrestled\nplayfully, until the scent of Sheeta, the panther, brought them to\ntheir feet, alert and wary.  The great cat was passing through the\njungle in front of them.  For a moment it paused, listening.  The boy\nand the ape growled menacingly in chorus and the carnivore moved on.\n\nThen the two took up their journey toward the sound of the Dum-Dum.\nLouder and louder came the beating of the drum.  Now, at last, they\ncould hear the growling of the dancing apes, and strong to their\nnostrils came the scent of their kind.  The lad trembled with\nexcitement.  The hair down Akut's spine stiffened--the symptoms of\nhappiness and anger are often similar.\n\nSilently they crept through the jungle as they neared the meeting place\nof the apes.  Now they were in the trees, worming their way forward,\nalert for sentinels.  Presently through a break in the foliage the\nscene burst upon the eager eyes of the boy.  To Akut it was a familiar\none; but to Korak it was all new.  His nerves tingled at the savage\nsight.  The great bulls were dancing in the moonlight, leaping in an\nirregular circle about the flat-topped earthen drum about which three\nold females sat beating its resounding top with sticks worn smooth by\nlong years of use.\n\nAkut, knowing the temper and customs of his kind, was too wise to make\ntheir presence known until the frenzy of the dance had passed.  After\nthe drum was quiet and the bellies of the tribe well-filled he would\nhail them.  Then would come a parley, after which he and Korak would be\naccepted into membership by the community.  There might be those who\nwould object; but such could be overcome by brute force, of which he\nand the lad had an ample surplus.  For weeks, possibly months, their\npresence might cause ever decreasing suspicion among others of the\ntribe; but eventually they would become as born brothers to these\nstrange apes.\n\nHe hoped that they had been among those who had known Tarzan, for that\nwould help in the introduction of the lad and in the consummation of\nAkut's dearest wish, that Korak should become king of the apes.  It was\nwith difficulty, however, that Akut kept the boy from rushing into the\nmidst of the dancing anthropoids--an act that would have meant the\ninstant extermination of them both, since the hysterical frenzy into\nwhich the great apes work themselves during the performance of their\nstrange rites is of such a nature that even the most ferocious of the\ncarnivora give them a wide berth at such times.\n\nAs the moon declined slowly toward the lofty, foliaged horizon of the\namphitheater the booming of the drum decreased and lessened were the\nexertions of the dancers, until, at last, the final note was struck and\nthe huge beasts turned to fall upon the feast they had dragged hither\nfor the orgy.\n\nFrom what he had seen and heard Akut was able to explain to Korak that\nthe rites proclaimed the choosing of a new king, and he pointed out to\nthe boy the massive figure of the shaggy monarch, come into his\nkingship, no doubt, as many human rulers have come into theirs--by the\nmurder of his predecessor.\n\nWhen the apes had filled their bellies and many of them had sought the\nbases of the trees to curl up in sleep Akut plucked Korak by the arm.\n\n\"Come,\" he whispered.  \"Come slowly.  Follow me.  Do as Akut does.\"\n\nThen he advanced slowly through the trees until he stood upon a bough\noverhanging one side of the amphitheater.  Here he stood in silence for\na moment.  Then he uttered a low growl.  Instantly a score of apes\nleaped to their feet.  Their savage little eyes sped quickly around the\nperiphery of the clearing.  The king ape was the first to see the two\nfigures upon the branch.  He gave voice to an ominous growl.  Then he\ntook a few lumbering steps in the direction of the intruders.  His hair\nwas bristling.  His legs were stiff, imparting a halting, jerky motion\nto his gait.  Behind him pressed a number of bulls.\n\nHe stopped just a little before he came beneath the two--just far\nenough to be beyond their spring.  Wary king!  Here he stood rocking\nhimself to and fro upon his short legs, baring his fangs in hideous\ngrinnings, rumbling out an ever increasing volume of growls, which were\nslowly but steadily increasing to the proportions of roars.  Akut knew\nthat he was planning an attack upon them.  The old ape did not wish to\nfight.  He had come with the boy to cast his lot with the tribe.\n\n\"I am Akut,\" he said.  \"This is Korak.  Korak is the son of Tarzan who\nwas king of the apes.  I, too, was king of the apes who dwelt in the\nmidst of the great waters.  We have come to hunt with you, to fight\nwith you.  We are great hunters.  We are mighty fighters.  Let us come\nin peace.\"\n\nThe king ceased his rocking.  He eyed the pair from beneath his\nbeetling brows.  His bloodshot eyes were savage and crafty.  His\nkingship was very new and he was jealous of it.  He feared the\nencroachments of two strange apes.  The sleek, brown, hairless body of\nthe lad spelled \"man,\" and man he feared and hated.\n\n\"Go away!\" he growled.  \"Go away, or I will kill you.\"\n\nThe eager lad, standing behind the great Akut, had been pulsing with\nanticipation and happiness.  He wanted to leap down among these hairy\nmonsters and show them that he was their friend, that he was one of\nthem.  He had expected that they would receive him with open arms, and\nnow the words of the king ape filled him with indignation and sorrow.\nThe blacks had set upon him and driven him away.  Then he had turned to\nthe white men--to those of his own kind--only to hear the ping of\nbullets where he had expected words of cordial welcome.  The great apes\nhad remained his final hope.  To them he looked for the companionship\nman had denied him.  Suddenly rage overwhelmed him.\n\nThe king ape was almost directly beneath him.  The others were formed\nin a half circle several yards behind the king.  They were watching\nevents interestedly.  Before Akut could guess his intention, or\nprevent, the boy leaped to the ground directly in the path of the king,\nwho had now succeeded in stimulating himself to a frenzy of fury.\n\n\"I am Korak!\" shouted the boy.  \"I am the Killer.  I came to live among\nyou as a friend.  You want to drive me away.  Very well, then, I shall\ngo; but before I go I shall show you that the son of Tarzan is your\nmaster, as his father was before him--that he is not afraid of your\nking or you.\"\n\nFor an instant the king ape had stood motionless with surprise.  He had\nexpected no such rash action upon the part of either of the intruders.\nAkut was equally surprised.  Now he shouted excitedly for Korak to come\nback, for he knew that in the sacred arena the other bulls might be\nexpected to come to the assistance of their king against an outsider,\nthough there was small likelihood that the king would need assistance.\nOnce those mighty jaws closed upon the boy's soft neck the end would\ncome quickly.  To leap to his rescue would mean death for Akut, too;\nbut the brave old ape never hesitated.  Bristling and growling, he\ndropped to the sward just as the king ape charged.\n\nThe beast's hands clutched for their hold as the animal sprang upon the\nlad.  The fierce jaws were wide distended to bury the yellow fangs\ndeeply in the brown hide.  Korak, too, leaped forward to meet the\nattack; but leaped crouching, beneath the outstretched arms.  At the\ninstant of contact the lad pivoted on one foot, and with all the weight\nof his body and the strength of his trained muscles drove a clenched\nfist into the bull's stomach.  With a gasping shriek the king ape\ncollapsed, clutching futilely for the agile, naked creature nimbly\nsidestepping from his grasp.\n\nHowls of rage and dismay broke from the bull apes behind the fallen\nking, as with murder in their savage little hearts they rushed forward\nupon Korak and Akut; but the old ape was too wise to court any such\nunequal encounter.  To have counseled the boy to retreat now would have\nbeen futile, and Akut knew it.  To delay even a second in argument\nwould have sealed the death warrants of them both.  There was but a\nsingle hope and Akut seized it.  Grasping the lad around the waist he\nlifted him bodily from the ground, and turning ran swiftly toward\nanother tree which swung low branches above the arena.  Close upon\ntheir heels swarmed the hideous mob; but Akut, old though he was and\nburdened by the weight of the struggling Korak, was still fleeter than\nhis pursuers.\n\nWith a bound he grasped a low limb, and with the agility of a little\nmonkey swung himself and the boy to temporary safety.  Nor did he\nhesitate even here; but raced on through the jungle night, bearing his\nburden to safety.  For a time the bulls pursued; but presently, as the\nswifter outdistanced the slower and found themselves separated from\ntheir fellows they abandoned the chase, standing roaring and screaming\nuntil the jungle reverberated to their hideous noises.  Then they\nturned and retraced their way to the amphitheater.\n\nWhen Akut felt assured that they were no longer pursued he stopped and\nreleased Korak.  The boy was furious.\n\n\"Why did you drag me away?\" he cried.  \"I would have taught them!  I\nwould have taught them all!  Now they will think that I am afraid of\nthem.\"\n\n\"What they think cannot harm you,\" said Akut.  \"You are alive.  If I\nhad not brought you away you would be dead now and so would I.  Do you\nnot know that even Numa slinks from the path of the great apes when\nthere are many of them and they are mad?\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 9\n\n\nIt was an unhappy Korak who wandered aimlessly through the jungle the\nday following his inhospitable reception by the great apes.  His heart\nwas heavy from disappointment.  Unsatisfied vengeance smoldered in his\nbreast.  He looked with hatred upon the denizens of his jungle world,\nbaring his fighting fangs and growling at those that came within\nradius of his senses.  The mark of his father's early life was strong\nupon him and enhanced by months of association with beasts, from whom\nthe imitative faculty of youth had absorbed a countless number of\nlittle mannerisms of the predatory creatures of the wild.\n\nHe bared his fangs now as naturally and upon as slight provocation as\nSheeta, the panther, bared his.  He growled as ferociously as Akut\nhimself.  When he came suddenly upon another beast his quick crouch\nbore a strange resemblance to the arching of a cat's back.  Korak, the\nkiller, was looking for trouble.  In his heart of hearts he hoped to\nmeet the king ape who had driven him from the amphitheater.  To this\nend he insisted upon remaining in the vicinity; but the exigencies of\nthe perpetual search for food led them several miles further away\nduring day.\n\nThey were moving slowly down wind, and warily because the advantage was\nwith whatever beast might chance to be hunting ahead of them, where\ntheir scent-spoor was being borne by the light breeze.  Suddenly the\ntwo halted simultaneously.  Two heads were cocked upon one side.  Like\ncreatures hewn from solid rock they stood immovable, listening.  Not a\nmuscle quivered.  For several seconds they remained thus, then Korak\nadvanced cautiously a few yards and leaped nimbly into a tree.  Akut\nfollowed close upon his heels.  Neither had made a noise that would\nhave been appreciable to human ears at a dozen paces.\n\nStopping often to listen they crept forward through the trees.  That\nboth were greatly puzzled was apparent from the questioning looks they\ncast at one another from time to time.  Finally the lad caught a\nglimpse of a palisade a hundred yards ahead, and beyond it the tops of\nsome goatskin tents and a number of thatched huts.  His lip upcurled in\na savage snarl.  Blacks!  How he hated them.  He signed to Akut to\nremain where he was while he advanced to reconnoiter.\n\nWoe betide the unfortunate villager whom The Killer came upon now.\nSlinking through the lower branches of the trees, leaping lightly from\none jungle giant to its neighbor where the distance was not too great,\nor swinging from one hand hold to another Korak came silently toward\nthe village.  He heard a voice beyond the palisade and toward that he\nmade his way.  A great tree overhung the enclosure at the very point\nfrom which the voice came.  Into this Korak crept.  His spear was ready\nin his hand.  His ears told him of the proximity of a human being.  All\nthat his eyes required was a single glance to show him his target.\nThen, lightning like, the missile would fly to its goal.  With raised\nspear he crept among the branches of the tree glaring narrowly downward\nin search of the owner of the voice which rose to him from below.\n\nAt last he saw a human back.  The spear hand flew to the limit of the\nthrowing position to gather the force that would send the iron shod\nmissile completely through the body of the unconscious victim.  And\nthen The Killer paused.  He leaned forward a little to get a better\nview of the target.  Was it to insure more perfect aim, or had there\nbeen that in the graceful lines and the childish curves of the little\nbody below him that had held in check the spirit of murder running riot\nin his veins?\n\nHe lowered his spear cautiously that it might make no noise by scraping\nagainst foliage or branches.  Quietly he crouched in a comfortable\nposition along a great limb and there he lay with wide eyes looking\ndown in wonder upon the creature he had crept upon to kill--looking\ndown upon a little girl, a little nut brown maiden.  The snarl had gone\nfrom his lip.  His only expression was one of interested attention--he\nwas trying to discover what the girl was doing.  Suddenly a broad grin\noverspread his face, for a turn of the girl's body had revealed Geeka\nof the ivory head and the rat skin torso--Geeka of the splinter limbs\nand the disreputable appearance.  The little girl raised the marred\nface to hers and rocking herself backward and forward crooned a\nplaintive Arab lullaby to the doll.  A softer light entered the eyes of\nThe Killer.  For a long hour that passed very quickly to him Korak lay\nwith gaze riveted upon the playing child.  Not once had he had a view\nof the girl's full face.  For the most part he saw only a mass of wavy,\nblack hair, one brown little shoulder exposed upon the side from where\nher single robe was caught beneath her arm, and a shapely knee\nprotruding from beneath her garment as she sat cross legged upon the\nground.  A tilt of the head as she emphasized some maternal admonition\nto the passive Geeka revealed occasionally a rounded cheek or a piquant\nlittle chin.  Now she was shaking a slim finger at Geeka, reprovingly,\nand again she crushed to her heart this only object upon which she\nmight lavish the untold wealth of her childish affections.\n\nKorak, momentarily forgetful of his bloody mission, permitted the\nfingers of his spear hand to relax a little their grasp upon the shaft\nof his formidable weapon.  It slipped, almost falling; but the\noccurrence recalled The Killer to himself.  It reminded him of his\npurpose in slinking stealthily upon the owner of the voice that had\nattracted his vengeful attention.  He glanced at the spear, with its\nwell-worn grip and cruel, barbed head.  Then he let his eyes wander\nagain to the dainty form below him.  In imagination he saw the heavy\nweapon shooting downward.  He saw it pierce the tender flesh, driving\nits way deep into the yielding body.  He saw the ridiculous doll drop\nfrom its owner's arms to lie sprawled and pathetic beside the quivering\nbody of the little girl.  The Killer shuddered, scowling at the\ninanimate iron and wood of the spear as though they constituted a\nsentient being endowed with a malignant mind.\n\nKorak wondered what the girl would do were he to drop suddenly from the\ntree to her side.  Most likely she would scream and run away.  Then\nwould come the men of the village with spears and guns and set upon\nhim.  They would either kill him or drive him away.  A lump rose in the\nboy's throat.  He craved the companionship of his own kind, though he\nscarce realized how greatly.  He would have liked to slip down beside\nthe little girl and talk with her, though he knew from the words he had\noverheard that she spoke a language with which he was unfamiliar.  They\ncould have talked by signs a little.  That would have been better than\nnothing.  Too, he would have been glad to see her face.  What he had\nglimpsed assured him that she was pretty; but her strongest appeal to\nhim lay in the affectionate nature revealed by her gentle mothering of\nthe grotesque doll.\n\nAt last he hit upon a plan.  He would attract her attention, and\nreassure her by a smiling greeting from a greater distance.  Silently\nhe wormed his way back into the tree.  It was his intention to hail her\nfrom beyond the palisade, giving her the feeling of security which he\nimagined the stout barricade would afford.\n\nHe had scarcely left his position in the tree when his attention was\nattracted by a considerable noise upon the opposite side of the\nvillage.  By moving a little he could see the gate at the far end of\nthe main street.  A number of men, women and children were running\ntoward it.  It swung open, revealing the head of a caravan upon the\nopposite side.  In trooped the motley organization--black slaves and\ndark hued Arabs of the northern deserts; cursing camel drivers urging\non their vicious charges; overburdened donkeys, waving sadly pendulous\nears while they endured with stoic patience the brutalities of their\nmasters; goats, sheep and horses.  Into the village they all trooped\nbehind a tall, sour, old man, who rode without greetings to those who\nshrunk from his path directly to a large goatskin tent in the center of\nthe village.  Here he spoke to a wrinkled hag.\n\nKorak, from his vantage spot, could see it all.  He saw the old man\nasking questions of the black woman, and then he saw the latter point\ntoward a secluded corner of the village which was hidden from the main\nstreet by the tents of the Arabs and the huts of the natives in the\ndirection of the tree beneath which the little girl played.  This was\ndoubtless her father, thought Korak.  He had been away and his first\nthought upon returning was of his little daughter.  How glad she would\nbe to see him!  How she would run and throw herself into his arms, to\nbe crushed to his breast and covered with his kisses.  Korak sighed.\nHe thought of his own father and mother far away in London.\n\nHe returned to his place in the tree above the girl.  If he couldn't\nhave happiness of this sort himself he wanted to enjoy the happiness of\nothers.  Possibly if he made himself known to the old man he might be\npermitted to come to the village occasionally as a friend.  It would be\nworth trying.  He would wait until the old Arab had greeted his\ndaughter, then he would make his presence known with signs of peace.\n\nThe Arab was striding softly toward the girl.  In a moment he would be\nbeside her, and then how surprised and delighted she would be!  Korak's\neyes sparkled in anticipation--and now the old man stood behind the\nlittle girl.  His stern old face was still unrelaxed.  The child was\nyet unconscious of his presence.  She prattled on to the unresponsive\nGeeka.  Then the old man coughed.  With a start the child glanced\nquickly up over her shoulder.  Korak could see her full face now.  It\nwas very beautiful in its sweet and innocent childishness--all soft and\nlovely curves.  He could see her great, dark eyes.  He looked for the\nhappy love light that would follow recognition; but it did not come.\nInstead, terror, stark, paralyzing terror, was mirrored in her eyes, in\nthe expression of her mouth, in the tense, cowering attitude of her\nbody.  A grim smile curved the thin, cruel lip of the Arab.  The child\nessayed to crawl away; but before she could get out of his reach the\nold man kicked her brutally, sending her sprawling upon the grass.\nThen he followed her up to seize and strike her as was his custom.\n\nAbove them, in the tree, a beast crouched where a moment before had\nbeen a boy--a beast with dilating nostrils and bared fangs--a beast\nthat trembled with rage.\n\nThe Sheik was stooping to reach for the girl when The Killer dropped to\nthe ground at his side.  His spear was still in his left hand but he\nhad forgotten it.  Instead his right fist was clenched and as The Sheik\ntook a backward step, astonished by the sudden materialization of this\nstrange apparition apparently out of clear air, the heavy fist landed\nfull upon his mouth backed by the weight of the young giant and the\nterrific power of his more than human muscles.\n\nBleeding and senseless The Sheik sank to earth.  Korak turned toward\nthe child.  She had regained her feet and stood wide eyed and\nfrightened, looking first into his face and then, horror struck, at the\nrecumbent figure of The Sheik.  In an involuntary gesture of protection\nThe Killer threw an arm about the girl's shoulders and stood waiting\nfor the Arab to regain consciousness.  For a moment they remained thus,\nwhen the girl spoke.\n\n\"When he regains his senses he will kill me,\" she said, in Arabic.\n\nKorak could not understand her.  He shook his head, speaking to her\nfirst in English and then in the language of the great apes; but\nneither of these was intelligible to her.  She leaned forward and\ntouched the hilt of the long knife that the Arab wore.  Then she raised\nher clasped hand above her head and drove an imaginary blade into her\nbreast above her heart.  Korak understood.  The old man would kill her.\nThe girl came to his side again and stood there trembling.  She did not\nfear him.  Why should she?  He had saved her from a terrible beating at\nthe hands of The Sheik.  Never, in her memory, had another so\nbefriended her.  She looked up into his face.  It was a boyish,\nhandsome face, nut-brown like her own.  She admired the spotted leopard\nskin that circled his lithe body from one shoulder to his knees.  The\nmetal anklets and armlets adorning him aroused her envy.  Always had\nshe coveted something of the kind; but never had The Sheik permitted\nher more than the single cotton garment that barely sufficed to cover\nher nakedness.  No furs or silks or jewelry had there ever been for\nlittle Meriem.\n\nAnd Korak looked at the girl.  He had always held girls in a species of\ncontempt.  Boys who associated with them were, in his estimation,\nmollycoddles.  He wondered what he should do.  Could he leave her here\nto be abused, possibly murdered, by the villainous old Arab?  No!  But,\non the other hand, could he take her into the jungle with him?  What\ncould he accomplish burdened by a weak and frightened girl?  She would\nscream at her own shadow when the moon came out upon the jungle night\nand the great beasts roamed, moaning and roaring, through the darkness.\n\nHe stood for several minutes buried in thought.  The girl watched his\nface, wondering what was passing in his mind.  She, too, was thinking\nof the future.  She feared to remain and suffer the vengeance of The\nSheik.  There was no one in all the world to whom she might turn, other\nthan this half-naked stranger who had dropped miraculously from the\nclouds to save her from one of The Sheik's accustomed beatings.  Would\nher new friend leave her now?  Wistfully she gazed at his intent face.\nShe moved a little closer to him, laying a slim, brown hand upon his\narm.  The contact awakened the lad from his absorption.  He looked down\nat her, and then his arm went about her shoulder once more, for he saw\ntears upon her lashes.\n\n\"Come,\" he said.  \"The jungle is kinder than man.  You shall live in\nthe jungle and Korak and Akut will protect you.\"\n\nShe did not understand his words, but the pressure of his arm drawing\nher away from the prostrate Arab and the tents was quite intelligible.\nOne little arm crept about his waist and together they walked toward\nthe palisade.  Beneath the great tree that had harbored Korak while he\nwatched the girl at play he lifted her in his arms and throwing her\nlightly across his shoulder leaped nimbly into the lower branches.  Her\narms were about his neck and from one little hand Geeka dangled down\nhis straight young back.\n\nAnd so Meriem entered the jungle with Korak, trusting, in her childish\ninnocence, the stranger who had befriended her, and perhaps influenced\nin her belief in him by that strange intuitive power possessed by\nwoman.  She had no conception of what the future might hold.  She did\nnot know, nor could she have guessed the manner of life led by her\nprotector.  Possibly she pictured a distant village similar to that of\nThe Sheik in which lived other white men like the stranger.  That she\nwas to be taken into the savage, primeval life of a jungle beast could\nnot have occurred to her.  Had it, her little heart would have\npalpitated with fear.  Often had she wished to run away from the\ncruelties of The Sheik and Mabunu; but the dangers of the jungle always\nhad deterred her.\n\nThe two had gone but a short distance from the village when the girl\nspied the huge proportions of the great Akut.  With a half-stifled\nscream she clung more closely to Korak, and pointed fearfully toward\nthe ape.\n\nAkut, thinking that The Killer was returning with a prisoner, came\ngrowling toward them--a little girl aroused no more sympathy in the\nbeast's heart than would a full-grown bull ape.  She was a stranger and\ntherefore to be killed.  He bared his yellow fangs as he approached,\nand to his surprise The Killer bared his likewise, but he bared them at\nAkut, and snarled menacingly.\n\n\"Ah,\" thought Akut, \"The Killer has taken a mate,\" and so, obedient to\nthe tribal laws of his kind, he left them alone, becoming suddenly\nabsorbed in a fuzzy caterpillar of peculiarly succulent appearance.\nThe larva disposed of, he glanced from the corner of an eye at Korak.\nThe youth had deposited his burden upon a large limb, where she clung\ndesperately to keep from falling.\n\n\"She will accompany us,\" said Korak to Akut, jerking a thumb in the\ndirection of the girl.  \"Do not harm her.  We will protect her.\"\n\nAkut shrugged.  To be burdened by the young of man was in no way to his\nliking.  He could see from her evident fright at her position on the\nbranch, and from the terrified glances she cast in his direction that\nshe was hopelessly unfit.  By all the ethics of Akut's training and\ninheritance the unfit should be eliminated; but if The Killer wished\nthis there was nothing to be done about it but to tolerate her.  Akut\ncertainly didn't want her--of that he was quite positive.  Her skin was\ntoo smooth and hairless.  Quite snake-like, in fact, and her face was\nmost unattractive.  Not at all like that of a certain lovely she he had\nparticularly noticed among the apes in the amphitheater the previous\nnight.  Ah, there was true feminine beauty for one!--a great, generous\nmouth; lovely, yellow fangs, and the cutest, softest side whiskers!\nAkut sighed.  Then he rose, expanded his great chest and strutted back\nand forth along a substantial branch, for even a puny thing like this\nshe of Korak's might admire his fine coat and his graceful carriage.\n\nBut poor little Meriem only shrank closer to Korak and almost wished\nthat she were back in the village of The Sheik where the terrors of\nexistence were of human origin, and so more or less familiar.  The\nhideous ape frightened her.  He was so large and so ferocious in\nappearance.  His actions she could only interpret as a menace, for how\ncould she guess that he was parading to excite admiration?  Nor could\nshe know of the bond of fellowship which existed between this great\nbrute and the godlike youth who had rescued her from the Sheik.\n\nMeriem spent an evening and a night of unmitigated terror.  Korak and\nAkut led her along dizzy ways as they searched for food.  Once they hid\nher in the branches of a tree while they stalked a near-by buck.  Even\nher natural terror of being left alone in the awful jungle was\nsubmerged in a greater horror as she saw the man and the beast spring\nsimultaneously upon their prey and drag it down, as she saw the\nhandsome face of her preserver contorted in a bestial snarl; as she saw\nhis strong, white teeth buried in the soft flesh of the kill.\n\nWhen he came back to her blood smeared his face and hands and breast\nand she shrank from him as he offered her a huge hunk of hot, raw meat.\nHe was evidently much disturbed by her refusal to eat, and when, a\nmoment later, he scampered away into the forest to return with fruit\nfor her she was once more forced to alter her estimation of him.  This\ntime she did not shrink, but acknowledged his gift with a smile that,\nhad she known it, was more than ample payment to the affection starved\nboy.\n\nThe sleeping problem vexed Korak.  He knew that the girl could not\nbalance herself in safety in a tree crotch while she slept, nor would\nit be safe to permit her to sleep upon the ground open to the attacks\nof prowling beasts of prey.  There was but a single solution that\npresented itself--he must hold her in his arms all night.  And that he\ndid, with Akut braced upon one side of her and he upon the other, so\nthat she was warmed by the bodies of them both.\n\nShe did not sleep much until the night was half spent; but at last\nNature overcame her terrors of the black abyss beneath and the hairy\nbody of the wild beast at her side, and she fell into a deep slumber\nwhich outlasted the darkness.  When she opened her eyes the sun was\nwell up.  At first she could not believe in the reality of her\nposition.  Her head had rolled from Korak's shoulder so that her eyes\nwere directed upon the hairy back of the ape.  At sight of it she\nshrank away.  Then she realized that someone was holding her, and\nturning her head she saw the smiling eyes of the youth regarding her.\nWhen he smiled she could not fear him, and now she shrank closer\nagainst him in natural revulsion toward the rough coat of the brute\nupon her other side.\n\nKorak spoke to her in the language of the apes; but she shook her head,\nand spoke to him in the language of the Arab, which was as\nunintelligible to him as was ape speech to her.  Akut sat up and looked\nat them.  He could understand what Korak said but the girl made only\nfoolish noises that were entirely unintelligible and ridiculous.  Akut\ncould not understand what Korak saw in her to attract him.  He looked\nat her long and steadily, appraising her carefully, then he scratched\nhis head, rose and shook himself.\n\nHis movement gave the girl a little start--she had forgotten Akut for\nthe moment.  Again she shrank from him.  The beast saw that she feared\nhim, and being a brute enjoyed the evidence of the terror his\nbrutishness inspired.  Crouching, he extended his huge hand stealthily\ntoward her, as though to seize her.  She shrank still further away.\nAkut's eyes were busy drinking in the humor of the situation--he did\nnot see the narrowing eyes of the boy upon him, nor the shortening neck\nas the broad shoulders rose in a characteristic attitude of preparation\nfor attack.  As the ape's fingers were about to close upon the girl's\narm the youth rose suddenly with a short, vicious growl.  A clenched\nfist flew before Meriem's eyes to land full upon the snout of the\nastonished Akut.  With an explosive bellow the anthropoid reeled\nbackward and tumbled from the tree.\n\nKorak stood glaring down upon him when a sudden swish in the bushes\nclose by attracted his attention.  The girl too was looking down; but\nshe saw nothing but the angry ape scrambling to his feet.  Then, like a\nbolt from a cross bow, a mass of spotted, yellow fur shot into view\nstraight for Akut's back.  It was Sheeta, the leopard.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 10\n\n\nAs the leopard leaped for the great ape Meriem gasped in surprise and\nhorror--not for the impending fate of the anthropoid, but at the act of\nthe youth who but an instant before had angrily struck his strange\ncompanion; for scarce had the carnivore burst into view than with drawn\nknife the youth had leaped far out above him, so that as Sheeta was\nalmost in the act of sinking fangs and talons in Akut's broad back The\nKiller landed full upon the leopard's shoulders.\n\nThe cat halted in mid air, missed the ape by but a hair's breadth, and\nwith horrid snarlings rolled over upon its back, clutching and clawing\nin an effort to reach and dislodge the antagonist biting at its neck\nand knifing it in the side.\n\nAkut, startled by the sudden rush from his rear, and following hoary\ninstinct, was in the tree beside the girl with an agility little short\nof marvelous in so heavy a beast.  But the moment that he turned to see\nwhat was going on below him brought him as quickly to the ground again.\nPersonal differences were quickly forgotten in the danger which menaced\nhis human companion, nor was he a whit less eager to jeopardize his own\nsafety in the service of his friend than Korak had been to succor him.\n\nThe result was that Sheeta presently found two ferocious creatures\ntearing him to ribbons.  Shrieking, snarling and growling, the three\nrolled hither and thither among the underbrush, while with staring eyes\nthe sole spectator of the battle royal crouched trembling in the tree\nabove them hugging Geeka frantically to her breast.\n\nIt was the boy's knife which eventually decided the battle, and as the\nfierce feline shuddered convulsively and rolled over upon its side the\nyouth and the ape rose and faced one another across the prostrate\ncarcass.  Korak jerked his head in the direction of the little girl in\nthe tree.\n\n\"Leave her alone,\" he said; \"she is mine.\"\n\nAkut grunted, blinked his blood-shot eyes, and turned toward the body\nof Sheeta.  Standing erect upon it he threw out his great chest, raised\nhis face toward the heavens and gave voice to so horrid a scream that\nonce again the little girl shuddered and shrank.  It was the victory\ncry of the bull ape that has made a kill.  The boy only looked on for a\nmoment in silence; then he leaped into the tree again to the girl's\nside.  Akut presently rejoined them.  For a few minutes he busied\nhimself licking his wounds, then he wandered off to hunt his breakfast.\n\nFor many months the strange life of the three went on unmarked by any\nunusual occurrences.  At least without any occurrences that seemed\nunusual to the youth or the ape; but to the little girl it was a\nconstant nightmare of horrors for days and weeks, until she too became\naccustomed to gazing into the eyeless sockets of death and to the feel\nof the icy wind of his shroud-like mantle.  Slowly she learned the\nrudiments of the only common medium of thought exchange which her\ncompanions possessed--the language of the great apes.  More quickly she\nperfected herself in jungle craft, so that the time soon came when she\nwas an important factor in the chase, watching while the others slept,\nor helping them to trace the spoor of whatever prey they might be\nstalking.  Akut accepted her on a footing which bordered upon equality\nwhen it was necessary for them to come into close contact; but for the\nmost part he avoided her.  The youth always was kind to her, and if\nthere were many occasions upon which he felt the burden of her presence\nhe hid it from her.  Finding that the night damp and chill caused her\ndiscomfort and even suffering, Korak constructed a tight little shelter\nhigh among the swaying branches of a giant tree.  Here little Meriem\nslept in comparative warmth and safety, while The Killer and the ape\nperched upon near-by branches, the former always before the entrance to\nthe lofty domicile, where he best could guard its inmate from the\ndangers of arboreal enemies.  They were too high to feel much fear of\nSheeta; but there was always Histah, the snake, to strike terror to\none's soul, and the great baboons who lived near-by, and who, while\nnever attacking always bared their fangs and barked at any of the trio\nwhen they passed near them.\n\nAfter the construction of the shelter the activities of the three\nbecame localized.  They ranged less widely, for there was always the\nnecessity of returning to their own tree at nightfall.  A river flowed\nnear by.  Game and fruit were plentiful, as were fish also.  Existence\nhad settled down to the daily humdrum of the wild--the search for food\nand the sleeping upon full bellies.  They looked no further ahead than\ntoday.  If the youth thought of his past and of those who longed for\nhim in the distant metropolis it was in a detached and impersonal sort\nof way as though that other life belonged to another creature than\nhimself.  He had given up hope of returning to civilization, for since\nhis various rebuffs at the hands of those to whom he had looked for\nfriendship he had wandered so far inland as to realize that he was\ncompletely lost in the mazes of the jungle.\n\nThen, too, since the coming of Meriem he had found in her that one\nthing which he had most missed before in his savage, jungle life--human\ncompanionship.  In his friendship for her there was appreciable no\ntrace of sex influence of which he was cognizant.  They were\nfriends--companions--that was all.  Both might have been boys, except\nfor the half tender and always masterful manifestation of the\nprotective instinct which was apparent in Korak's attitude.\n\nThe little girl idolized him as she might have idolized an indulgent\nbrother had she had one.  Love was a thing unknown to either; but as\nthe youth neared manhood it was inevitable that it should come to him\nas it did to every other savage, jungle male.\n\nAs Meriem became proficient in their common language the pleasures of\ntheir companionship grew correspondingly, for now they could converse\nand aided by the mental powers of their human heritage they amplified\nthe restricted vocabulary of the apes until talking was transformed\nfrom a task into an enjoyable pastime.  When Korak hunted, Meriem\nusually accompanied him, for she had learned the fine art of silence,\nwhen silence was desirable.  She could pass through the branches of the\ngreat trees now with all the agility and stealth of The Killer himself.\nGreat heights no longer appalled her.  She swung from limb to limb, or\nshe raced through the mighty branches, surefooted, lithe, and fearless.\nKorak was very proud of her, and even old Akut grunted in approval\nwhere before he had growled in contempt.\n\nA distant village of blacks had furnished her with a mantle of fur and\nfeathers, with copper ornaments, and weapons, for Korak would not\npermit her to go unarmed, or unversed in the use of the weapons he\nstole for her.  A leather thong over one shoulder supported the ever\npresent Geeka who was still the recipient of her most sacred\nconfidences.  A light spear and a long knife were her weapons of\noffense or defense.  Her body, rounding into the fulness of an early\nmaturity, followed the lines of a Greek goddess; but there the\nsimilarity ceased, for her face was beautiful.\n\nAs she grew more accustomed to the jungle and the ways of its wild\ndenizens fear left her.  As time wore on she even hunted alone when\nKorak and Akut were prowling at a great distance, as they were\nsometimes forced to do when game was scarce in their immediate\nvicinity.  Upon these occasions she usually confined her endeavors to\nthe smaller animals though sometimes she brought down a deer, and once\neven Horta, the boar--a great tusker that even Sheeta might have\nthought twice before attacking.\n\nIn their stamping grounds in the jungle the three were familiar\nfigures.  The little monkeys knew them well, often coming close to\nchatter and frolic about them.  When Akut was by, the small folk kept\ntheir distance, but with Korak they were less shy and when both the\nmales were gone they would come close to Meriem, tugging at her\nornaments or playing with Geeka, who was a never ending source of\namusement to them.  The girl played with them and fed them, and when\nshe was alone they helped her to pass the long hours until Korak's\nreturn.\n\nNor were they worthless as friends.  In the hunt they helped her locate\nher quarry.  Often they would come racing through the trees to her side\nto announce the near presence of antelope or giraffe, or with excited\nwarnings of the proximity of Sheeta or Numa.  Luscious, sun-kissed\nfruits which hung far out upon the frail bough of the jungle's waving\ncrest were brought to her by these tiny, nimble allies.  Sometimes they\nplayed tricks upon her; but she was always kind and gentle with them\nand in their wild, half-human way they were kind to her and\naffectionate.  Their language being similar to that of the great apes\nMeriem could converse with them though the poverty of their vocabulary\nrendered these exchanges anything but feasts of reason.  For familiar\nobjects they had names, as well as for those conditions which induced\npain or pleasure, joy, sorrow, or rage.  These root words were so\nsimilar to those in use among the great anthropoids as to suggest that\nthe language of the Manus was the mother tongue.  At best it lent\nitself to but material and sordid exchange.  Dreams, aspirations, hopes,\nthe past, the future held no place in the conversation of Manu, the\nmonkey. All was of the present--particularly of filling his belly and\ncatching lice.\n\nPoor food was this to nourish the mental appetite of a girl just upon\nthe brink of womanhood.  And so, finding Manu only amusing as an\noccasional playfellow or pet, Meriem poured out her sweetest soul\nthoughts into the deaf ears of Geeka's ivory head.  To Geeka she spoke\nin Arabic, knowing that Geeka, being but a doll, could not understand\nthe language of Korak and Akut, and that the language of Korak and Akut\nbeing that of male apes contained nothing of interest to an Arab doll.\n\nGeeka had undergone a transformation since her little mother had left\nthe village of The Sheik.  Her garmenture now reflected in miniature\nthat of Meriem.  A tiny bit of leopard skin covered her ratskin torso\nfrom shoulder to splinter knee.  A band of braided grasses about her\nbrow held in place a few gaudy feathers from the parakeet, while other\nbits of grass were fashioned into imitations of arm and leg ornaments\nof metal.  Geeka was a perfect little savage; but at heart she was\nunchanged, being the same omnivorous listener as of yore.  An excellent\ntrait in Geeka was that she never interrupted in order to talk about\nherself.  Today was no exception.  She had been listening attentively\nto Meriem for an hour, propped against the bole of a tree while her\nlithe, young mistress stretched catlike and luxurious along a swaying\nbranch before her.\n\n\"Little Geeka,\" said Meriem, \"our Korak has been gone for a long time\ntoday.  We miss him, little Geeka, do we not?  It is dull and lonesome\nin the great jungle when our Korak is away.  What will he bring us this\ntime, eh?  Another shining band of metal for Meriem's ankle?  Or a\nsoft, doeskin loin cloth from the body of a black she?  He tells me\nthat it is harder to get the possessions of the shes, for he will not\nkill them as he does the males, and they fight savagely when he leaps\nupon them to wrest their ornaments from them.  Then come the males with\nspears and arrows and Korak takes to the trees.  Sometimes he takes the\nshe with him and high among the branches divests her of the things he\nwishes to bring home to Meriem.  He says that the blacks fear him now,\nand at first sight of him the women and children run shrieking to their\nhuts; but he follows them within, and it is not often that he returns\nwithout arrows for himself and a present for Meriem.  Korak is mighty\namong the jungle people--our Korak, Geeka--no, MY Korak!\"\n\nMeriem's conversation was interrupted by the sudden plunge of an\nexcited little monkey that landed upon her shoulders in a flying leap\nfrom a neighboring tree.\n\n\"Climb!\" he cried.  \"Climb!  The Mangani are coming.\"\n\nMeriem glanced lazily over her shoulder at the excited disturber of her\npeace.\n\n\"Climb, yourself, little Manu,\" she said.  \"The only Mangani in our\njungle are Korak and Akut.  It is they you have seen returning from the\nhunt.  Some day you will see your own shadow, little Manu, and then you\nwill be frightened to death.\"\n\nBut the monkey only screamed his warning more lustily before he raced\nupward toward the safety of the high terrace where Mangani, the great\nape, could not follow.  Presently Meriem heard the sound of approaching\nbodies swinging through the trees.  She listened attentively.  There\nwere two and they were great apes--Korak and Akut.  To her Korak was an\nape--a Mangani, for as such the three always described themselves.  Man\nwas an enemy, so they did not think of themselves as belonging any\nlonger to the same genus.  Tarmangani, or great white ape, which\ndescribed the white man in their language, did not fit them all.\nGomangani--great black ape, or Negro--described none of them so they\ncalled themselves plain Mangani.\n\nMeriem decided that she would feign slumber and play a joke on Korak.\nSo she lay very still with eyes tightly closed.  She heard the two\napproaching closer and closer.  They were in the adjoining tree now and\nmust have discovered her, for they had halted.  Why were they so quiet?\nWhy did not Korak call out his customary greeting?  The quietness was\nominous.  It was followed presently by a very stealthy sound--one of\nthem was creeping upon her.  Was Korak planning a joke upon his own\naccount?  Well, she would fool him.  Cautiously she opened her eyes the\ntiniest bit, and as she did so her heart stood still.  Creeping\nsilently toward her was a huge bull ape that she never before had seen.\nBehind him was another like him.\n\nWith the agility of a squirrel Meriem was upon her feet and at the same\ninstant the great bull lunged for her.  Leaping from limb to limb the\ngirl fled through the jungle while close behind her came the two great\napes.  Above them raced a bevy of screaming, chattering monkeys,\nhurling taunts and insults at the Mangani, and encouragement and advice\nto the girl.\n\nFrom tree to tree swung Meriem working ever upward toward the smaller\nbranches which would not bear the weight of her pursuers.  Faster and\nfaster came the bull apes after her.  The clutching fingers of the\nforemost were almost upon her again and again, but she eluded them by\nsudden bursts of speed or reckless chances as she threw herself across\ndizzy spaces.\n\nSlowly she was gaining her way to the greater heights where safety lay,\nwhen, after a particularly daring leap, the swaying branch she grasped\nbent low beneath her weight, nor whipped upward again as it should have\ndone.  Even before the rending sound which followed Meriem knew that\nshe had misjudged the strength of the limb.  It gave slowly at first.\nThen there was a ripping as it parted from the trunk.  Releasing her\nhold Meriem dropped among the foliage beneath, clutching for a new\nsupport.  She found it a dozen feet below the broken limb.  She had\nfallen thus many times before, so that she had no particular terror of\na fall--it was the delay which appalled her most, and rightly, for\nscarce had she scrambled to a place of safety than the body of the huge\nape dropped at her side and a great, hairy arm went about her waist.\n\nAlmost at once the other ape reached his companion's side.  He made a\nlunge at Meriem; but her captor swung her to one side, bared his\nfighting fangs and growled ominously.  Meriem struggled to escape.  She\nstruck at the hairy breast and bearded cheek.  She fastened her strong,\nwhite teeth in one shaggy forearm.  The ape cuffed her viciously across\nthe face, then he had to turn his attention to his fellow who quite\nevidently desired the prize for his own.\n\nThe captor could not fight to advantage upon the swaying bough,\nburdened as he was by a squirming, struggling captive, so he dropped\nquickly to the ground beneath.  The other followed him, and here they\nfought, occasionally abandoning their duel to pursue and recapture the\ngirl who took every advantage of her captors' preoccupation in battle\nto break away in attempted escape; but always they overtook her, and\nfirst one and then the other possessed her as they struggled to tear\none another to pieces for the prize.\n\nOften the girl came in for many blows that were intended for a hairy\nfoe, and once she was felled, lying unconscious while the apes,\nrelieved of the distraction of detaining her by force, tore into one\nanother in fierce and terrible combat.\n\nAbove them screamed the little monkeys, racing hither and thither in a\nfrenzy of hysterical excitement.  Back and forth over the battle field\nflew countless birds of gorgeous plumage, squawking their hoarse cries\nof rage and defiance.  In the distance a lion roared.\n\nThe larger bull was slowly tearing his antagonist to pieces.  They\nrolled upon the ground biting and striking.  Again, erect upon their\nhind legs they pulled and tugged like human wrestlers; but always the\ngiant fangs found their bloody part to play until both combatants and\nthe ground about them were red with gore.\n\nMeriem, through it all, lay still and unconscious upon the ground.  At\nlast one found a permanent hold upon the jugular of the other and thus\nthey went down for the last time.  For several minutes they lay with\nscarce a struggle.  It was the larger bull who arose alone from the\nlast embrace.  He shook himself.  A deep growl rumbled from his hairy\nthroat.  He waddled back and forth between the body of the girl and\nthat of his vanquished foe.  Then he stood upon the latter and gave\ntongue to his hideous challenge.  The little monkeys broke, screaming,\nin all directions as the terrifying noise broke upon their ears.  The\ngorgeous birds took wing and fled.  Once again the lion roared, this\ntime at a greater distance.\n\nThe great ape waddled once more to the girl's side.  He turned her over\nupon her back, and stooping commenced to sniff and listen about her\nface and breast.  She lived.  The monkeys were returning.  They came in\nswarms, and from above hurled down insults upon the victor.\n\nThe ape showed his displeasure by baring his teeth and growling up at\nthem.  Then he stooped and lifting the girl to his shoulder waddled off\nthrough the jungle.  In his wake followed the angry mob.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 11\n\n\nKorak, returning from the hunt, heard the jabbering of the excited\nmonkeys.  He knew that something was seriously amiss.  Histah, the\nsnake, had doubtless coiled his slimy folds about some careless Manu.\nThe youth hastened ahead.  The monkeys were Meriem's friends.  He would\nhelp them if he could.  He traveled rapidly along the middle terrace.\nIn the tree by Meriem's shelter he deposited his trophies of the hunt\nand called aloud to her.  There was no answer.  He dropped quickly to a\nlower level.  She might be hiding from him.\n\nUpon a great branch where Meriem often swung at indolent ease he saw\nGeeka propped against the tree's great bole.  What could it mean?\nMeriem had never left Geeka thus alone before.  Korak picked up the\ndoll and tucked it in his belt.  He called again, more loudly; but no\nMeriem answered his summons.  In the distance the jabbering of the\nexcited Manus was growing less distinct.\n\nCould their excitement be in any way connected with Meriem's\ndisappearance?  The bare thought was enough.  Without waiting for Akut\nwho was coming slowly along some distance in his rear, Korak swung\nrapidly in the direction of the chattering mob.  But a few minutes\nsufficed to overtake the rearmost.  At sight of him they fell to\nscreaming and pointing downward ahead of them, and a moment later Korak\ncame within sight of the cause of their rage.\n\nThe youth's heart stood still in terror as he saw the limp body of the\ngirl across the hairy shoulders of a great ape.  That she was dead he\ndid not doubt, and in that instant there arose within him a something\nwhich he did not try to interpret nor could have had he tried; but all\nat once the whole world seemed centered in that tender, graceful body,\nthat frail little body, hanging so pitifully limp and helpless across\nthe bulging shoulders of the brute.\n\nHe knew then that little Meriem was his world--his sun, his moon, his\nstars--with her going had gone all light and warmth and happiness.  A\ngroan escaped his lips, and after that a series of hideous roars, more\nbestial than the beasts', as he dropped plummet-like in mad descent\ntoward the perpetrator of this hideous crime.\n\nThe bull ape turned at the first note of this new and menacing voice,\nand as he turned a new flame was added to the rage and hatred of The\nKiller, for he saw that the creature before him was none other than the\nking ape which had driven him away from the great anthropoids to whom\nhe had looked for friendship and asylum.\n\nDropping the body of the girl to the ground the bull turned to battle\nanew for possession of his expensive prize; but this time he looked for\nan easy conquest.  He too recognized Korak.  Had he not chased him away\nfrom the amphitheater without even having to lay a fang or paw upon\nhim?  With lowered head and bulging shoulders he rushed headlong for\nthe smooth-skinned creature who was daring to question his right to his\nprey.\n\nThey met head on like two charging bulls, to go down together tearing\nand striking.  Korak forgot his knife.  Rage and bloodlust such as his\ncould be satisfied only by the feel of hot flesh between rending fangs,\nby the gush of new life blood against his bare skin, for, though he did\nnot realize it, Korak, The Killer, was fighting for something more\ncompelling than hate or revenge--he was a great male fighting another\nmale for a she of his own kind.\n\nSo impetuous was the attack of the man-ape that he found his hold\nbefore the anthropoid could prevent him--a savage hold, with strong\njaws closed upon a pulsing jugular, and there he clung, with closed\neyes, while his fingers sought another hold upon the shaggy throat.\n\nIt was then that Meriem opened her eyes.  At the sight before her they\nwent wide.\n\n\"Korak!\" she cried.  \"Korak!  My Korak!  I knew that you would come.\nKill him, Korak!  Kill him!\"  And with flashing eyes and heaving bosom\nthe girl, coming to her feet, ran to Korak's side to encourage him.\nNearby lay The Killer's spear, where he had flung it as he charged the\nape.  The girl saw it and snatched it up.  No faintness overcame her in\nthe face of this battle primeval at her feet.  For her there was no\nhysterical reaction from the nerve strain of her own personal encounter\nwith the bull.  She was excited; but cool and entirely unafraid.  Her\nKorak was battling with another Mangani that would have stolen her; but\nshe did not seek the safety of an overhanging bough there to watch the\nbattle from afar, as would a she Mangani.  Instead she placed the point\nof Korak's spear against the bull ape's side and plunged the sharp\npoint deep into the savage heart.  Korak had not needed her aid, for\nthe great bull had been already as good as dead, with the blood gushing\nfrom his torn jugular; but Korak rose smiling with a word of\napprobation for his helper.\n\nHow tall and fine she was!  Had she changed suddenly within the few\nhours of his absence, or had his battle with the ape affected his\nvision?  He might have been looking at Meriem through new eyes for the\nmany startling and wonderful surprises his gaze revealed.  How long it\nhad been since he had found her in her father's village, a little Arab\ngirl, he did not know, for time is of no import in the jungle and so he\nhad kept no track of the passing days.  But he realized, as he looked\nupon her now, that she was no longer such a little girl as he had first\nseen playing with Geeka beneath the great tree just within the\npalisade.  The change must have been very gradual to have eluded his\nnotice until now.  And what was it that had caused him to realize it so\nsuddenly?  His gaze wandered from the girl to the body of the dead\nbull.  For the first time there flashed to his understanding the\nexplanation of the reason for the girl's attempted abduction.  Korak's\neyes went wide and then they closed to narrow slits of rage as he stood\nglaring down upon the abysmal brute at his feet.  When next his glance\nrose to Meriem's face a slow flush suffused his own.  Now, indeed, was\nhe looking upon her through new eyes--the eyes of a man looking upon a\nmaid.\n\nAkut had come up just as Meriem had speared Korak's antagonist.  The\nexultation of the old ape was keen.  He strutted, stiff-legged and\ntruculent about the body of the fallen enemy.  He growled and upcurved\nhis long, flexible lip.  His hair bristled.  He was paying no attention\nto Meriem and Korak.  Back in the uttermost recesses of his little\nbrain something was stirring--something which the sight and smell of\nthe great bull had aroused.  The outward manifestation of the\ngerminating idea was one of bestial rage; but the inner sensations were\npleasurable in the extreme.  The scent of the great bull and the sight\nof his huge and hairy figure had wakened in the heart of Akut a longing\nfor the companionship of his own kind.  So Korak was not alone\nundergoing a change.\n\nAnd Meriem?  She was a woman.  It is woman's divine right to love.\nAlways she had loved Korak.  He was her big brother.  Meriem alone\nunderwent no change.  She was still happy in the companionship of her\nKorak.  She still loved him--as a sister loves an indulgent\nbrother--and she was very, very proud of him.  In all the jungle there\nwas no other creature so strong, so handsome, or so brave.\n\nKorak came close to her.  There was a new light in his eyes as she\nlooked up into them; but she did not understand it.  She did not\nrealize how close they were to maturity, nor aught of all the\ndifference in their lives the look in Korak's eyes might mean.\n\n\"Meriem,\" he whispered and his voice was husky as he laid a brown hand\nupon her bare shoulder.  \"Meriem!\"  Suddenly he crushed her to him.\nShe looked up into his face, laughing, and then he bent and kissed her\nfull upon the mouth.  Even then she did not understand.  She did not\nrecall ever having been kissed before.  It was very nice.  Meriem liked\nit.  She thought it was Korak's way of showing how glad he was that the\ngreat ape had not succeeded in running away with her.  She was glad\ntoo, so she put her arms about The Killer's neck and kissed him again\nand again.  Then, discovering the doll in his belt she transferred it\nto her own possession, kissing it as she had kissed Korak.\n\nKorak wanted her to say something.  He wanted to tell her how he loved\nher; but the emotion of his love choked him and the vocabulary of the\nMangani was limited.\n\nThere came a sudden interruption.  It was from Akut--a sudden, low\ngrowl, no louder than those he had been giving vent to the while he\npranced about the dead bull, nor half so loud in fact; but of a timbre\nthat bore straight to the perceptive faculties of the jungle beast\ningrained in Korak.  It was a warning.  Korak looked quickly up from\nthe glorious vision of the sweet face so close to his.  Now his other\nfaculties awoke.  His ears, his nostrils were on the alert.  Something\nwas coming!\n\nThe Killer moved to Akut's side.  Meriem was just behind them.  The\nthree stood like carved statues gazing into the leafy tangle of the\njungle.  The noise that had attracted their attention increased, and\npresently a great ape broke through the underbrush a few paces from\nwhere they stood.  The beast halted at sight of them.  He gave a\nwarning grunt back over his shoulder, and a moment later coming\ncautiously another bull appeared.  He was followed by others--both\nbulls and females with young, until two score hairy monsters stood\nglaring at the three.  It was the tribe of the dead king ape.  Akut was\nthe first to speak.  He pointed to the body of the dead bull.\n\n\"Korak, mighty fighter, has killed your king,\" he grunted.  \"There is\nnone greater in all the jungle than Korak, son of Tarzan.  Now Korak is\nking.  What bull is greater than Korak?\"  It was a challenge to any\nbull who might care to question Korak's right to the kingship.  The\napes jabbered and chattered and growled among themselves for a time.\nAt last a young bull came slowly forward rocking upon his short legs,\nbristling, growling, terrible.\n\nThe beast was enormous, and in the full prime of his strength.  He\nbelonged to that almost extinct species for which white men have long\nsought upon the information of the natives of the more inaccessible\njungles.  Even the natives seldom see these great, hairy, primordial\nmen.\n\nKorak advanced to meet the monster.  He, too, was growling.  In his\nmind a plan was revolving.  To close with this powerful, untired brute\nafter having just passed through a terrific battle with another of his\nkind would have been to tempt defeat.  He must find an easier way to\nvictory.  Crouching, he prepared to meet the charge which he knew would\nsoon come, nor did he have long to wait.  His antagonist paused only\nfor sufficient time to permit him to recount for the edification of the\naudience and the confounding of Korak a brief resume of his former\nvictories, of his prowess, and of what he was about to do to this puny\nTarmangani.  Then he charged.\n\nWith clutching fingers and wide opened jaws he came down upon the\nwaiting Korak with the speed of an express train.  Korak did not move\nuntil the great arms swung to embrace him, then he dropped low beneath\nthem, swung a terrific right to the side of the beast's jaw as he\nside-stepped his rushing body, and swinging quickly about stood ready\nover the fallen ape where he sprawled upon the ground.\n\nIt was a surprised anthropoid that attempted to scramble to its feet.\nFroth flecked its hideous lips.  Red were the little eyes.  Blood\ncurdling roars tumbled from the deep chest.  But it did not reach its\nfeet.  The Killer stood waiting above it, and the moment that the hairy\nchin came upon the proper level another blow that would have felled an\nox sent the ape over backward.\n\nAgain and again the beast struggled to arise, but each time the mighty\nTarmangani stood waiting with ready fist and pile driver blow to bowl\nhim over.  Weaker and weaker became the efforts of the bull.  Blood\nsmeared his face and breast.  A red stream trickled from nose and\nmouth.  The crowd that had cheered him on at first with savage yells,\nnow jeered him--their approbation was for the Tarmangani.\n\n\"Kagoda?\" inquired Korak, as he sent the bull down once more.\n\nAgain the stubborn bull essayed to scramble to his feet.  Again The\nKiller struck him a terrific blow.  Again he put the question,\nkagoda--have you had enough?\n\nFor a moment the bull lay motionless.  Then from between battered lips\ncame the single word: \"Kagoda!\"\n\n\"Then rise and go back among your people,\" said Korak.  \"I do not wish\nto be king among people who once drove me from them.  Keep your own\nways, and we will keep ours.  When we meet we may be friends, but we\nshall not live together.\"\n\nAn old bull came slowly toward The Killer.\n\n\"You have killed our king,\" he said.  \"You have defeated him who would\nhave been king.  You could have killed him had you wished.  What shall\nwe do for a king?\"\n\nKorak turned toward Akut.\n\n\"There is your king,\" he said.  But Akut did not want to be separated\nfrom Korak, although he was anxious enough to remain with his own kind.\nHe wanted Korak to remain, too.  He said as much.\n\nThe youth was thinking of Meriem--of what would be best and safest for\nher.  If Akut went away with the apes there would be but one to watch\nover and protect her.  On the other hand were they to join the tribe he\nwould never feel safe to leave Meriem behind when he went out to hunt,\nfor the passions of the ape-folk are not ever well controlled.  Even a\nfemale might develop an insane hatred for the slender white girl and\nkill her during Korak's absence.\n\n\"We will live near you,\" he said, at last.  \"When you change your\nhunting ground we will change ours, Meriem and I, and so remain near\nyou; but we shall not dwell among you.\"\n\nAkut raised objections to this plan.  He did not wish to be separated\nfrom Korak.  At first he refused to leave his human friend for the\ncompanionship of his own kind; but when he saw the last of the tribe\nwandering off into the jungle again and his glance rested upon the\nlithe figure of the dead king's young mate as she cast admiring glances\nat her lord's successor the call of blood would not be denied.  With a\nfarewell glance toward his beloved Korak he turned and followed the she\nape into the labyrinthine mazes of the wood.\n\n\nAfter Korak had left the village of the blacks following his last\nthieving expedition, the screams of his victim and those of the other\nwomen and children had brought the warriors in from the forest and the\nriver.  Great was the excitement and hot was the rage of the men when\nthey learned that the white devil had again entered their homes,\nfrightened their women and stolen arrows and ornaments and food.\n\nEven their superstitious fear of this weird creature who hunted with a\nhuge bull ape was overcome in their desire to wreak vengeance upon him\nand rid themselves for good and all of the menace of his presence in\nthe jungle.\n\nAnd so it was that a score of the fleetest and most doughty warriors of\nthe tribe set out in pursuit of Korak and Akut but a few minutes after\nthey had left the scene of The Killer's many depredations.\n\nThe youth and the ape had traveled slowly and with no precautions\nagainst a successful pursuit.  Nor was their attitude of careless\nindifference to the blacks at all remarkable.  So many similar raids\nhad gone unpunished that the two had come to look upon the Negroes with\ncontempt.  The return journey led them straight up wind.  The result\nbeing that the scent of their pursuers was borne away from them, so\nthey proceeded upon their way in total ignorance of the fact that\ntireless trackers but little less expert in the mysteries of woodcraft\nthan themselves were dogging their trail with savage insistence.\n\nThe little party of warriors was led by Kovudoo, the chief; a\nmiddle-aged savage of exceptional cunning and bravery.  It was he who\nfirst came within sight of the quarry which they had followed for hours\nby the mysterious methods of their almost uncanny powers of\nobservation, intuition, and even scent.\n\nKovudoo and his men came upon Korak, Akut and Meriem after the killing\nof the king ape, the noise of the combat having led them at last\nstraight to their quarry.  The sight of the slender white girl had\namazed the savage chief and held him gazing at the trio for a moment\nbefore ordering his warriors to rush out upon their prey.  In that\nmoment it was that the great apes came and again the blacks remained\nawestruck witnesses to the palaver, and the battle between Korak and\nthe young bull.\n\nBut now the apes had gone, and the white youth and the white maid stood\nalone in the jungle.  One of Kovudoo's men leaned close to the ear of\nhis chief.  \"Look!\" he whispered, and pointed to something that dangled\nat the girl's side.  \"When my brother and I were slaves in the village\nof The Sheik my brother made that thing for The Sheik's little\ndaughter--she played with it always and called it after my brother,\nwhose name is Geeka.  Just before we escaped some one came and struck\ndown The Sheik, stealing his daughter away.  If this is she The Sheik\nwill pay you well for her return.\"\n\nKorak's arm had again gone around the shoulders of Meriem.  Love raced\nhot through his young veins.  Civilization was but a half-remembered\nstate--London as remote as ancient Rome.  In all the world there were\nbut they two--Korak, The Killer, and Meriem, his mate.  Again he drew\nher close to him and covered her willing lips with his hot kisses.  And\nthen from behind him broke a hideous bedlam of savage war cries and a\nscore of shrieking blacks were upon them.\n\nKorak turned to give battle.  Meriem with her own light spear stood by\nhis side.  An avalanche of barbed missiles flew about them.  One\npierced Korak's shoulder, another his leg, and he went down.\n\nMeriem was unscathed for the blacks had intentionally spared her.  Now\nthey rushed forward to finish Korak and make good the girl's capture;\nbut as they came there came also from another point in the jungle the\ngreat Akut and at his heels the huge bulls of his new kingdom.\n\nSnarling and roaring they rushed upon the black warriors when they saw\nthe mischief they had already wrought.  Kovudoo, realizing the danger\nof coming to close quarters with these mighty ape-men, seized Meriem\nand called upon his warriors to retreat.  For a time the apes followed\nthem, and several of the blacks were badly mauled and one killed before\nthey succeeded in escaping.  Nor would they have gotten off thus easily\nhad Akut not been more concerned with the condition of the wounded\nKorak than with the fate of the girl upon whom he had always looked as\nmore or less of an interloper and an unquestioned burden.\n\nKorak lay bleeding and unconscious when Akut reached his side.  The\ngreat ape tore the heavy spears from his flesh, licked the wounds and\nthen carried his friend to the lofty shelter that Korak had constructed\nfor Meriem.  Further than this the brute could do nothing.  Nature must\naccomplish the rest unaided or Korak must die.\n\nHe did not die, however.  For days he lay helpless with fever, while\nAkut and the apes hunted close by that they might protect him from such\nbirds and beasts as might reach his lofty retreat.  Occasionally Akut\nbrought him juicy fruits which helped to slake his thirst and allay his\nfever, and little by little his powerful constitution overcame the\neffects of the spear thrusts.  The wounds healed and his strength\nreturned.  All during his rational moments as he had lain upon the soft\nfurs which lined Meriem's nest he had suffered more acutely from fears\nfor Meriem than from the pain of his own wounds.  For her he must live.\nFor her he must regain his strength that he might set out in search of\nher.  What had the blacks done to her?  Did she still live, or had they\nsacrificed her to their lust for torture and human flesh?  Korak almost\ntrembled with terror as the most hideous possibilities of the girl's\nfate suggested themselves to him out of his knowledge of the customs of\nKovudoo's tribe.\n\nThe days dragged their weary lengths along, but at last he had\nsufficiently regained his strength to crawl from the shelter and make\nhis way unaided to the ground.  Now he lived more upon raw meat, for\nwhich he was entirely dependent on Akut's skill and generosity.  With\nthe meat diet his strength returned more rapidly, and at last he felt\nthat he was fit to undertake the journey to the village of the blacks.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 12\n\n\nTwo tall, bearded white men moved cautiously through the jungle from\ntheir camp beside a wide river.  They were Carl Jenssen and Sven\nMalbihn, but little altered in appearance since the day, years before,\nthat they and their safari had been so badly frightened by Korak and\nAkut as the former sought haven with them.\n\nEvery year had they come into the jungle to trade with the natives, or\nto rob them; to hunt and trap; or to guide other white men in the land\nthey knew so well.  Always since their experience with The Sheik had\nthey operated at a safe distance from his territory.\n\nNow they were closer to his village than they had been for years, yet\nsafe enough from discovery owing to the uninhabited nature of the\nintervening jungle and the fear and enmity of Kovudoo's people for The\nSheik, who, in time past, had raided and all but exterminated the tribe.\n\nThis year they had come to trap live specimens for a European\nzoological garden, and today they were approaching a trap which they\nhad set in the hope of capturing a specimen of the large baboons that\nfrequented the neighborhood.  As they approached the trap they became\naware from the noises emanating from its vicinity that their efforts\nhad been crowned with success.  The barking and screaming of hundreds\nof baboons could mean naught else than that one or more of their number\nhad fallen a victim to the allurements of the bait.\n\nThe extreme caution of the two men was prompted by former experiences\nwith the intelligent and doglike creatures with which they had to deal.\nMore than one trapper has lost his life in battle with enraged baboons\nwho will hesitate to attack nothing upon one occasion, while upon\nanother a single gun shot will disperse hundreds of them.\n\nHeretofore the Swedes had always watched near-by their trap, for as a\nrule only the stronger bulls are thus caught, since in their greediness\nthey prevent the weaker from approaching the covered bait, and when\nonce within the ordinary rude trap woven on the spot of interlaced\nbranches they are able, with the aid of their friends upon the outside,\nto demolish their prison and escape.  But in this instance the trappers\nhad utilized a special steel cage which could withstand all the\nstrength and cunning of a baboon.  It was only necessary, therefore, to\ndrive away the herd which they knew were surrounding the prison and\nwait for their boys who were even now following them to the trap.\n\nAs they came within sight of the spot they found conditions precisely\nas they had expected.  A large male was battering frantically against\nthe steel wires of the cage that held him captive.  Upon the outside\nseveral hundred other baboons were tearing and tugging in his aid, and\nall were roaring and jabbering and barking at the top of their lungs.\n\nBut what neither the Swedes nor the baboons saw was the half-naked\nfigure of a youth hidden in the foliage of a nearby tree.  He had come\nupon the scene at almost the same instant as Jenssen and Malbihn, and\nwas watching the activities of the baboons with every mark of interest.\n\nKorak's relations with the baboons had never been over friendly.  A\nspecies of armed toleration had marked their occasional meetings.  The\nbaboons and Akut had walked stiff legged and growling past one another,\nwhile Korak had maintained a bared fang neutrality.  So now he was not\ngreatly disturbed by the predicament of their king.  Curiosity prompted\nhim to tarry a moment, and in that moment his quick eyes caught the\nunfamiliar coloration of the clothing of the two Swedes behind a bush\nnot far from him.  Now he was all alertness.  Who were these\ninterlopers?  What was their business in the jungle of the Mangani?\nKorak slunk noiselessly around them to a point where he might get their\nscent as well as a better view of them, and scarce had he done so when\nhe recognized them--they were the men who had fired upon him years\nbefore.  His eyes blazed.  He could feel the hairs upon his scalp\nstiffen at the roots.  He watched them with the intentness of a panther\nabout to spring upon its prey.\n\nHe saw them rise and, shouting, attempt to frighten away the baboons as\nthey approached the cage.  Then one of them raised his rifle and fired\ninto the midst of the surprised and angry herd.  For an instant Korak\nthought that the baboons were about to charge, but two more shots from\nthe rifles of the white men sent them scampering into the trees.  Then\nthe two Europeans advanced upon the cage.  Korak thought that they were\ngoing to kill the king.  He cared nothing for the king but he cared\nless for the two white men.  The king had never attempted to kill\nhim--the white men had.  The king was a denizen of his own beloved\njungle--the white men were aliens.  His loyalty therefore was to the\nbaboon against the human.  He could speak the language of the\nbaboon--it was identical to that of the great apes.  Across the\nclearing he saw the jabbering horde watching.\n\nRaising his voice he shouted to them.  The white men turned at the\nsound of this new factor behind them.  They thought it was another\nbaboon that had circled them; but though they searched the trees with\ntheir eyes they saw nothing of the now silent figure hidden by the\nfoliage.  Again Korak shouted.\n\n\"I am The Killer,\" he cried.  \"These men are my enemies and yours.  I\nwill help you free your king.  Run out upon the strangers when you see\nme do so, and together we will drive them away and free your king.\"\n\nAnd from the baboons came a great chorus:  \"We will do what you say,\nKorak.\"\n\nDropping from his tree Korak ran toward the two Swedes, and at the same\ninstant three hundred baboons followed his example.  At sight of the\nstrange apparition of the half-naked white warrior rushing upon them\nwith uplifted spear Jenssen and Malbihn raised their rifles and fired\nat Korak; but in the excitement both missed and a moment later the\nbaboons were upon them.  Now their only hope of safety lay in escape,\nand dodging here and there, fighting off the great beasts that leaped\nupon their backs, they ran into the jungle.  Even then they would have\ndied but for the coming of their men whom they met a couple of hundred\nyards from the cage.\n\nOnce the white men had turned in flight Korak gave them no further\nattention, turning instead to the imprisoned baboon.  The fastenings of\nthe door that had eluded the mental powers of the baboons, yielded\ntheir secret immediately to the human intelligence of The Killer, and a\nmoment later the king baboon stepped forth to liberty.  He wasted no\nbreath in thanks to Korak, nor did the young man expect thanks.  He\nknew that none of the baboons would ever forget his service, though as\na matter of fact he did not care if they did.  What he had done had\nbeen prompted by a desire to be revenged upon the two white men.  The\nbaboons could never be of service to him.  Now they were racing in the\ndirection of the battle that was being waged between their fellows and\nthe followers of the two Swedes, and as the din of battle subsided in\nthe distance, Korak turned and resumed his journey toward the village\nof Kovudoo.\n\nOn the way he came upon a herd of elephants standing in an open forest\nglade.  Here the trees were too far apart to permit Korak to travel\nthrough the branches--a trail he much preferred not only because of its\nfreedom from dense underbrush and the wider field of vision it gave him\nbut from pride in his arboreal ability.  It was exhilarating to swing\nfrom tree to tree; to test the prowess of his mighty muscles; to reap\nthe pleasurable fruits of his hard won agility.  Korak joyed in the\nthrills of the highflung upper terraces of the great forest, where,\nunhampered and unhindered, he might laugh down upon the great brutes\nwho must keep forever to the darkness and the gloom of the musty soil.\n\nBut here, in this open glade where Tantor flapped his giant ears and\nswayed his huge bulk from side to side, the ape-man must pass along the\nsurface of the ground--a pygmy amongst giants.  A great bull raised his\ntrunk to rattle a low warning as he sensed the coming of an intruder.\nHis weak eyes roved hither and thither but it was his keen scent and\nacute hearing which first located the ape-man.  The herd moved\nrestlessly, prepared for fight, for the old bull had caught the scent\nof man.\n\n\"Peace, Tantor,\" called The Killer.  \"It is I, Korak, Tarmangani.\"\n\nThe bull lowered his trunk and the herd resumed their interrupted\nmeditations.  Korak passed within a foot of the great bull.  A sinuous\ntrunk undulated toward him, touching his brown hide in a half caress.\nKorak slapped the great shoulder affectionately as he went by.  For\nyears he had been upon good terms with Tantor and his people.  Of all\nthe jungle folk he loved best the mighty pachyderm--the most peaceful\nand at the same time the most terrible of them all.  The gentle gazelle\nfeared him not, yet Numa, lord of the jungle, gave him a wide berth.\nAmong the younger bulls, the cows and the calves Korak wound his way.\nNow and then another trunk would run out to touch him, and once a\nplayful calf grasped his legs and upset him.\n\nThe afternoon was almost spent when Korak arrived at the village of\nKovudoo.  There were many natives lolling in shady spots beside the\nconical huts or beneath the branches of the several trees which had\nbeen left standing within the enclosure.  Warriors were in evidence\nupon hand.  It was not a good time for a lone enemy to prosecute a\nsearch through the village.  Korak determined to await the coming of\ndarkness.  He was a match for many warriors; but he could not, unaided,\novercome an entire tribe--not even for his beloved Meriem.  While he\nwaited among the branches and foliage of a near-by tree he searched the\nvillage constantly with his keen eyes, and twice he circled it,\nsniffing the vagrant breezes which puffed erratically from first one\npoint of the compass and then another.  Among the various stenches\npeculiar to a native village the ape-man's sensitive nostrils were\nfinally rewarded by cognizance of the delicate aroma which marked the\npresence of her he sought.  Meriem was there--in one of those huts!\nBut which one he could not know without closer investigation, and so he\nwaited, with the dogged patience of a beast of prey, until night had\nfallen.\n\nThe camp fires of the blacks dotted the gloom with little points of\nlight, casting their feeble rays in tiny circles of luminosity that\nbrought into glistening relief the naked bodies of those who lay or\nsquatted about them.  It was then that Korak slid silently from the\ntree that had hidden him and dropped lightly to the ground within the\nenclosure.\n\nKeeping well in the shadows of the huts he commenced a systematic\nsearch of the village--ears, eyes and nose constantly upon the alert\nfor the first intimation of the near presence of Meriem.  His progress\nmust of necessity be slow since not even the keen-eared curs of the\nsavages must guess the presence of a stranger within the gates.  How\nclose he came to a detection on several occasions The Killer well knew\nfrom the restless whining of several of them.\n\nIt was not until he reached the back of a hut at the head of the wide\nvillage street that Korak caught again, plainly, the scent of Meriem.\nWith nose close to the thatched wall Korak sniffed eagerly about the\nstructure--tense and palpitant as a hunting hound.  Toward the front\nand the door he made his way when once his nose had assured him that\nMeriem lay within; but as he rounded the side and came within view of\nthe entrance he saw a burly Negro armed with a long spear squatting at\nthe portal of the girl's prison.  The fellow's back was toward him, his\nfigure outlined against the glow of cooking fires further down the\nstreet.  He was alone.  The nearest of his fellows were beside a fire\nsixty or seventy feet beyond.  To enter the hut Korak must either\nsilence the sentry or pass him unnoticed.  The danger in the\naccomplishment of the former alternative lay in the practical certainty\nof alarming the warriors near by and bringing them and the balance of\nthe village down upon him.  To achieve the latter appeared practically\nimpossible.  To you or me it would have been impossible; but Korak, The\nKiller, was not as you or I.\n\nThere was a good twelve inches of space between the broad back of the\nblack and the frame of the doorway.  Could Korak pass through behind\nthe savage warrior without detection?  The light that fell upon the\nglistening ebony of the sentry's black skin fell also upon the light\nbrown of Korak's.  Should one of the many further down the street\nchance to look long in this direction they must surely note the tall,\nlight-colored, moving figure; but Korak depended upon their interest in\ntheir own gossip to hold their attention fast where it already lay, and\nupon the firelight near them to prevent them seeing too plainly at a\ndistance into the darkness at the village end where his work lay.\n\nFlattened against the side of the hut, yet not arousing a single\nwarning rustle from its dried thatching, The Killer came closer and\ncloser to the watcher.  Now he was at his shoulder.  Now he had wormed\nhis sinuous way behind him.  He could feel the heat of the naked body\nagainst his knees.  He could hear the man breathe.  He marveled that\nthe dull-witted creature had not long since been alarmed; but the\nfellow sat there as ignorant of the presence of another as though that\nother had not existed.\n\nKorak moved scarcely more than an inch at a time, then he would stand\nmotionless for a moment.  Thus was he worming his way behind the guard\nwhen the latter straightened up, opened his cavernous mouth in a wide\nyawn, and stretched his arms above his head.  Korak stood rigid as\nstone.  Another step and he would be within the hut.  The black lowered\nhis arms and relaxed.  Behind him was the frame work of the doorway.\nOften before had it supported his sleepy head, and now he leaned back\nto enjoy the forbidden pleasure of a cat nap.\n\nBut instead of the door frame his head and shoulders came in contact\nwith the warm flesh of a pair of living legs.  The exclamation of\nsurprise that almost burst from his lips was throttled in his throat by\nsteel-thewed fingers that closed about his windpipe with the suddenness\nof thought.  The black struggled to arise--to turn upon the creature\nthat had seized him--to wriggle from its hold; but all to no purpose.\nAs he had been held in a mighty vise of iron he could not move.  He\ncould not scream. Those awful fingers at his throat but closed more and\nmore tightly.  His eyes bulged from their sockets.  His face turned an\nashy blue.  Presently he relaxed once more--this time in the final\ndissolution from which there is no quickening.  Korak propped the dead\nbody against the door frame.  There it sat, lifelike in the gloom.\nThen the ape-man turned and glided into the Stygian darkness of the\nhut's interior.\n\n\"Meriem!\" he whispered.\n\n\"Korak!  My Korak!\" came an answering cry, subdued by fear of alarming\nher captors, and half stifled by a sob of joyful welcome.\n\nThe youth knelt and cut the bonds that held the girl's wrists and\nankles.  A moment later he had lifted her to her feet, and grasping her\nby the hand led her towards the entrance.  Outside the grim sentinel of\ndeath kept his grisly vigil.  Sniffing at his dead feet whined a mangy\nnative cur.  At sight of the two emerging from the hut the beast gave\nan ugly snarl and an instant later as it caught the scent of the\nstrange white man it raised a series of excited yelps.  Instantly the\nwarriors at the near-by fire were attracted.  They turned their heads\nin the direction of the commotion.  It was impossible that they should\nfail to see the white skins of the fugitives.\n\nKorak slunk quickly into the shadows at the hut's side, drawing Meriem\nwith him; but he was too late.  The blacks had seen enough to arouse\ntheir suspicions and a dozen of them were now running to investigate.\nThe yapping cur was still at Korak's heels leading the searchers\nunerringly in pursuit.  The youth struck viciously at the brute with\nhis long spear; but, long accustomed to dodging blows, the wily\ncreature made a most uncertain target.\n\nOther blacks had been alarmed by the running and shouting of their\ncompanions and now the entire population of the village was swarming up\nthe street to assist in the search.  Their first discovery was the dead\nbody of the sentry, and a moment later one of the bravest of them had\nentered the hut and discovered the absence of the prisoner.  These\nstartling announcements filled the blacks with a combination of terror\nand rage; but, seeing no foe in evidence they were enabled to permit\ntheir rage to get the better of their terror, and so the leaders,\npushed on by those behind them, ran rapidly around the hut in the\ndirection of the yapping of the mangy cur.  Here they found a single\nwhite warrior making away with their captive, and recognizing him as\nthe author of numerous raids and indignities and believing that they\nhad him cornered and at a disadvantage, they charged savagely upon him.\n\nKorak, seeing that they were discovered, lifted Meriem to his shoulders\nand ran for the tree which would give them egress from the village.  He\nwas handicapped in his flight by the weight of the girl whose legs\nwould but scarce bear her weight, to say nothing of maintaining her in\nrapid flight, for the tightly drawn bonds that had been about her\nankles for so long had stopped circulation and partially paralyzed her\nextremities.\n\nHad this not been the case the escape of the two would have been a feat\nof little moment, since Meriem was scarcely a whit less agile than\nKorak, and fully as much at home in the trees as he.  But with the girl\non his shoulder Korak could not both run and fight to advantage, and\nthe result was that before he had covered half the distance to the tree\na score of native curs attracted by the yelping of their mate and the\nyells and shouts of their masters had closed in upon the fleeing white\nman, snapping at his legs and at last succeeding in tripping him.  As\nhe went down the hyena-like brutes were upon him, and as he struggled\nto his feet the blacks closed in.\n\nA couple of them seized the clawing, biting Meriem, and subdued her--a\nblow upon the head was sufficient.  For the ape-man they found more\ndrastic measures would be necessary.\n\nWeighted down as he was by dogs and warriors he still managed to\nstruggle to his feet.  To right and left he swung crushing blows to the\nfaces of his human antagonists--to the dogs he paid not the slightest\nattention other than to seize the more persistent and wring their necks\nwith a single quick movement of the wrist.\n\nA knob stick aimed at him by an ebon Hercules he caught and wrested\nfrom his antagonist, and then the blacks experienced to the full the\npossibilities for punishment that lay within those smooth flowing\nmuscles beneath the velvet brown skin of the strange, white giant.  He\nrushed among them with all the force and ferocity of a bull elephant\ngone mad.  Hither and thither he charged striking down the few who had\nthe temerity to stand against him, and it was evident that unless a\nchance spear thrust brought him down he would rout the entire village\nand regain his prize.  But old Kovudoo was not to be so easily robbed\nof the ransom which the girl represented, and seeing that their attack\nwhich had up to now resulted in a series of individual combats with the\nwhite warrior, he called his tribesmen off, and forming them in a\ncompact body about the girl and the two who watched over her bid them\ndo nothing more than repel the assaults of the ape-man.\n\nAgain and again Korak rushed against this human barricade bristling\nwith spear points.  Again and again he was repulsed, often with severe\nwounds to caution him to greater wariness.  From head to foot he was\nred with his own blood, and at last, weakening from the loss of it, he\ncame to the bitter realization that alone he could do no more to succor\nhis Meriem.\n\nPresently an idea flashed through his brain.  He called aloud to the\ngirl.  She had regained consciousness now and replied.\n\n\"Korak goes,\" he shouted; \"but he will return and take you from the\nGomangani.  Good-bye, my Meriem.  Korak will come for you again.\"\n\n\"Good-bye!\" cried the girl.  \"Meriem will look for you until you come.\"\n\nLike a flash, and before they could know his intention or prevent him,\nKorak wheeled, raced across the village and with a single leap\ndisappeared into the foliage of the great tree that was his highroad to\nthe village of Kovudoo.  A shower of spears followed him, but their\nonly harvest was a taunting laugh flung back from out the darkness of\nthe jungle.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 13\n\n\nMeriem, again bound and under heavy guard in Kovudoo's own hut, saw the\nnight pass and the new day come without bringing the momentarily looked\nfor return of Korak.  She had no doubt but that he would come back and\nless still that he would easily free her from her captivity.  To her\nKorak was little short of omnipotent.  He embodied for her all that was\nfinest and strongest and best in her savage world.  She gloried in his\nprowess and worshipped him for the tender thoughtfulness that always\nhad marked his treatment of her.  No other within the ken of her memory\nhad ever accorded her the love and gentleness that was his daily\noffering to her.  Most of the gentler attributes of his early childhood\nhad long since been forgotten in the fierce battle for existence which\nthe customs of the mysterious jungle had forced upon him.  He was more\noften savage and bloodthirsty than tender and kindly.  His other\nfriends of the wild looked for no gentle tokens of his affection.  That\nhe would hunt with them and fight for them was sufficient.  If he\ngrowled and showed his fighting fangs when they trespassed upon his\ninalienable rights to the fruits of his kills they felt no anger toward\nhim--only greater respect for the efficient and the fit--for him who\ncould not only kill but protect the flesh of his kill.\n\nBut toward Meriem he always had shown more of his human side.  He\nkilled primarily for her.  It was to the feet of Meriem that he brought\nthe fruits of his labors.  It was for Meriem more than for himself that\nhe squatted beside his flesh and growled ominously at whosoever dared\nsniff too closely to it.  When he was cold in the dark days of rain, or\nthirsty in a prolonged drouth, his discomfort engendered first of all\nthoughts of Meriem's welfare--after she had been made warm, after her\nthirst had been slaked, then he turned to the affair of ministering to\nhis own wants.\n\nThe softest skins fell gracefully from the graceful shoulders of his\nMeriem.  The sweetest-scented grasses lined her bower where other soft,\nfurry pelts made hers the downiest couch in all the jungle.\n\nWhat wonder then that Meriem loved her Korak?  But she loved him as a\nlittle sister might love a big brother who was very good to her.  As\nyet she knew naught of the love of a maid for a man.\n\nSo now as she lay waiting for him she dreamed of him and of all that he\nmeant to her.  She compared him with The Sheik, her father, and at\nthought of the stern, grizzled, old Arab she shuddered.  Even the\nsavage blacks had been less harsh to her than he.  Not understanding\ntheir tongue she could not guess what purpose they had in keeping her a\nprisoner.  She knew that man ate man, and she had expected to be eaten;\nbut she had been with them for some time now and no harm had befallen\nher.  She did not know that a runner had been dispatched to the distant\nvillage of The Sheik to barter with him for a ransom.  She did not\nknow, nor did Kovudoo, that the runner had never reached his\ndestination--that he had fallen in with the safari of Jenssen and\nMalbihn and with the talkativeness of a native to other natives had\nunfolded his whole mission to the black servants of the two Swedes.\nThese had not been long in retailing the matter to their masters, and\nthe result was that when the runner left their camp to continue his\njourney he had scarce passed from sight before there came the report of\na rifle and he rolled lifeless into the underbrush with a bullet in his\nback.\n\nA few moments later Malbihn strolled back into the encampment, where he\nwent to some pains to let it be known that he had had a shot at a fine\nbuck and missed.  The Swedes knew that their men hated them, and that\nan overt act against Kovudoo would quickly be carried to the chief at\nthe first opportunity.  Nor were they sufficiently strong in either\nguns or loyal followers to risk antagonizing the wily old chief.\n\nFollowing this episode came the encounter with the baboons and the\nstrange, white savage who had allied himself with the beasts against\nthe humans.  Only by dint of masterful maneuvering and the expenditure\nof much power had the Swedes been able to repulse the infuriated apes,\nand even for hours afterward their camp was constantly besieged by\nhundreds of snarling, screaming devils.\n\nThe Swedes, rifles in hand, repelled numerous savage charges which\nlacked only efficient leadership to have rendered them as effective in\nresults as they were terrifying in appearance.  Time and time again the\ntwo men thought they saw the smooth-skinned body of the wild ape-man\nmoving among the baboons in the forest, and the belief that he might\nhead a charge upon them proved most disquieting.  They would have given\nmuch for a clean shot at him, for to him they attributed the loss of\ntheir specimen and the ugly attitude of the baboons toward them.\n\n\"The fellow must be the same we fired on several years ago,\" said\nMalbihn.  \"That time he was accompanied by a gorilla.  Did you get a\ngood look at him, Carl?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Jenssen.  \"He was not five paces from me when I fired at\nhim.  He appears to be an intelligent looking European--and not much\nmore than a lad.  There is nothing of the imbecile or degenerate in his\nfeatures or expression, as is usually true in similar cases, where some\nlunatic escapes into the woods and by living in filth and nakedness\nwins the title of wild man among the peasants of the neighborhood.  No,\nthis fellow is of different stuff--and so infinitely more to be feared.\nAs much as I should like a shot at him I hope he stays away.  Should he\never deliberately lead a charge against us I wouldn't give much for our\nchances if we happened to fail to bag him at the first rush.\"\n\nBut the white giant did not appear again to lead the baboons against\nthem, and finally the angry brutes themselves wandered off into the\njungle leaving the frightened safari in peace.\n\nThe next day the Swedes set out for Kovudoo's village bent on securing\npossession of the person of the white girl whom Kovudoo's runner had\ntold them lay captive in the chief's village.  How they were to\naccomplish their end they did not know.  Force was out of the question,\nthough they would not have hesitated to use it had they possessed it.\nIn former years they had marched rough shod over enormous areas, taking\ntoll by brute force even when kindliness or diplomacy would have\naccomplished more; but now they were in bad straits--so bad that they\nhad shown their true colors scarce twice in a year and then only when\nthey came upon an isolated village, weak in numbers and poor in courage.\n\nKovudoo was not as these, and though his village was in a way remote\nfrom the more populous district to the north his power was such that he\nmaintained an acknowledged suzerainty over the thin thread of villages\nwhich connected him with the savage lords to the north.  To have\nantagonized him would have spelled ruin for the Swedes.  It would have\nmeant that they might never reach civilization by the northern route.\nTo the west, the village of The Sheik lay directly in their path,\nbarring them effectually.  To the east the trail was unknown to them,\nand to the south there was no trail.  So the two Swedes approached the\nvillage of Kovudoo with friendly words upon their tongues and deep\ncraft in their hearts.\n\nTheir plans were well made.  There was no mention of the white\nprisoner--they chose to pretend that they were not aware that Kovudoo\nhad a white prisoner.  They exchanged gifts with the old chief,\nhaggling with his plenipotentiaries over the value of what they were to\nreceive for what they gave, as is customary and proper when one has no\nulterior motives.  Unwarranted generosity would have aroused suspicion.\n\nDuring the palaver which followed they retailed the gossip of the\nvillages through which they had passed, receiving in exchange such news\nas Kovudoo possessed.  The palaver was long and tiresome, as these\nnative ceremonies always are to Europeans.  Kovudoo made no mention of\nhis prisoner and from his generous offers of guides and presents seemed\nanxious to assure himself of the speedy departure of his guests.  It\nwas Malbihn who, quite casually, near the close of their talk,\nmentioned the fact that The Sheik was dead.  Kovudoo evinced interest\nand surprise.\n\n\"You did not know it?\" asked Malbihn.  \"That is strange.  It was during\nthe last moon.  He fell from his horse when the beast stepped in a\nhole.  The horse fell upon him.  When his men came up The Sheik was\nquite dead.\"\n\nKovudoo scratched his head.  He was much disappointed.  No Sheik meant\nno ransom for the white girl.  Now she was worthless, unless he\nutilized her for a feast or--a mate.  The latter thought aroused him.\nHe spat at a small beetle crawling through the dust before him.  He\neyed Malbihn appraisingly.  These white men were peculiar.  They\ntraveled far from their own villages without women.  Yet he knew they\ncared for women.  But how much did they care for them?--that was the\nquestion that disturbed Kovudoo.\n\n\"I know where there is a white girl,\" he said, unexpectedly.  \"If you\nwish to buy her she may be had cheap.\"\n\nMalbihn shrugged.  \"We have troubles enough, Kovudoo,\" he said,\n\"without burdening ourselves with an old she-hyena, and as for paying\nfor one--\"  Malbihn snapped his fingers in derision.\n\n\"She is young,\" said Kovudoo, \"and good looking.\"\n\nThe Swedes laughed.  \"There are no good looking white women in the\njungle, Kovudoo,\" said Jenssen.  \"You should be ashamed to try to make\nfun of old friends.\"\n\nKovudoo sprang to his feet.  \"Come,\" he said, \"I will show you that she\nis all I say.\"\n\nMalbihn and Jenssen rose to follow him and as they did so their eyes\nmet, and Malbihn slowly drooped one of his lids in a sly wink.\nTogether they followed Kovudoo toward his hut.  In the dim interior\nthey discerned the figure of a woman lying bound upon a sleeping mat.\n\nMalbihn took a single glance and turned away.  \"She must be a thousand\nyears old, Kovudoo,\" he said, as he left the hut.\n\n\"She is young,\" cried the savage.  \"It is dark in here.  You cannot\nsee.  Wait, I will have her brought out into the sunlight,\" and he\ncommanded the two warriors who watched the girl to cut the bonds from\nher ankles and lead her forth for inspection.\n\nMalbihn and Jenssen evinced no eagerness, though both were fairly\nbursting with it--not to see the girl but to obtain possession of her.\nThey cared not if she had the face of a marmoset, or the figure of\npot-bellied Kovudoo himself.  All that they wished to know was that she\nwas the girl who had been stolen from The Sheik several years before.\nThey thought that they would recognize her for such if she was indeed\nthe same, but even so the testimony of the runner Kovudoo had sent to\nThe Sheik was such as to assure them that the girl was the one they had\nonce before attempted to abduct.\n\nAs Meriem was brought forth from the darkness of the hut's interior the\ntwo men turned with every appearance of disinterestedness to glance at\nher.  It was with difficulty that Malbihn suppressed an ejaculation of\nastonishment.  The girl's beauty fairly took his breath from him; but\ninstantly he recovered his poise and turned to Kovudoo.\n\n\"Well?\" he said to the old chief.\n\n\"Is she not both young and good looking?\" asked Kovudoo.\n\n\"She is not old,\" replied Malbihn; \"but even so she will be a burden.\nWe did not come from the north after wives--there are more than enough\nthere for us.\"\n\nMeriem stood looking straight at the white men.  She expected nothing\nfrom them--they were to her as much enemies as the black men.  She\nhated and feared them all.  Malbihn spoke to her in Arabic.\n\n\"We are friends,\" he said.  \"Would you like to have us take you away\nfrom here?\"\n\nSlowly and dimly as though from a great distance recollection of the\nonce familiar tongue returned to her.\n\n\"I should like to go free,\" she said, \"and go back to Korak.\"\n\n\"You would like to go with us?\" persisted Malbihn.\n\n\"No,\" said Meriem.\n\nMalbihn turned to Kovudoo.  \"She does not wish to go with us,\" he said.\n\n\"You are men,\" returned the black.  \"Can you not take her by force?\"\n\n\"It would only add to our troubles,\" replied the Swede.  \"No, Kovudoo,\nwe do not wish her; though, if you wish to be rid of her, we will take\nher away because of our friendship for you.\"\n\nNow Kovudoo knew that he had made a sale.  They wanted her.  So he\ncommenced to bargain, and in the end the person of Meriem passed from\nthe possession of the black chieftain into that of the two Swedes in\nconsideration of six yards of Amerikan, three empty brass cartridge\nshells and a shiny, new jack knife from New Jersey.  And all but Meriem\nwere more than pleased with the bargain.\n\nKovudoo stipulated but a single condition and that was that the\nEuropeans were to leave his village and take the girl with them as\nearly the next morning as they could get started.  After the sale was\nconsummated he did not hesitate to explain his reasons for this demand.\nHe told them of the strenuous attempt of the girl's savage mate to\nrescue her, and suggested that the sooner they got her out of the\ncountry the more likely they were to retain possession of her.\n\nMeriem was again bound and placed under guard, but this time in the\ntent of the Swedes.  Malbihn talked to her, trying to persuade her to\naccompany them willingly.  He told her that they would return her to\nher own village; but when he discovered that she would rather die than\ngo back to the old sheik, he assured her that they would not take her\nthere, nor, as a matter of fact, had they had an intention of so doing.\nAs he talked with the girl the Swede feasted his eyes upon the\nbeautiful lines of her face and figure.  She had grown tall and\nstraight and slender toward maturity since he had seen her in The\nSheik's village on that long gone day.  For years she had represented\nto him a certain fabulous reward.  In his thoughts she had been but the\npersonification of the pleasures and luxuries that many francs would\npurchase.  Now as she stood before him pulsing with life and loveliness\nshe suggested other seductive and alluring possibilities.  He came\ncloser to her and laid his hand upon her.  The girl shrank from him.\nHe seized her and she struck him heavily in the mouth as he sought to\nkiss her.  Then Jenssen entered the tent.\n\n\"Malbihn!\" he almost shouted.  \"You fool!\"\n\nSven Malbihn released his hold upon the girl and turned toward his\ncompanion.  His face was red with mortification.\n\n\"What the devil are you trying to do?\" growled Jenssen.  \"Would you\nthrow away every chance for the reward?  If we maltreat her we not only\ncouldn't collect a sou, but they'd send us to prison for our pains.  I\nthought you had more sense, Malbihn.\"\n\n\"I'm not a wooden man,\" growled Malbihn.\n\n\"You'd better be,\" rejoined Jenssen, \"at least until we have delivered\nher over in safety and collected what will be coming to us.\"\n\n\"Oh, hell,\" cried Malbihn.  \"What's the use?  They'll be glad enough to\nhave her back, and by the time we get there with her she'll be only too\nglad to keep her mouth shut.  Why not?\"\n\n\"Because I say not,\" growled Jenssen.  \"I've always let you boss\nthings, Sven; but here's a case where what I say has got to go--because\nI'm right and you're wrong, and we both know it.\"\n\n\"You're getting damned virtuous all of a sudden,\" growled Malbihn.\n\"Perhaps you think I have forgotten about the inn keeper's daughter,\nand little Celella, and that nigger at--\"\n\n\"Shut up!\" snapped Jenssen.  \"It's not a matter of virtue and you are\nas well aware of that as I.  I don't want to quarrel with you, but so\nhelp me God, Sven, you're not going to harm this girl if I have to kill\nyou to prevent it.  I've suffered and slaved and been nearly killed\nforty times in the last nine or ten years trying to accomplish what\nluck has thrown at our feet at last, and now I'm not going to be robbed\nof the fruits of success because you happen to be more of a beast than\na man.  Again I warn you, Sven--\" and he tapped the revolver that swung\nin its holster at his hip.\n\nMalbihn gave his friend an ugly look, shrugged his shoulders, and left\nthe tent.  Jenssen turned to Meriem.\n\n\"If he bothers you again, call me,\" he said.  \"I shall always be near.\"\n\nThe girl had not understood the conversation that had been carried on\nby her two owners, for it had been in Swedish; but what Jenssen had\njust said to her in Arabic she understood and from it grasped an\nexcellent idea of what had passed between the two.  The expressions\nupon their faces, their gestures, and Jenssen's final tapping of his\nrevolver before Malbihn had left the tent had all been eloquent of the\nseriousness of their altercation.  Now, toward Jenssen she looked for\nfriendship, and with the innocence of youth she threw herself upon his\nmercy, begging him to set her free, that she might return to Korak and\nher jungle life; but she was doomed to another disappointment, for the\nman only laughed at her roughly and told her that if she tried to\nescape she would be punished by the very thing that he had just saved\nher from.\n\nAll that night she lay listening for a signal from Korak.  All about\nthe jungle life moved through the darkness.  To her sensitive ears came\nsounds that the others in the camp could not hear--sounds that she\ninterpreted as we might interpret the speech of a friend, but not once\ncame a single note that reflected the presence of Korak.  But she knew\nthat he would come.  Nothing short of death itself could prevent her\nKorak from returning for her.  What delayed him though?\n\nWhen morning came again and the night had brought no succoring Korak,\nMeriem's faith and loyalty were still unshaken though misgivings began\nto assail her as to the safety of her friend.  It seemed unbelievable\nthat serious mishap could have overtaken her wonderful Korak who daily\npassed unscathed through all the terrors of the jungle.  Yet morning\ncame, the morning meal was eaten, the camp broken and the disreputable\nsafari of the Swedes was on the move northward with still no sign of\nthe rescue the girl momentarily expected.\n\nAll that day they marched, and the next and the next, nor did Korak\neven so much as show himself to the patient little waiter moving,\nsilently and stately, beside her hard captors.\n\nMalbihn remained scowling and angry.  He replied to Jenssen's friendly\nadvances in curt monosyllables.  To Meriem he did not speak, but on\nseveral occasions she discovered him glaring at her from beneath half\nclosed lids--greedily.  The look sent a shudder through her.  She\nhugged Geeka closer to her breast and doubly regretted the knife that\nthey had taken from her when she was captured by Kovudoo.\n\nIt was on the fourth day that Meriem began definitely to give up hope.\nSomething had happened to Korak.  She knew it.  He would never come\nnow, and these men would take her far away.  Presently they would kill\nher.  She would never see her Korak again.\n\nOn this day the Swedes rested, for they had marched rapidly and their\nmen were tired.  Malbihn and Jenssen had gone from camp to hunt, taking\ndifferent directions.  They had been gone about an hour when the door\nof Meriem's tent was lifted and Malbihn entered.  The look of a beast\nwas on his face.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 14\n\n\nWith wide eyes fixed upon him, like a trapped creature horrified\nbeneath the mesmeric gaze of a great serpent, the girl watched the\napproach of the man.  Her hands were free, the Swedes having secured\nher with a length of ancient slave chain fastened at one end to an iron\ncollar padlocked about her neck and at the other to a long stake driven\ndeep into the ground.\n\nSlowly Meriem shrank inch by inch toward the opposite end of the tent.\nMalbihn followed her.  His hands were extended and his fingers\nhalf-opened--claw-like--to seize her.  His lips were parted, and his\nbreath came quickly, pantingly.\n\nThe girl recalled Jenssen's instructions to call him should Malbihn\nmolest her; but Jenssen had gone into the jungle to hunt.  Malbihn had\nchosen his time well.  Yet she screamed, loud and shrill, once, twice,\na third time, before Malbihn could leap across the tent and throttle\nher alarming cries with his brute fingers.  Then she fought him, as any\njungle she might fight, with tooth and nail.  The man found her no easy\nprey.  In that slender, young body, beneath the rounded curves and the\nfine, soft skin, lay the muscles of a young lioness.  But Malbihn was\nno weakling.  His character and appearance were brutal, nor did they\nbelie his brawn.  He was of giant stature and of giant strength.\nSlowly he forced the girl back upon the ground, striking her in the\nface when she hurt him badly either with teeth or nails.  Meriem struck\nback, but she was growing weaker from the choking fingers at her throat.\n\nOut in the jungle Jenssen had brought down two bucks.  His hunting had\nnot carried him far afield, nor was he prone to permit it to do so.  He\nwas suspicious of Malbihn.  The very fact that his companion had\nrefused to accompany him and elected instead to hunt alone in another\ndirection would not, under ordinary circumstances, have seemed fraught\nwith sinister suggestion; but Jenssen knew Malbihn well, and so, having\nsecured meat, he turned immediately back toward camp, while his boys\nbrought in his kill.\n\nHe had covered about half the return journey when a scream came faintly\nto his ears from the direction of camp.  He halted to listen.  It was\nrepeated twice.  Then silence.  With a muttered curse Jenssen broke\ninto a rapid run.  He wondered if he would be too late.  What a fool\nMalbihn was indeed to thus chance jeopardizing a fortune!\n\nFurther away from camp than Jenssen and upon the opposite side another\nheard Meriem's screams--a stranger who was not even aware of the\nproximity of white men other than himself--a hunter with a handful of\nsleek, black warriors.  He, too, listened intently for a moment.  That\nthe voice was that of a woman in distress he could not doubt, and so he\nalso hastened at a run in the direction of the affrighted voice; but he\nwas much further away than Jenssen so that the latter reached the tent\nfirst.  What the Swede found there roused no pity within his calloused\nheart, only anger against his fellow scoundrel.  Meriem was still\nfighting off her attacker.  Malbihn still was showering blows upon her.\nJenssen, streaming foul curses upon his erstwhile friend, burst into\nthe tent.  Malbihn, interrupted, dropped his victim and turned to meet\nJenssen's infuriated charge.  He whipped a revolver from his hip.\nJenssen, anticipating the lightning move of the other's hand, drew\nalmost simultaneously, and both men fired at once.  Jenssen was still\nmoving toward Malbihn at the time, but at the flash of the explosion he\nstopped.  His revolver dropped from nerveless fingers.  For a moment he\nstaggered drunkenly.  Deliberately Malbihn put two more bullets into\nhis friend's body at close range.  Even in the midst of the excitement\nand her terror Meriem found herself wondering at the tenacity of life\nwhich the hit man displayed.  His eyes were closed, his head dropped\nforward upon his breast, his hands hung limply before him.  Yet still\nhe stood there upon his feet, though he reeled horribly.  It was not\nuntil the third bullet had found its mark within his body that he\nlunged forward upon his face.  Then Malbihn approached him, and with an\noath kicked him viciously.  Then he returned once more to Meriem.\nAgain he seized her, and at the same instant the flaps of the tent\nopened silently and a tall white man stood in the aperture.  Neither\nMeriem or Malbihn saw the newcomer.  The latter's back was toward him\nwhile his body hid the stranger from Meriem's eyes.\n\nHe crossed the tent quickly, stepping over Jenssen's body.  The first\nintimation Malbihn had that he was not to carry out his design without\nfurther interruption was a heavy hand upon his shoulder.  He wheeled to\nface an utter stranger--a tall, black-haired, gray-eyed stranger clad\nin khaki and pith helmet.  Malbihn reached for his gun again, but\nanother hand had been quicker than his and he saw the weapon tossed to\nthe ground at the side of the tent--out of reach.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this?\" the stranger addressed his question to\nMeriem in a tongue she did not understand.  She shook her head and\nspoke in Arabic.  Instantly the man changed his question to that\nlanguage.\n\n\"These men are taking me away from Korak,\" explained the girl.  \"This\none would have harmed me.  The other, whom he had just killed, tried to\nstop him.  They were both very bad men; but this one is the worse.  If\nmy Korak were here he would kill him.  I suppose you are like them, so\nyou will not kill him.\"\n\nThe stranger smiled.  \"He deserves killing,\" he said.  \"There is no\ndoubt of that.  Once I should have killed him; but not now.  I will\nsee, though, that he does not bother you any more.\"\n\nHe was holding Malbihn in a grasp the giant Swede could not break,\nthough he struggled to do so, and he was holding him as easily as\nMalbihn might have held a little child, yet Malbihn was a huge man,\nmightily thewed.  The Swede began to rage and curse.  He struck at his\ncaptor, only to be twisted about and held at arm's length.  Then he\nshouted to his boys to come and kill the stranger.  In response a dozen\nstrange blacks entered the tent.  They, too, were powerful,\nclean-limbed men, not at all like the mangy crew that followed the\nSwedes.\n\n\"We have had enough foolishness,\" said the stranger to Malbihn.  \"You\ndeserve death, but I am not the law.  I know now who you are.  I have\nheard of you before.  You and your friend here bear a most unsavory\nreputation.  We do not want you in our country.  I shall let you go\nthis time; but should you ever return I shall take the law into my own\nhands.  You understand?\"\n\nMalbihn blustered and threatened, finishing by applying a most\nuncomplimentary name to his captor.  For this he received a shaking\nthat rattled his teeth.  Those who know say that the most painful\npunishment that can be inflicted upon an adult male, short of injuring\nhim, is a good, old fashioned shaking.  Malbihn received such a shaking.\n\n\"Now get out,\" said the stranger, \"and next time you see me remember\nwho I am,\" and he spoke a name in the Swede's ear--a name that more\neffectually subdued the scoundrel than many beatings--then he gave him\na push that carried him bodily through the tent doorway to sprawl upon\nthe turf beyond.\n\n\"Now,\" he said, turning toward Meriem, \"who has the key to this thing\nabout your neck?\"\n\nThe girl pointed to Jenssen's body.  \"He carried it always,\" she said.\n\nThe stranger searched the clothing on the corpse until he came upon the\nkey.  A moment more Meriem was free.\n\n\"Will you let me go back to my Korak?\" she asked.\n\n\"I will see that you are returned to your people,\" he replied.  \"Who\nare they and where is their village?\"\n\nHe had been eyeing her strange, barbaric garmenture wonderingly.  From\nher speech she was evidently an Arab girl; but he had never before seen\none thus clothed.\n\n\"Who are your people?  Who is Korak?\" he asked again.\n\n\"Korak!  Why Korak is an ape.  I have no other people.  Korak and I\nlive in the jungle alone since A'ht went to be king of the apes.\" She\nhad always thus pronounced Akut's name, for so it had sounded to her\nwhen first she came with Korak and the ape.  \"Korak could have been\nkind, but he would not.\"\n\nA questioning expression entered the stranger's eyes.  He looked at the\ngirl closely.\n\n\"So Korak is an ape?\" he said.  \"And what, pray, are you?\"\n\n\"I am Meriem.  I, also, am an ape.\"\n\n\"M-m,\" was the stranger's only oral comment upon this startling\nannouncement; but what he thought might have been partially interpreted\nthrough the pitying light that entered his eyes.  He approached the\ngirl and started to lay his hand upon her forehead.  She drew back with\na savage little growl.  A smile touched his lips.\n\n\"You need not fear me,\" he said.  \"I shall not harm you.  I only wish\nto discover if you have fever--if you are entirely well.  If you are we\nwill set forth in search of Korak.\"\n\nMeriem looked straight into the keen gray eyes.  She must have found\nthere an unquestionable assurance of the honorableness of their owner,\nfor she permitted him to lay his palm upon her forehead and feel her\npulse.  Apparently she had no fever.\n\n\"How long have you been an ape?\" asked the man.\n\n\"Since I was a little girl, many, many years ago, and Korak came and\ntook me from my father who was beating me.  Since then I have lived in\nthe trees with Korak and A'ht.\"\n\n\"Where in the jungle lives Korak?\" asked the stranger.\n\nMeriem pointed with a sweep of her hand that took in, generously, half\nthe continent of Africa.\n\n\"Could you find your way back to him?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" she replied; \"but he will find his way to me.\"\n\n\"Then I have a plan,\" said the stranger.  \"I live but a few marches\nfrom here.  I shall take you home where my wife will look after you and\ncare for you until we can find Korak or Korak finds us.  If he could\nfind you here he can find you at my village.  Is it not so?\"\n\nMeriem thought that it was so; but she did not like the idea of not\nstarting immediately back to meet Korak.  On the other hand the man had\nno intention of permitting this poor, insane child to wander further\namidst the dangers of the jungle.  From whence she had come, or what\nshe had undergone he could not guess, but that her Korak and their life\namong the apes was but a figment of a disordered mind he could not\ndoubt.  He knew the jungle well, and he knew that men have lived alone\nand naked among the savage beasts for years; but a frail and slender\ngirl!  No, it was not possible.\n\nTogether they went outside.  Malbihn's boys were striking camp in\npreparation for a hasty departure.  The stranger's blacks were\nconversing with them.  Malbihn stood at a distance, angry and\nglowering.  The stranger approached one of his own men.\n\n\"Find out where they got this girl,\" he commanded.\n\nThe Negro thus addressed questioned one of Malbihn's followers.\nPresently he returned to his master.\n\n\"They bought her from old Kovudoo,\" he said.  \"That is all that this\nfellow will tell me.  He pretends that he knows nothing more, and I\nguess that he does not.  These two white men were very bad men.  They\ndid many things that their boys knew not the meanings of.  It would be\nwell, Bwana, to kill the other.\"\n\n\"I wish that I might; but a new law is come into this part of the\njungle.  It is not as it was in the old days, Muviri,\" replied the\nmaster.\n\nThe stranger remained until Malbihn and his safari had disappeared into\nthe jungle toward the north.  Meriem, trustful now, stood at his side,\nGeeka clutched in one slim, brown hand.  They talked together, the man\nwondering at the faltering Arabic of the girl, but attributing it\nfinally to her defective mentality.  Could he have known that years had\nelapsed since she had used it until she was taken by the Swedes he\nwould not have wondered that she had half forgotten it.  There was yet\nanother reason why the language of The Sheik had thus readily eluded\nher; but of that reason she herself could not have guessed the truth\nany better than could the man.\n\nHe tried to persuade her to return with him to his \"village\" as he\ncalled it, or douar, in Arabic; but she was insistent upon searching\nimmediately for Korak.  As a last resort he determined to take her with\nhim by force rather than sacrifice her life to the insane hallucination\nwhich haunted her; but, being a wise man, he determined to humor her\nfirst and then attempt to lead her as he would have her go.  So when\nthey took up their march it was in the direction of the south, though\nhis own ranch lay almost due east.\n\nBy degrees he turned the direction of their way more and more eastward,\nand greatly was he pleased to note that the girl failed to discover\nthat any change was being made.  Little by little she became more\ntrusting.  At first she had had but her intuition to guide her belief\nthat this big Tarmangani meant her no harm, but as the days passed and\nshe saw that his kindness and consideration never faltered she came to\ncompare him with Korak, and to be very fond of him; but never did her\nloyalty to her apeman flag.\n\nOn the fifth day they came suddenly upon a great plain and from the\nedge of the forest the girl saw in the distance fenced fields and many\nbuildings.  At the sight she drew back in astonishment.\n\n\"Where are we?\" she asked, pointing.\n\n\"We could not find Korak,\" replied the man, \"and as our way led near my\ndouar I have brought you here to wait and rest with my wife until my\nmen can find your ape, or he finds you.  It is better thus, little one.\nYou will be safer with us, and you will be happier.\"\n\n\"I am afraid, Bwana,\" said the girl.  \"In thy douar they will beat me\nas did The Sheik, my father.  Let me go back into the jungle.  There\nKorak will find me.  He would not think to look for me in the douar of\na white man.\"\n\n\"No one will beat you, child,\" replied the man.  \"I have not done so,\nhave I?  Well, here all belong to me.  They will treat you well.  Here\nno one is beaten.  My wife will be very good to you, and at last Korak\nwill come, for I shall send men to search for him.\"\n\nThe girl shook her head.  \"They could not bring him, for he would kill\nthem, as all men have tried to kill him.  I am afraid.  Let me go,\nBwana.\"\n\n\"You do not know the way to your own country.  You would be lost.  The\nleopards or the lions would get you the first night, and after all you\nwould not find your Korak.  It is better that you stay with us.  Did I\nnot save you from the bad man?  Do you not owe me something for that?\nWell, then remain with us for a few weeks at least until we can\ndetermine what is best for you.  You are only a little girl--it would\nbe wicked to permit you to go alone into the jungle.\"\n\nMeriem laughed.  \"The jungle,\" she said, \"is my father and my mother.\nIt has been kinder to me than have men.  I am not afraid of the jungle.\nNor am I afraid of the leopard or the lion.  When my time comes I shall\ndie.  It may be that a leopard or a lion shall kill me, or it may be a\ntiny bug no bigger than the end of my littlest finger.  When the lion\nleaps upon me, or the little bug stings me I shall be afraid--oh, then\nI shall be terribly afraid, I know; but life would be very miserable\nindeed were I to spend it in terror of the thing that has not yet\nhappened.  If it be the lion my terror shall be short of life; but if\nit be the little bug I may suffer for days before I die.  And so I fear\nthe lion least of all.  He is great and noisy.  I can hear him, or see\nhim, or smell him in time to escape; but any moment I may place a hand\nor foot on the little bug, and never know that he is there until I feel\nhis deadly sting.  No, I do not fear the jungle.  I love it.  I should\nrather die than leave it forever; but your douar is close beside the\njungle.  You have been good to me.  I will do as you wish, and remain\nhere for a while to wait the coming of my Korak.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said the man, and he led the way down toward the flower-covered\nbungalow behind which lay the barns and out-houses of a well-ordered\nAfrican farm.\n\nAs they came nearer a dozen dogs ran barking toward them--gaunt wolf\nhounds, a huge great Dane, a nimble-footed collie and a number of\nyapping, quarrelsome fox terriers.  At first their appearance was\nsavage and unfriendly in the extreme; but once they recognized the\nforemost black warriors, and the white man behind them their attitude\nunderwent a remarkable change.  The collie and the fox terriers became\nfrantic with delirious joy, and while the wolf hounds and the great\nDane were not a whit less delighted at the return of their master their\ngreetings were of a more dignified nature.  Each in turn sniffed at\nMeriem who displayed not the slightest fear of any of them.\n\nThe wolf hounds bristled and growled at the scent of wild beasts that\nclung to her garment; but when she laid her hand upon their heads and\nher soft voice murmured caressingly they half-closed their eyes,\nlifting their upper lips in contented canine smiles.  The man was\nwatching them and he too smiled, for it was seldom that these savage\nbrutes took thus kindly to strangers.  It was as though in some subtile\nway the girl had breathed a message of kindred savagery to their savage\nhearts.\n\nWith her slim fingers grasping the collar of a wolf hound upon either\nside of her Meriem walked on toward the bungalow upon the porch of\nwhich a woman dressed in white waved a welcome to her returning lord.\nThere was more fear in the girl's eyes now than there had been in the\npresence of strange men or savage beasts.  She hesitated, turning an\nappealing glance toward the man.\n\n\"This is my wife,\" he said.  \"She will be glad to welcome you.\"\n\nThe woman came down the path to meet them.  The man kissed her, and\nturning toward Meriem introduced them, speaking in the Arab tongue the\ngirl understood.\n\n\"This is Meriem, my dear,\" he said, and he told the story of the jungle\nwaif in so far as he knew it.\n\nMeriem saw that the woman was beautiful.  She saw that sweetness and\ngoodness were stamped indelibly upon her countenance.  She no longer\nfeared her, and when her brief story had been narrated and the woman\ncame and put her arms about her and kissed her and called her \"poor\nlittle darling\" something snapped in Meriem's little heart.  She buried\nher face on the bosom of this new friend in whose voice was the mother\ntone that Meriem had not heard for so many years that she had forgotten\nits very existence.  She buried her face on the kindly bosom and wept\nas she had not wept before in all her life--tears of relief and joy\nthat she could not fathom.\n\nAnd so came Meriem, the savage little Mangani, out of her beloved\njungle into the midst of a home of culture and refinement.  Already\n\"Bwana\" and \"My Dear,\" as she first heard them called and continued to\ncall them, were as father and mother to her.  Once her savage fears\nallayed, she went to the opposite extreme of trustfulness and love.\nNow she was willing to wait here until they found Korak, or Korak found\nher.  She did not give up that thought--Korak, her Korak always was\nfirst.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 15\n\n\nAnd out in the jungle, far away, Korak, covered with wounds, stiff with\nclotted blood, burning with rage and sorrow, swung back upon the trail\nof the great baboons.  He had not found them where he had last seen\nthem, nor in any of their usual haunts; but he sought them along the\nwell-marked spoor they had left behind them, and at last he overtook\nthem.  When first he came upon them they were moving slowly but\nsteadily southward in one of those periodic migrations the reasons for\nwhich the baboon himself is best able to explain.  At sight of the\nwhite warrior who came upon them from down wind the herd halted in\nresponse to the warning cry of the sentinel that had discovered him.\nThere was much growling and muttering; much stiff-legged circling on\nthe part of the bulls.  The mothers, in nervous, high pitched tones,\ncalled their young to their sides, and with them moved to safety behind\ntheir lords and masters.\n\nKorak called aloud to the king, who, at the familiar voice, advanced\nslowly, warily, and still stiff-legged.  He must have the confirmatory\nevidence of his nose before venturing to rely too implicitly upon the\ntestimony of his ears and eyes.  Korak stood perfectly still.  To have\nadvanced then might have precipitated an immediate attack, or, as\neasily, a panic of flight.  Wild beasts are creatures of nerves.  It is\na relatively simple thing to throw them into a species of hysteria\nwhich may induce either a mania for murder, or symptoms of apparent\nabject cowardice--it is a question, however, if a wild animal ever is\nactually a coward.\n\nThe king baboon approached Korak.  He walked around him in an ever\ndecreasing circle--growling, grunting, sniffing.  Korak spoke to him.\n\n\"I am Korak,\" he said.  \"I opened the cage that held you.  I saved you\nfrom the Tarmangani.  I am Korak, The Killer.  I am your friend.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" grunted the king.  \"Yes, you are Korak.  My ears told me that\nyou were Korak.  My eyes told me that you were Korak.  Now my nose\ntells me that you are Korak.  My nose is never wrong.  I am your\nfriend.  Come, we shall hunt together.\"\n\n\"Korak cannot hunt now,\" replied the ape-man.  \"The Gomangani have\nstolen Meriem.  They have tied her in their village.  They will not let\nher go.  Korak, alone, was unable to set her free.  Korak set you free.\nNow will you bring your people and set Korak's Meriem free?\"\n\n\"The Gomangani have many sharp sticks which they throw.  They pierce\nthe bodies of my people.  They kill us.  The gomangani are bad people.\nThey will kill us all if we enter their village.\"\n\n\"The Tarmangani have sticks that make a loud noise and kill at a great\ndistance,\" replied Korak.  \"They had these when Korak set you free from\ntheir trap.  If Korak had run away from them you would now be a\nprisoner among the Tarmangani.\"\n\nThe baboon scratched his head.  In a rough circle about him and the\nape-man squatted the bulls of his herd.  They blinked their eyes,\nshouldered one another about for more advantageous positions, scratched\nin the rotting vegetation upon the chance of unearthing a toothsome\nworm, or sat listlessly eyeing their king and the strange Mangani, who\ncalled himself thus but who more closely resembled the hated\nTarmangani.  The king looked at some of the older of his subjects, as\nthough inviting suggestion.\n\n\"We are too few,\" grunted one.\n\n\"There are the baboons of the hill country,\" suggested another.  \"They\nare as many as the leaves of the forest.  They, too, hate the\nGomangani.  They love to fight.  They are very savage.  Let us ask them\nto accompany us.  Then can we kill all the Gomangani in the jungle.\" He\nrose and growled horribly, bristling his stiff hair.\n\n\"That is the way to talk,\" cried The Killer, \"but we do not need the\nbaboons of the hill country.  We are enough.  It will take a long time\nto fetch them.  Meriem may be dead and eaten before we could free her.\nLet us set out at once for the village of the Gomangani.  If we travel\nvery fast it will not take long to reach it.  Then, all at the same\ntime, we can charge into the village, growling and barking.  The\nGomangani will be very frightened and will run away.  While they are\ngone we can seize Meriem and carry her off.  We do not have to kill or\nbe killed--all that Korak wishes is his Meriem.\"\n\n\"We are too few,\" croaked the old ape again.\n\n\"Yes, we are too few,\" echoed others.\n\nKorak could not persuade them.  They would help him, gladly; but they\nmust do it in their own way and that meant enlisting the services of\ntheir kinsmen and allies of the hill country.  So Korak was forced to\ngive in.  All he could do for the present was to urge them to haste,\nand at his suggestion the king baboon with a dozen of his mightiest\nbulls agreed to go to the hill country with Korak, leaving the balance\nof the herd behind.\n\nOnce enlisted in the adventure the baboons became quite enthusiastic\nabout it.  The delegation set off immediately.  They traveled swiftly;\nbut the ape-man found no difficulty in keeping up with them.  They made\na tremendous racket as they passed through the trees in an endeavor to\nsuggest to enemies in their front that a great herd was approaching,\nfor when the baboons travel in large numbers there is no jungle\ncreature who cares to molest them.  When the nature of the country\nrequired much travel upon the level, and the distance between trees was\ngreat, they moved silently, knowing that the lion and the leopard would\nnot be fooled by noise when they could see plainly for themselves that\nonly a handful of baboons were on the trail.\n\nFor two days the party raced through the savage country, passing out of\nthe dense jungle into an open plain, and across this to timbered\nmountain slopes.  Here Korak never before had been.  It was a new\ncountry to him and the change from the monotony of the circumscribed\nview in the jungle was pleasing.  But he had little desire to enjoy the\nbeauties of nature at this time.  Meriem, his Meriem was in danger.\nUntil she was freed and returned to him he had little thought for aught\nelse.\n\nOnce in the forest that clothed the mountain slopes the baboons\nadvanced more slowly.  Constantly they gave tongue to a plaintive note\nof calling.  Then would follow silence while they listened.  At last,\nfaintly from the distance straight ahead came an answer.\n\nThe baboons continued to travel in the direction of the voices that\nfloated through the forest to them in the intervals of their own\nsilence.  Thus, calling and listening, they came closer to their\nkinsmen, who, it was evident to Korak, were coming to meet them in\ngreat numbers; but when, at last, the baboons of the hill country came\nin view the ape-man was staggered at the reality that broke upon his\nvision.\n\nWhat appeared a solid wall of huge baboons rose from the ground through\nthe branches of the trees to the loftiest terrace to which they dared\nentrust their weight.  Slowly they were approaching, voicing their\nweird, plaintive call, and behind them, as far as Korak's eyes could\npierce the verdure, rose solid walls of their fellows treading close\nupon their heels.  There were thousands of them.  The ape-man could not\nbut think of the fate of his little party should some untoward incident\narouse even momentarily the rage of fear of a single one of all these\nthousands.\n\nBut nothing such befell.  The two kings approached one another, as was\ntheir custom, with much sniffing and bristling.  They satisfied\nthemselves of each other's identity.  Then each scratched the other's\nback.  After a moment they spoke together.  Korak's friend explained\nthe nature of their visit, and for the first time Korak showed himself.\nHe had been hiding behind a bush.  The excitement among the hill\nbaboons was intense at sight of him.  For a moment Korak feared that he\nshould be torn to pieces; but his fear was for Meriem.  Should he die\nthere would be none to succor her.\n\nThe two kings, however, managed to quiet the multitude, and Korak was\npermitted to approach.  Slowly the hill baboons came closer to him.\nThey sniffed at him from every angle.  When he spoke to them in their\nown tongue they were filled with wonder and delight.  They talked to\nhim and listened while he spoke.  He told them of Meriem, and of their\nlife in the jungle where they were the friends of all the ape folk from\nlittle Manu to Mangani, the great ape.\n\n\"The Gomangani, who are keeping Meriem from me, are no friends of\nyours,\" he said.  \"They kill you.  The baboons of the low country are\ntoo few to go against them.  They tell me that you are very many and\nvery brave--that your numbers are as the numbers of the grasses upon\nthe plains or the leaves within the forest, and that even Tantor, the\nelephant, fears you, so brave you are.  They told me that you would be\nhappy to accompany us to the village of the Gomangani and punish these\nbad people while I, Korak, The Killer, carry away my Meriem.\"\n\nThe king ape puffed out his chest and strutted about very stiff-legged\nindeed.  So also did many of the other great bulls of his nation.  They\nwere pleased and flattered by the words of the strange Tarmangani, who\ncalled himself Mangani and spoke the language of the hairy progenitors\nof man.\n\n\"Yes,\" said one, \"we of the hill country are mighty fighters.  Tantor\nfears us.  Numa fears us.  Sheeta fears us.  The Gomangani of the hill\ncountry are glad to pass us by in peace.  I, for one, will come with\nyou to the village of the Gomangani of the low places.  I am the king's\nfirst he-child.  Alone can I kill all the Gomangani of the low\ncountry,\" and he swelled his chest and strutted proudly back and forth,\nuntil the itching back of a comrade commanded his industrious attention.\n\n\"I am Goob,\" cried another.  \"My fighting fangs are long.  They are\nsharp.  They are strong.  Into the soft flesh of many a Gomangani have\nthey been buried.  Alone I slew the sister of Sheeta.  Goob will go to\nthe low country with you and kill so many of the Gomangani that there\nwill be none left to count the dead,\" and then he, too, strutted and\npranced before the admiring eyes of the shes and the young.\n\nKorak looked at the king, questioningly.\n\n\"Your bulls are very brave,\" he said; \"but braver than any is the king.\"\n\nThus addressed, the shaggy bull, still in his prime--else he had been\nno longer king--growled ferociously.  The forest echoed to his lusty\nchallenges.  The little baboons clutched fearfully at their mothers'\nhairy necks.  The bulls, electrified, leaped high in air and took up\nthe roaring challenge of their king.  The din was terrific.\n\nKorak came close to the king and shouted in his ear, \"Come.\" Then he\nstarted off through the forest toward the plain that they must cross on\ntheir long journey back to the village of Kovudoo, the Gomangani.  The\nking, still roaring and shrieking, wheeled and followed him.  In their\nwake came the handful of low country baboons and the thousands of the\nhill clan--savage, wiry, dog-like creatures, athirst for blood.\n\nAnd so they came, upon the second day, to the village of Kovudoo.  It\nwas mid-afternoon.  The village was sunk in the quiet of the great\nequatorial sun-heat.  The mighty herd traveled quietly now.  Beneath\nthe thousands of padded feet the forest gave forth no greater sound\nthan might have been produced by the increased soughing of a stronger\nbreeze through the leafy branches of the trees.\n\nKorak and the two kings were in the lead.  Close beside the village\nthey halted until the stragglers had closed up.  Now utter silence\nreigned.  Korak, creeping stealthily, entered the tree that overhung\nthe palisade.  He glanced behind him.  The pack were close upon his\nheels.  The time had come.  He had warned them continuously during the\nlong march that no harm must befall the white she who lay a prisoner\nwithin the village.  All others were their legitimate prey.  Then,\nraising his face toward the sky, he gave voice to a single cry.  It was\nthe signal.\n\nIn response three thousand hairy bulls leaped screaming and barking\ninto the village of the terrified blacks.  Warriors poured from every\nhut.  Mothers gathered their babies in their arms and fled toward the\ngates as they saw the horrid horde pouring into the village street.\nKovudoo marshaled his fighting men about him and, leaping and yelling\nto arouse their courage, offered a bristling, spear tipped front to the\ncharging horde.\n\nKorak, as he had led the march, led the charge.  The blacks were struck\nwith horror and dismay at the sight of this white-skinned youth at the\nhead of a pack of hideous baboons.  For an instant they held their\nground, hurling their spears once at the advancing multitude; but\nbefore they could fit arrows to their bows they wavered, gave, and\nturned in terrified rout.  Into their ranks, upon their backs, sinking\nstrong fangs into the muscles of their necks sprang the baboons and\nfirst among them, most ferocious, most blood-thirsty, most terrible was\nKorak, The Killer.\n\nAt the village gates, through which the blacks poured in panic, Korak\nleft them to the tender mercies of his allies and turned himself\neagerly toward the hut in which Meriem had been a prisoner.  It was\nempty.  One after another the filthy interiors revealed the same\ndisheartening fact--Meriem was in none of them.  That she had not been\ntaken by the blacks in their flight from the village Korak knew for he\nhad watched carefully for a glimpse of her among the fugitives.\n\nTo the mind of the ape-man, knowing as he did the proclivities of the\nsavages, there was but a single explanation--Meriem had been killed and\neaten.  With the conviction that Meriem was dead there surged through\nKorak's brain a wave of blood red rage against those he believed to be\nher murderer.  In the distance he could hear the snarling of the\nbaboons mixed with the screams of their victims, and towards this he\nmade his way.  When he came upon them the baboons had commenced to tire\nof the sport of battle, and the blacks in a little knot were making a\nnew stand, using their knob sticks effectively upon the few bulls who\nstill persisted in attacking them.\n\nAmong these broke Korak from the branches of a tree above them--swift,\nrelentless, terrible, he hurled himself upon the savage warriors of\nKovudoo.  Blind fury possessed him.  Too, it protected him by its very\nferocity.  Like a wounded lioness he was here, there, everywhere,\nstriking terrific blows with hard fists and with the precision and\ntimeliness of the trained fighter.  Again and again he buried his teeth\nin the flesh of a foeman.  He was upon one and gone again to another\nbefore an effective blow could be dealt him.  Yet, though great was the\nweight of his execution in determining the result of the combat, it was\noutweighed by the terror which he inspired in the simple, superstitious\nminds of his foeman.  To them this white warrior, who consorted with\nthe great apes and the fierce baboons, who growled and snarled and\nsnapped like a beast, was not human.  He was a demon of the forest--a\nfearsome god of evil whom they had offended, and who had come out of\nhis lair deep in the jungle to punish them.  And because of this belief\nthere were many who offered but little defense, feeling as they did the\nfutility of pitting their puny mortal strength against that of a deity.\n\nThose who could fled, until at last there were no more to pay the\npenalty for a deed, which, while not beyond them, they were,\nnevertheless, not guilty of.  Panting and bloody, Korak paused for want\nof further victims.  The baboons gathered about him, sated themselves\nwith blood and battle.  They lolled upon the ground, fagged.\n\nIn the distance Kovudoo was gathering his scattered tribesmen, and\ntaking account of injuries and losses.  His people were panic stricken.\nNothing could prevail upon them to remain longer in this country.  They\nwould not even return to the village for their belongings.  Instead\nthey insisted upon continuing their flight until they had put many\nmiles between themselves and the stamping ground of the demon who had\nso bitterly attacked them.  And thus it befell that Korak drove from\ntheir homes the only people who might have aided him in a search for\nMeriem, and cut off the only connecting link between him and her from\nwhomsoever might come in search of him from the douar of the kindly\nBwana who had befriended his little jungle sweetheart.\n\nIt was a sour and savage Korak who bade farewell to his baboon allies\nupon the following morning.  They wished him to accompany him; but the\nape-man had no heart for the society of any.  Jungle life had\nencouraged taciturnity in him.  His sorrow had deepened this to a\nsullen moroseness that could not brook even the savage companionship of\nthe ill-natured baboons.\n\nBrooding and despondent he took his solitary way into the deepest\njungle.  He moved along the ground when he knew that Numa was abroad\nand hungry.  He took to the same trees that harbored Sheeta, the\npanther.  He courted death in a hundred ways and a hundred forms.  His\nmind was ever occupied with reminiscences of Meriem and the happy years\nthat they had spent together.  He realized now to the full what she had\nmeant to him.  The sweet face, the tanned, supple, little body, the\nbright smile that always had welcomed his return from the hunt haunted\nhim continually.\n\nInaction soon threatened him with madness.  He must be on the go.  He\nmust fill his days with labor and excitement that he might forget--that\nnight might find him so exhausted that he should sleep in blessed\nunconsciousness of his misery until a new day had come.\n\nHad he guessed that by any possibility Meriem might still live he would\nat least have had hope.  His days could have been devoted to searching\nfor her; but he implicitly believed that she was dead.\n\nFor a long year he led his solitary, roaming life.  Occasionally he\nfell in with Akut and his tribe, hunting with them for a day or two; or\nhe might travel to the hill country where the baboons had come to\naccept him as a matter of course; but most of all was he with Tantor,\nthe elephant--the great gray battle ship of the jungle--the\nsuper-dreadnaught of his savage world.\n\nThe peaceful quiet of the monster bulls, the watchful solicitude of the\nmother cows, the awkward playfulness of the calves rested, interested,\nand amused Korak.  The life of the huge beasts took his mind,\ntemporarily from his own grief.  He came to love them as he loved not\neven the great apes, and there was one gigantic tusker in particular of\nwhich he was very fond--the lord of the herd--a savage beast that was\nwont to charge a stranger upon the slightest provocation, or upon no\nprovocation whatsoever.  And to Korak this mountain of destruction was\ndocile and affectionate as a lap dog.\n\nHe came when Korak called.  He wound his trunk about the ape-man's body\nand lifted him to his broad neck in response to a gesture, and there\nwould Korak lie at full length kicking his toes affectionately into the\nthick hide and brushing the flies from about the tender ears of his\ncolossal chum with a leafy branch torn from a nearby tree by Tantor for\nthe purpose.\n\nAnd all the while Meriem was scarce a hundred miles away.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 16\n\n\nTo Meriem, in her new home, the days passed quickly.  At first she was\nall anxiety to be off into the jungle searching for her Korak.  Bwana,\nas she insisted upon calling her benefactor, dissuaded her from making\nthe attempt at once by dispatching a head man with a party of blacks to\nKovudoo's village with instructions to learn from the old savage how he\ncame into possession of the white girl and as much of her antecedents\nas might be culled from the black chieftain.  Bwana particularly\ncharged his head man with the duty of questioning Kovudoo relative to\nthe strange character whom the girl called Korak, and of searching for\nthe ape-man if he found the slightest evidence upon which to ground a\nbelief in the existence of such an individual.  Bwana was more than\nfully convinced that Korak was a creature of the girl's disordered\nimagination.  He believed that the terrors and hardships she had\nundergone during captivity among the blacks and her frightful\nexperience with the two Swedes had unbalanced her mind but as the days\npassed and he became better acquainted with her and able to observe her\nunder the ordinary conditions of the quiet of his African home he was\nforced to admit that her strange tale puzzled him not a little, for\nthere was no other evidence whatever that Meriem was not in full\npossession of her normal faculties.\n\nThe white man's wife, whom Meriem had christened \"My Dear\" from having\nfirst heard her thus addressed by Bwana, took not only a deep interest\nin the little jungle waif because of her forlorn and friendless state,\nbut grew to love her as well for her sunny disposition and natural\ncharm of temperament.  And Meriem, similarly impressed by little\nattributes in the gentle, cultured woman, reciprocated the other's\nregard and affection.\n\nAnd so the days flew by while Meriem waited the return of the head man\nand his party from the country of Kovudoo.  They were short days, for\ninto them were crowded many hours of insidious instruction of the\nunlettered child by the lonely woman.  She commenced at once to teach\nthe girl English without forcing it upon her as a task.  She varied the\ninstruction with lessons in sewing and deportment, nor once did she let\nMeriem guess that it was not all play.  Nor was this difficult, since\nthe girl was avid to learn.  Then there were pretty dresses to be made\nto take the place of the single leopard skin and in this she found the\nchild as responsive and enthusiastic as any civilized miss of her\nacquaintance.\n\nA month passed before the head man returned--a month that had\ntransformed the savage, half-naked little tarmangani into a daintily\nfrocked girl of at least outward civilization.  Meriem had progressed\nrapidly with the intricacies of the English language, for Bwana and My\nDear had persistently refused to speak Arabic from the time they had\ndecided that Meriem must learn English, which had been a day or two\nafter her introduction into their home.\n\nThe report of the head man plunged Meriem into a period of despondency,\nfor he had found the village of Kovudoo deserted nor, search as he\nwould, could he discover a single native anywhere in the vicinity.  For\nsome time he had camped near the village, spending the days in a\nsystematic search of the environs for traces of Meriem's Korak; but in\nthis quest, too, had he failed.  He had seen neither apes nor ape-man.\nMeriem at first insisted upon setting forth herself in search of Korak,\nbut Bwana prevailed upon her to wait.  He would go himself, he assured\nher, as soon as he could find the time, and at last Meriem consented to\nabide by his wishes; but it was months before she ceased to mourn\nalmost hourly for her Korak.\n\nMy Dear grieved with the grieving girl and did her best to comfort and\ncheer her.  She told her that if Korak lived he would find her; but all\nthe time she believed that Korak had never existed beyond the child's\ndreams.  She planned amusements to distract Meriem's attention from her\nsorrow, and she instituted a well-designed campaign to impress upon the\nchild the desirability of civilized life and customs.  Nor was this\ndifficult, as she was soon to learn, for it rapidly became evident that\nbeneath the uncouth savagery of the girl was a bed rock of innate\nrefinement--a nicety of taste and predilection that quite equaled that\nof her instructor.\n\nMy Dear was delighted.  She was lonely and childless, and so she\nlavished upon this little stranger all the mother love that would have\ngone to her own had she had one.  The result was that by the end of the\nfirst year none might have guessed that Meriem ever had existed beyond\nthe lap of culture and luxury.\n\nShe was sixteen now, though she easily might have passed for nineteen,\nand she was very good to look upon, with her black hair and her tanned\nskin and all the freshness and purity of health and innocence.  Yet she\nstill nursed her secret sorrow, though she no longer mentioned it to My\nDear.  Scarce an hour passed that did not bring its recollection of\nKorak, and its poignant yearning to see him again.\n\nMeriem spoke English fluently now, and read and wrote it as well.  One\nday My Dear spoke jokingly to her in French and to her surprise Meriem\nreplied in the same tongue--slowly, it is true, and haltingly; but none\nthe less in excellent French, such, though, as a little child might\nuse.  Thereafter they spoke a little French each day, and My Dear often\nmarveled that the girl learned this language with a facility that was\nat times almost uncanny.  At first Meriem had puckered her narrow,\narched, little eye brows as though trying to force recollection of\nsomething all but forgotten which the new words suggested, and then, to\nher own astonishment as well as to that of her teacher she had used\nother French words than those in the lessons--used them properly and\nwith a pronunciation that the English woman knew was more perfect than\nher own; but Meriem could neither read nor write what she spoke so\nwell, and as My Dear considered a knowledge of correct English of the\nfirst importance, other than conversational French was postponed for a\nlater day.\n\n\"You doubtless heard French spoken at times in your father's douar,\"\nsuggested My Dear, as the most reasonable explanation.\n\nMeriem shook her head.\n\n\"It may be,\" she said, \"but I do not recall ever having seen a\nFrenchman in my father's company--he hated them and would have nothing\nwhatever to do with them, and I am quite sure that I never heard any of\nthese words before, yet at the same time I find them all familiar.  I\ncannot understand it.\"\n\n\"Neither can I,\" agreed My Dear.\n\nIt was about this time that a runner brought a letter that, when she\nlearned the contents, filled Meriem with excitement.  Visitors were\ncoming!  A number of English ladies and gentlemen had accepted My\nDear's invitation to spend a month of hunting and exploring with them.\nMeriem was all expectancy.  What would these strangers be like?  Would\nthey be as nice to her as had Bwana and My Dear, or would they be like\nthe other white folk she had known--cruel and relentless.  My Dear\nassured her that they all were gentle folk and that she would find them\nkind, considerate and honorable.\n\nTo My Dear's surprise there was none of the shyness of the wild\ncreature in Meriem's anticipation of the visit of strangers.\n\nShe looked forward to their coming with curiosity and with a certain\npleasurable anticipation when once she was assured that they would not\nbite her.  In fact she appeared no different than would any pretty\nyoung miss who had learned of the expected coming of company.\n\nKorak's image was still often in her thoughts, but it aroused now a\nless well-defined sense of bereavement.  A quiet sadness pervaded\nMeriem when she thought of him; but the poignant grief of her loss when\nit was young no longer goaded her to desperation.  Yet she was still\nloyal to him.  She still hoped that some day he would find her, nor did\nshe doubt for a moment but that he was searching for her if he still\nlived.  It was this last suggestion that caused her the greatest\nperturbation.  Korak might be dead.  It scarce seemed possible that one\nso well-equipped to meet the emergencies of jungle life should have\nsuccumbed so young; yet when she had last seen him he had been beset by\na horde of armed warriors, and should he have returned to the village\nagain, as she well knew he must have, he may have been killed.  Even\nher Korak could not, single handed, slay an entire tribe.\n\nAt last the visitors arrived.  There were three men and two women--the\nwives of the two older men.  The youngest member of the party was Hon.\nMorison Baynes, a young man of considerable wealth who, having\nexhausted all the possibilities for pleasure offered by the capitals of\nEurope, had gladly seized upon this opportunity to turn to another\ncontinent for excitement and adventure.\n\nHe looked upon all things un-European as rather more than less\nimpossible, still he was not at all averse to enjoying the novelty of\nunaccustomed places, and making the most of strangers indigenous\nthereto, however unspeakable they might have seemed to him at home.  In\nmanner he was suave and courteous to all--if possible a trifle more\npunctilious toward those he considered of meaner clay than toward the\nfew he mentally admitted to equality.\n\nNature had favored him with a splendid physique and a handsome face,\nand also with sufficient good judgment to appreciate that while he\nmight enjoy the contemplation of his superiority to the masses, there\nwas little likelihood of the masses being equally entranced by the same\ncause.  And so he easily maintained the reputation of being a most\ndemocratic and likeable fellow, and indeed he was likable.  Just a\nshade of his egotism was occasionally apparent--never sufficient to\nbecome a burden to his associates.  And this, briefly, was the Hon.\nMorison Baynes of luxurious European civilization.  What would be the\nHon.  Morison Baynes of central Africa it were difficult to guess.\n\nMeriem, at first, was shy and reserved in the presence of the\nstrangers.  Her benefactors had seen fit to ignore mention of her\nstrange past, and so she passed as their ward whose antecedents not\nhaving been mentioned were not to be inquired into.  The guests found\nher sweet and unassuming, laughing, vivacious and a never exhausted\nstorehouse of quaint and interesting jungle lore.\n\nShe had ridden much during her year with Bwana and My Dear.  She knew\neach favorite clump of concealing reeds along the river that the\nbuffalo loved best.  She knew a dozen places where lions laired, and\nevery drinking hole in the drier country twenty-five miles back from\nthe river.  With unerring precision that was almost uncanny she could\ntrack the largest or the smallest beast to his hiding place.  But the\nthing that baffled them all was her instant consciousness of the\npresence of carnivora that others, exerting their faculties to the\nutmost, could neither see nor hear.\n\nThe Hon. Morison Baynes found Meriem a most beautiful and charming\ncompanion.  He was delighted with her from the first.  Particularly so,\nit is possible, because he had not thought to find companionship of\nthis sort upon the African estate of his London friends.  They were\ntogether a great deal as they were the only unmarried couple in the\nlittle company.  Meriem, entirely unaccustomed to the companionship of\nsuch as Baynes, was fascinated by him.  His tales of the great, gay\ncities with which he was familiar filled her with admiration and with\nwonder.  If the Hon. Morison always shone to advantage in these\nnarratives Meriem saw in that fact but a most natural consequence to\nhis presence upon the scene of his story--wherever Morison might be he\nmust be a hero; so thought the girl.\n\nWith the actual presence and companionship of the young Englishman the\nimage of Korak became less real.  Where before it had been an actuality\nto her she now realized that Korak was but a memory.  To that memory\nshe still was loyal; but what weight has a memory in the presence of a\nfascinating reality?\n\nMeriem had never accompanied the men upon a hunt since the arrival of\nthe guests.  She never had cared particularly for the sport of killing.\nThe tracking she enjoyed; but the mere killing for the sake of killing\nshe could not find pleasure in--little savage that she had been, and\nstill, to some measure, was.  When Bwana had gone forth to shoot for\nmeat she had always been his enthusiastic companion; but with the\ncoming of the London guests the hunting had deteriorated into mere\nkilling.  Slaughter the host would not permit; yet the purpose of the\nhunts were for heads and skins and not for food.  So Meriem remained\nbehind and spent her days either with My Dear upon the shaded verandah,\nor riding her favorite pony across the plains or to the forest edge.\nHere she would leave him untethered while she took to the trees for the\nmoment's unalloyed pleasures of a return to the wild, free existence of\nher earlier childhood.\n\nThen would come again visions of Korak, and, tired at last of leaping\nand swinging through the trees, she would stretch herself comfortably\nupon a branch and dream.  And presently, as today, she found the\nfeatures of Korak slowly dissolve and merge into those of another, and\nthe figure of a tanned, half-naked tarmangani become a khaki clothed\nEnglishman astride a hunting pony.\n\nAnd while she dreamed there came to her ears from a distance, faintly,\nthe terrified bleating of a kid.  Meriem was instantly alert.  You or\nI, even had we been able to hear the pitiful wail at so great distance,\ncould not have interpreted it; but to Meriem it meant a species of\nterror that afflicts the ruminant when a carnivore is near and escape\nimpossible.\n\nIt had been both a pleasure and a sport of Korak's to rob Numa of his\nprey whenever possible, and Meriem too had often joyed in the thrill\nof snatching some dainty morsel almost from the very jaws of the king\nof beasts.  Now, at the sound of the kid's bleat, all the well\nremembered thrills recurred.  Instantly she was all excitement to play\nagain the game of hide and seek with death.\n\nQuickly she loosened her riding skirt and tossed it aside--it was a\nheavy handicap to successful travel in the trees.  Her boots and\nstockings followed the skirt, for the bare sole of the human foot does\nnot slip upon dry or even wet bark as does the hard leather of a boot.\nShe would have liked to discard her riding breeches also, but the\nmotherly admonitions of My Dear had convinced Meriem that it was not\ngood form to go naked through the world.\n\nAt her hip hung a hunting knife.  Her rifle was still in its boot at\nher pony's withers.  Her revolver she had not brought.\n\nThe kid was still bleating as Meriem started rapidly in its direction,\nwhich she knew was straight toward a certain water hole which had once\nbeen famous as a rendezvous for lions.  Of late there had been no\nevidence of carnivora in the neighborhood of this drinking place; but\nMeriem was positive that the bleating of the kid was due to the\npresence of either lion or panther.\n\nBut she would soon know, for she was rapidly approaching the terrified\nanimal.  She wondered as she hastened onward that the sounds continued\nto come from the same point.  Why did the kid not run away?  And then\nshe came in sight of the little animal and knew.  The kid was tethered\nto a stake beside the waterhole.\n\nMeriem paused in the branches of a near-by tree and scanned the\nsurrounding clearing with quick, penetrating eyes.  Where was the\nhunter?  Bwana and his people did not hunt thus.  Who could have\ntethered this poor little beast as a lure to Numa?  Bwana never\ncountenanced such acts in his country and his word was law among those\nwho hunted within a radius of many miles of his estate.\n\nSome wandering savages, doubtless, thought Meriem; but where were they?\nNot even her keen eyes could discover them.  And where was Numa?  Why\nhad he not long since sprung upon this delicious and defenseless\nmorsel?  That he was close by was attested by the pitiful crying of the\nkid.  Ah!  Now she saw him.  He was lying close in a clump of brush a\nfew yards to her right.  The kid was down wind from him and getting the\nfull benefit of his terrorizing scent, which did not reach Meriem.\n\nTo circle to the opposite side of the clearing where the trees\napproached closer to the kid.  To leap quickly to the little animal's\nside and cut the tether that held him would be the work of but a\nmoment.  In that moment Numa might charge, and then there would be\nscarce time to regain the safety of the trees, yet it might be done.\nMeriem had escaped from closer quarters than that many times before.\n\nThe doubt that gave her momentary pause was caused by fear of the\nunseen hunters more than by fear of Numa.  If they were stranger blacks\nthe spears that they held in readiness for Numa might as readily be\nloosed upon whomever dared release their bait as upon the prey they\nsought thus to trap.  Again the kid struggled to be free.  Again his\npiteous wail touched the tender heart strings of the girl.  Tossing\ndiscretion aside, she commenced to circle the clearing.  Only from Numa\ndid she attempt to conceal her presence.  At last she reached the\nopposite trees.  An instant she paused to look toward the great lion,\nand at the same moment she saw the huge beast rise slowly to his full\nheight.  A low roar betokened that he was ready.\n\nMeriem loosened her knife and leaped to the ground.  A quick run\nbrought her to the side of the kid.  Numa saw her.  He lashed his tail\nagainst his tawny sides.  He roared terribly; but, for an instant, he\nremained where he stood--surprised into inaction, doubtless, by the\nstrange apparition that had sprung so unexpectedly from the jungle.\n\nOther eyes were upon Meriem, too--eyes in which were no less surprise\nthan that reflected in the yellow-green orbs of the carnivore.  A white\nman, hiding in a thorn boma, half rose as the young girl leaped into\nthe clearing and dashed toward the kid.  He saw Numa hesitate.  He\nraised his rifle and covered the beast's breast.  The girl reached the\nkid's side.  Her knife flashed, and the little prisoner was free.  With\na parting bleat it dashed off into the jungle.  Then the girl turned to\nretreat toward the safety of the tree from which she had dropped so\nsuddenly and unexpectedly into the surprised view of the lion, the kid\nand the man.\n\nAs she turned the girl's face was turned toward the hunter.  His eyes\nwent wide as he saw her features.  He gave a little gasp of surprise;\nbut now the lion demanded all his attention--the baffled, angry beast\nwas charging.  His breast was still covered by the motionless rifle.\nThe man could have fired and stopped the charge at once; but for some\nreason, since he had seen the girl's face, he hesitated.  Could it be\nthat he did not care to save her?  Or, did he prefer, if possible, to\nremain unseen by her?  It must have been the latter cause which kept\nthe trigger finger of the steady hand from exerting the little pressure\nthat would have brought the great beast to at least a temporary pause.\n\nLike an eagle the man watched the race for life the girl was making.  A\nsecond or two measured the time which the whole exciting event consumed\nfrom the moment that the lion broke into his charge.  Nor once did the\nrifle sights fail to cover the broad breast of the tawny sire as the\nlion's course took him a little to the man's left.  Once, at the very\nlast moment, when escape seemed impossible, the hunter's finger\ntightened ever so little upon the trigger, but almost coincidentally\nthe girl leaped for an over hanging branch and seized it.  The lion\nleaped too; but the nimble Meriem had swung herself beyond his reach\nwithout a second or an inch to spare.\n\nThe man breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered his rifle.  He saw the\ngirl fling a grimace at the angry, roaring, maneater beneath her, and\nthen, laughing, speed away into the forest.  For an hour the lion\nremained about the water hole.  A hundred times could the hunter have\nbagged his prey.  Why did he fail to do so?  Was he afraid that the\nshot might attract the girl and cause her to return?\n\nAt last Numa, still roaring angrily, strode majestically into the\njungle.  The hunter crawled from his boma, and half an hour later was\nentering a little camp snugly hidden in the forest.  A handful of black\nfollowers greeted his return with sullen indifference.  He was a great\nbearded man, a huge, yellow-bearded giant, when he entered his tent.\nHalf an hour later he emerged smooth shaven.\n\nHis blacks looked at him in astonishment.\n\n\"Would you know me?\" he asked.\n\n\"The hyena that bore you would not know you, Bwana,\" replied one.\n\nThe man aimed a heavy fist at the black's face; but long experience in\ndodging similar blows saved the presumptuous one.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 17\n\n\nMeriem returned slowly toward the tree in which she had left her skirt,\nher shoes and her stockings.  She was singing blithely; but her song\ncame to a sudden stop when she came within sight of the tree, for\nthere, disporting themselves with glee and pulling and hauling upon her\nbelongings, were a number of baboons.  When they saw her they showed no\nsigns of terror.  Instead they bared their fangs and growled at her.\nWhat was there to fear in a single she-Tarmangani?  Nothing, absolutely\nnothing.\n\nIn the open plain beyond the forest the hunters were returning from the\nday's sport.  They were widely separated, hoping to raise a wandering\nlion on the homeward journey across the plain.  The Hon.  Morison\nBaynes rode closest to the forest.  As his eyes wandered back and forth\nacross the undulating, shrub sprinkled ground they fell upon the form\nof a creature close beside the thick jungle where it terminated\nabruptly at the plain's edge.\n\nHe reined his mount in the direction of his discovery.  It was yet too\nfar away for his untrained eyes to recognize it; but as he came closer\nhe saw that it was a horse, and was about to resume the original\ndirection of his way when he thought that he discerned a saddle upon\nthe beast's back.  He rode a little closer.  Yes, the animal was\nsaddled.  The Hon. Morison approached yet nearer, and as he did so his\neyes expressed a pleasurable emotion of anticipation, for they had now\nrecognized the pony as the special favorite of Meriem.\n\nHe galloped to the animal's side.  Meriem must be within the wood.  The\nman shuddered a little at the thought of an unprotected girl alone in\nthe jungle that was still, to him, a fearful place of terrors and\nstealthily stalking death.  He dismounted and left his horse beside\nMeriem's.  On foot he entered the jungle.  He knew that she was\nprobably safe enough and he wished to surprise her by coming suddenly\nupon her.\n\nHe had gone but a short distance into the wood when he heard a great\njabbering in a near-by tree.  Coming closer he saw a band of baboons\nsnarling over something.  Looking intently he saw that one of them held\na woman's riding skirt and that others had boots and stockings.  His\nheart almost ceased to beat as he quite naturally placed the most\ndireful explanation upon the scene.  The baboons had killed Meriem and\nstripped this clothing from her body.  Morison shuddered.\n\nHe was about to call aloud in the hope that after all the girl still\nlived when he saw her in a tree close beside that was occupied by the\nbaboons, and now he saw that they were snarling and jabbering at her.\nTo his amazement he saw the girl swing, ape-like, into the tree below\nthe huge beasts.  He saw her pause upon a branch a few feet from the\nnearest baboon.  He was about to raise his rifle and put a bullet\nthrough the hideous creature that seemed about to leap upon her when he\nheard the girl speak.  He almost dropped his rifle from surprise as a\nstrange jabbering, identical with that of the apes, broke from Meriem's\nlips.\n\nThe baboons stopped their snarling and listened.  It was quite evident\nthat they were as much surprised as the Hon. Morison Baynes.  Slowly\nand one by one they approached the girl.  She gave not the slightest\nevidence of fear of them.  They quite surrounded her now so that Baynes\ncould not have fired without endangering the girl's life; but he no\nlonger desired to fire.  He was consumed with curiosity.\n\nFor several minutes the girl carried on what could be nothing less than\na conversation with the baboons, and then with seeming alacrity every\narticle of her apparel in their possession was handed over to her.  The\nbaboons still crowded eagerly about her as she donned them.  They\nchattered to her and she chattered back.  The Hon. Morison Baynes sat\ndown at the foot of a tree and mopped his perspiring brow.  Then he\nrose and made his way back to his mount.\n\nWhen Meriem emerged from the forest a few minutes later she found him\nthere, and he eyed her with wide eyes in which were both wonder and a\nsort of terror.\n\n\"I saw your horse here,\" he explained, \"and thought that I would wait\nand ride home with you--you do not mind?\"\n\n\"Of course not,\" she replied.  \"It will be lovely.\"\n\nAs they made their way stirrup to stirrup across the plain the Hon.\nMorison caught himself many times watching the girl's regular profile\nand wondering if his eyes had deceived him or if, in truth, he really\nhad seen this lovely creature consorting with grotesque baboons and\nconversing with them as fluently as she conversed with him.  The thing\nwas uncanny--impossible; yet he had seen it with his own eyes.\n\nAnd as he watched her another thought persisted in obtruding itself\ninto his mind.  She was most beautiful and very desirable; but what did\nhe know of her?  Was she not altogether impossible?  Was the scene that\nhe had but just witnessed not sufficient proof of her impossibility?  A\nwoman who climbed trees and conversed with the baboons of the jungle!\nIt was quite horrible!\n\nAgain the Hon. Morison mopped his brow.  Meriem glanced toward him.\n\n\"You are warm,\" she said.  \"Now that the sun is setting I find it quite\ncool.  Why do you perspire now?\"\n\nHe had not intended to let her know that he had seen her with the\nbaboons; but quite suddenly, before he realized what he was saying, he\nhad blurted it out.\n\n\"I perspire from emotion,\" he said.  \"I went into the jungle when I\ndiscovered your pony.  I wanted to surprise you; but it was I who was\nsurprised.  I saw you in the trees with the baboons.\"\n\n\"Yes?\" she said quite unemotionally, as though it was a matter of\nlittle moment that a young girl should be upon intimate terms with\nsavage jungle beasts.\n\n\"It was horrible!\" ejaculated the Hon. Morison.\n\n\"Horrible?\" repeated Meriem, puckering her brows in bewilderment.\n\"What was horrible about it?  They are my friends. Is it horrible to\ntalk with one's friends?\"\n\n\"You were really talking with them, then?\" cried the Hon. Morison.\n\"You understood them and they understood you?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"But they are hideous creatures--degraded beasts of a lower order.  How\ncould you speak the language of beasts?\"\n\n\"They are not hideous, and they are not degraded,\" replied Meriem.\n\"Friends are never that.  I lived among them for years before Bwana\nfound me and brought me here.  I scarce knew any other tongue than that\nof the mangani.  Should I refuse to know them now simply because I\nhappen, for the present, to live among humans?\"\n\n\"For the present!\" ejaculated the Hon. Morison.  \"You cannot mean that\nyou expect to return to live among them?  Come, come, what foolishness\nare we talking!  The very idea!  You are spoofing me, Miss Meriem.  You\nhave been kind to these baboons here and they know you and do not\nmolest you; but that you once lived among them--no, that is\npreposterous.\"\n\n\"But I did, though,\" insisted the girl, seeing the real horror that the\nman felt in the presence of such an idea reflected in his tone and\nmanner, and rather enjoying baiting him still further.  \"Yes, I lived,\nalmost naked, among the great apes and the lesser apes.  I dwelt among\nthe branches of the trees.  I pounced upon the smaller prey and\ndevoured it--raw.  With Korak and A'ht I hunted the antelope and the\nboar, and I sat upon a tree limb and made faces at Numa, the lion, and\nthrew sticks at him and annoyed him until he roared so terribly in his\nrage that the earth shook.\n\n\"And Korak built me a lair high among the branches of a mighty tree.\nHe brought me fruits and flesh.  He fought for me and was kind to\nme--until I came to Bwana and My Dear I do not recall that any other\nthan Korak was ever kind to me.\"  There was a wistful note in the\ngirl's voice now and she had forgotten that she was bantering the Hon.\nMorison.  She was thinking of Korak.  She had not thought of him a\ngreat deal of late.\n\nFor a time both were silently absorbed in their own reflections as they\nrode on toward the bungalow of their host.  The girl was thinking of a\ngod-like figure, a leopard skin half concealing his smooth, brown hide\nas he leaped nimbly through the trees to lay an offering of food before\nher on his return from a successful hunt.  Behind him, shaggy and\npowerful, swung a huge anthropoid ape, while she, Meriem, laughing and\nshouting her welcome, swung upon a swaying limb before the entrance to\nher sylvan bower.  It was a pretty picture as she recalled it.  The\nother side seldom obtruded itself upon her memory--the long, black\nnights--the chill, terrible jungle nights--the cold and damp and\ndiscomfort of the rainy season--the hideous mouthings of the savage\ncarnivora as they prowled through the Stygian darkness beneath--the\nconstant menace of Sheeta, the panther, and Histah, the snake--the\nstinging insects--the loathesome vermin.  For, in truth, all these had\nbeen outweighed by the happiness of the sunny days, the freedom of it\nall, and, most, the companionship of Korak.\n\nThe man's thoughts were rather jumbled.  He had suddenly realized that\nhe had come mighty near falling in love with this girl of whom he had\nknown nothing up to the previous moment when she had voluntarily\nrevealed a portion of her past to him.  The more he thought upon the\nmatter the more evident it became to him that he had given her his\nlove--that he had been upon the verge of offering her his honorable\nname.  He trembled a little at the narrowness of his escape.  Yet, he\nstill loved her.  There was no objection to that according to the\nethics of the Hon. Morison Baynes and his kind.  She was a meaner clay\nthan he.  He could no more have taken her in marriage than he could\nhave taken one of her baboon friends, nor would she, of course, expect\nsuch an offer from him.  To have his love would be sufficient honor for\nher--his name he would, naturally, bestow upon one in his own elevated\nsocial sphere.\n\nA girl who had consorted with apes, who, according to her own\nadmission, had lived almost naked among them, could have no\nconsiderable sense of the finer qualities of virtue.  The love that he\nwould offer her, then, would, far from offending her, probably cover\nall that she might desire or expect.\n\nThe more the Hon. Morison Baynes thought upon the subject the more\nfully convinced he became that he was contemplating a most chivalrous\nand unselfish act.  Europeans will better understand his point of view\nthan Americans, poor, benighted provincials, who are denied a true\nappreciation of caste and of the fact that \"the king can do no wrong.\"\nHe did not even have to argue the point that she would be much happier\namidst the luxuries of a London apartment, fortified as she would be by\nboth his love and his bank account, than lawfully wed to such a one as\nher social position warranted.  There was one question however, which\nhe wished to have definitely answered before he committed himself even\nto the program he was considering.\n\n\"Who were Korak and A'ht?\" he asked.\n\n\"A'ht was a Mangani,\" replied Meriem, \"and Korak a Tarmangani.\"\n\n\"And what, pray, might a Mangani be, and a Tarmangani?\"\n\nThe girl laughed.\n\n\"You are a Tarmangani,\" she replied.  \"The Mangani are covered with\nhair--you would call them apes.\"\n\n\"Then Korak was a white man?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And he was--ah--your--er--your--?\"  He paused, for he found it rather\ndifficult to go on with that line of questioning while the girl's\nclear, beautiful eyes were looking straight into his.\n\n\"My what?\" insisted Meriem, far too unsophisticated in her unspoiled\ninnocence to guess what the Hon. Morison was driving at.\n\n\"Why--ah--your brother?\" he stumbled.\n\n\"No, Korak was not my brother,\" she replied.\n\n\"Was he your husband, then?\" he finally blurted.\n\nFar from taking offense, Meriem broke into a merry laugh.\n\n\"My husband!\" she cried.  \"Why how old do you think I am?  I am too\nyoung to have a husband.  I had never thought of such a thing.  Korak\nwas--why--,\" and now she hesitated, too, for she never before had\nattempted to analyse the relationship that existed between herself and\nKorak--\"why, Korak was just Korak,\" and again she broke into a gay\nlaugh as she realized the illuminating quality of her description.\n\nLooking at her and listening to her the man beside her could not\nbelieve that depravity of any sort or degree entered into the girl's\nnature, yet he wanted to believe that she had not been virtuous, for\notherwise his task was less a sinecure--the Hon.  Morison was not\nentirely without conscience.\n\nFor several days the Hon. Morison made no appreciable progress toward\nthe consummation of his scheme.  Sometimes he almost abandoned it for\nhe found himself time and again wondering how slight might be the\nprovocation necessary to trick him into making a bona-fide offer of\nmarriage to Meriem if he permitted himself to fall more deeply in love\nwith her, and it was difficult to see her daily and not love her.\nThere was a quality about her which, all unknown to the Hon. Morison,\nwas making his task an extremely difficult one--it was that quality of\ninnate goodness and cleanness which is a good girl's stoutest bulwark\nand protection--an impregnable barrier that only degeneracy has the\neffrontery to assail.  The Hon. Morison Baynes would never be\nconsidered a degenerate.\n\nHe was sitting with Meriem upon the verandah one evening after the\nothers had retired.  Earlier they had been playing tennis--a game in\nwhich the Hon. Morison shone to advantage, as, in truth, he did in most\nall manly sports.  He was telling Meriem stories of London and Paris,\nof balls and banquets, of the wonderful women and their wonderful\ngowns, of the pleasures and pastimes of the rich and powerful.  The\nHon. Morison was a past master in the art of insidious boasting.  His\negotism was never flagrant or tiresome--he was never crude in it, for\ncrudeness was a plebeianism that the Hon. Morison studiously avoided,\nyet the impression derived by a listener to the Hon. Morison was one\nthat was not at all calculated to detract from the glory of the house\nof Baynes, or from that of its representative.\n\nMeriem was entranced.  His tales were like fairy stories to this little\njungle maid.  The Hon. Morison loomed large and wonderful and\nmagnificent in her mind's eye.  He fascinated her, and when he drew\ncloser to her after a short silence and took her hand she thrilled as\none might thrill beneath the touch of a deity--a thrill of exaltation\nnot unmixed with fear.\n\nHe bent his lips close to her ear.\n\n\"Meriem!\" he whispered.  \"My little Meriem!  May I hope to have the\nright to call you 'my little Meriem'?\"\n\nThe girl turned wide eyes upward to his face; but it was in shadow.\nShe trembled but she did not draw away.  The man put an arm about her\nand drew her closer.\n\n\"I love you!\" he whispered.\n\nShe did not reply.  She did not know what to say.  She knew nothing of\nlove.  She had never given it a thought; but she did know that it was\nvery nice to be loved, whatever it meant.  It was nice to have people\nkind to one.  She had known so little of kindness or affection.\n\n\"Tell me,\" he said, \"that you return my love.\"\n\nHis lips came steadily closer to hers.  They had almost touched when a\nvision of Korak sprang like a miracle before her eyes.  She saw Korak's\nface close to hers, she felt his lips hot against hers, and then for\nthe first time in her life she guessed what love meant.  She drew away,\ngently.\n\n\"I am not sure,\" she said, \"that I love you.  Let us wait.  There is\nplenty of time.  I am too young to marry yet, and I am not sure that I\nshould be happy in London or Paris--they rather frighten me.\"\n\nHow easily and naturally she had connected his avowal of love with the\nidea of marriage!  The Hon. Morison was perfectly sure that he had not\nmentioned marriage--he had been particularly careful not to do so.  And\nthen she was not sure that she loved him!  That, too, came rather in\nthe nature of a shock to his vanity.  It seemed incredible that this\nlittle barbarian should have any doubts whatever as to the desirability\nof the Hon. Morison Baynes.\n\nThe first flush of passion cooled, the Hon. Morison was enabled to\nreason more logically.  The start had been all wrong.  It would be\nbetter now to wait and prepare her mind gradually for the only\nproposition which his exalted estate would permit him to offer her.  He\nwould go slow.  He glanced down at the girl's profile.  It was bathed\nin the silvery light of the great tropic moon.  The Hon.  Morison\nBaynes wondered if it were to be so easy a matter to \"go slow.\"  She\nwas most alluring.\n\nMeriem rose.  The vision of Korak was still before her.\n\n\"Good night,\" she said.  \"It is almost too beautiful to leave,\" she\nwaved her hand in a comprehensive gesture which took in the starry\nheavens, the great moon, the broad, silvered plain, and the dense\nshadows in the distance, that marked the jungle.  \"Oh, how I love it!\"\n\n\"You would love London more,\" he said earnestly.  \"And London would\nlove you.  You would be a famous beauty in any capital of Europe.  You\nwould have the world at your feet, Meriem.\"\n\n\"Good night!\" she repeated, and left him.\n\nThe Hon. Morison selected a cigarette from his crested case, lighted\nit, blew a thin line of blue smoke toward the moon, and smiled.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 18\n\n\nMeriem and Bwana were sitting on the verandah together the following\nday when a horseman appeared in the distance riding across the plain\ntoward the bungalow.  Bwana shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed out\ntoward the oncoming rider.  He was puzzled.  Strangers were few in\nCentral Africa.  Even the blacks for a distance of many miles in every\ndirection were well known to him.  No white man came within a hundred\nmiles that word of his coming did not reach Bwana long before the\nstranger.  His every move was reported to the big Bwana--just what\nanimals he killed and how many of each species, how he killed them,\ntoo, for Bwana would not permit the use of prussic acid or strychnine;\nand how he treated his \"boys.\"\n\nSeveral European sportsmen had been turned back to the coast by the big\nEnglishman's orders because of unwarranted cruelty to their black\nfollowers, and one, whose name had long been heralded in civilized\ncommunities as that of a great sportsman, was driven from Africa with\norders never to return when Bwana found that his big bag of fourteen\nlions had been made by the diligent use of poisoned bait.\n\nThe result was that all good sportsmen and all the natives loved and\nrespected him.  His word was law where there had never been law before.\nThere was scarce a head man from coast to coast who would not heed the\nbig Bwana's commands in preference to those of the hunters who employed\nthem, and so it was easy to turn back any undesirable stranger--Bwana\nhad simply to threaten to order his boys to desert him.\n\nBut there was evidently one who had slipped into the country\nunheralded.  Bwana could not imagine who the approaching horseman might\nbe.  After the manner of frontier hospitality the globe round he met\nthe newcomer at the gate, welcoming him even before he had dismounted.\nHe saw a tall, well knit man of thirty or over, blonde of hair and\nsmooth shaven.  There was a tantalizing familiarity about him that\nconvinced Bwana that he should be able to call the visitor by name, yet\nhe was unable to do so.  The newcomer was evidently of Scandinavian\norigin--both his appearance and accent denoted that.  His manner was\nrough but open.  He made a good impression upon the Englishman, who was\nwont to accept strangers in this wild and savage country at their own\nvaluation, asking no questions and assuming the best of them until they\nproved themselves undeserving of his friendship and hospitality.\n\n\"It is rather unusual that a white man comes unheralded,\" he said, as\nthey walked together toward the field into which he had suggested that\nthe traveler might turn his pony.  \"My friends, the natives, keep us\nrather well-posted.\"\n\n\"It is probably due to the fact that I came from the south,\" explained\nthe stranger, \"that you did not hear of my coming.  I have seen no\nvillage for several marches.\"\n\n\"No, there are none to the south of us for many miles,\" replied Bwana.\n\"Since Kovudoo deserted his country I rather doubt that one could find\na native in that direction under two or three hundred miles.\"\n\nBwana was wondering how a lone white man could have made his way\nthrough the savage, unhospitable miles that lay toward the south.  As\nthough guessing what must be passing through the other's mind, the\nstranger vouchsafed an explanation.\n\n\"I came down from the north to do a little trading and hunting,\" he\nsaid, \"and got way off the beaten track.  My head man, who was the only\nmember of the safari who had ever before been in the country, took sick\nand died.  We could find no natives to guide us, and so I simply swung\nback straight north.  We have been living on the fruits of our guns for\nover a month.  Didn't have an idea there was a white man within a\nthousand miles of us when we camped last night by a water hole at the\nedge of the plain.  This morning I started out to hunt and saw the\nsmoke from your chimney, so I sent my gun bearer back to camp with the\ngood news and rode straight over here myself.  Of course I've heard of\nyou--everybody who comes into Central Africa does--and I'd be mighty\nglad of permission to rest up and hunt around here for a couple of\nweeks.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" replied Bwana.  \"Move your camp up close to the river\nbelow my boys' camp and make yourself at home.\"\n\nThey had reached the verandah now and Bwana was introducing the\nstranger to Meriem and My Dear, who had just come from the bungalow's\ninterior.\n\n\"This is Mr. Hanson,\" he said, using the name the man had given him.\n\"He is a trader who has lost his way in the jungle to the south.\"\n\nMy Dear and Meriem bowed their acknowledgments of the introduction.\nThe man seemed rather ill at ease in their presence.  His host\nattributed this to the fact that his guest was unaccustomed to the\nsociety of cultured women, and so found a pretext to quickly extricate\nhim from his seemingly unpleasant position and lead him away to his\nstudy and the brandy and soda which were evidently much less\nembarrassing to Mr. Hanson.\n\nWhen the two had left them Meriem turned toward My Dear.\n\n\"It is odd,\" she said, \"but I could almost swear that I had known Mr.\nHanson in the past.  It is odd, but quite impossible,\" and she gave the\nmatter no further thought.\n\nHanson did not accept Bwana's invitation to move his camp closer to the\nbungalow.  He said his boys were inclined to be quarrelsome, and so\nwere better off at a distance; and he, himself, was around but little,\nand then always avoided coming into contact with the ladies.  A fact\nwhich naturally aroused only laughing comment on the rough trader's\nbashfulness.  He accompanied the men on several hunting trips where\nthey found him perfectly at home and well versed in all the finer\npoints of big game hunting.  Of an evening he often spent much time\nwith the white foreman of the big farm, evidently finding in the\nsociety of this rougher man more common interests than the cultured\nguests of Bwana possessed for him.  So it came that his was a familiar\nfigure about the premises by night.  He came and went as he saw fit,\noften wandering along in the great flower garden that was the especial\npride and joy of My Dear and Meriem.  The first time that he had been\nsurprised there he apologized gruffly, explaining that he had always\nbeen fond of the good old blooms of northern Europe which My Dear had\nso successfully transplanted in African soil.\n\nWas it, though, the ever beautiful blossoms of hollyhocks and phlox\nthat drew him to the perfumed air of the garden, or that other\ninfinitely more beautiful flower who wandered often among the blooms\nbeneath the great moon--the black-haired, suntanned Meriem?\n\nFor three weeks Hanson had remained.  During this time he said that his\nboys were resting and gaining strength after their terrible ordeals in\nthe untracked jungle to the south; but he had not been as idle as he\nappeared to have been.  He divided his small following into two\nparties, entrusting the leadership of each to men whom he believed that\nhe could trust.  To them he explained his plans and the rich reward\nthat they would win from him if they carried his designs to a\nsuccessful conclusion.  One party he moved very slowly northward along\nthe trail that connects with the great caravan routes entering the\nSahara from the south.  The other he ordered straight westward with\norders to halt and go into permanent camp just beyond the great river\nwhich marks the natural boundary of the country that the big Bwana\nrightfully considers almost his own.\n\nTo his host he explained that he was moving his safari slowly toward\nthe north--he said nothing of the party moving westward.  Then, one\nday, he announced that half his boys had deserted, for a hunting party\nfrom the bungalow had come across his northerly camp and he feared that\nthey might have noticed the reduced numbers of his following.\n\nAnd thus matters stood when, one hot night, Meriem, unable to sleep,\nrose and wandered out into the garden.  The Hon.  Morison had been\nurging his suit once more that evening, and the girl's mind was in such\na turmoil that she had been unable to sleep.\n\nThe wide heavens about her seemed to promise a greater freedom from\ndoubt and questioning.  Baynes had urged her to tell him that she loved\nhim.  A dozen times she thought that she might honestly give him the\nanswer that he demanded.  Korak fast was becoming but a memory.  That\nhe was dead she had come to believe, since otherwise he would have\nsought her out.  She did not know that he had even better reason to\nbelieve her dead, and that it was because of that belief he had made no\neffort to find her after his raid upon the village of Kovudoo.\n\nBehind a great flowering shrub Hanson lay gazing at the stars and\nwaiting.  He had lain thus and there many nights before.  For what was\nhe waiting, or for whom?  He heard the girl approaching, and half\nraised himself to his elbow.  A dozen paces away, the reins looped over\na fence post, stood his pony.\n\nMeriem, walking slowly, approached the bush behind which the waiter\nlay.  Hanson drew a large bandanna handkerchief from his pocket and\nrose stealthily to his knees.  A pony neighed down at the corrals.  Far\nout across the plain a lion roared.  Hanson changed his position until\nhe squatted upon both feet, ready to come erect quickly.\n\nAgain the pony neighed--this time closer.  There was the sound of his\nbody brushing against shrubbery.  Hanson heard and wondered how the\nanimal had gotten from the corral, for it was evident that he was\nalready in the garden.  The man turned his head in the direction of the\nbeast.  What he saw sent him to the ground, huddled close beneath the\nshrubbery--a man was coming, leading two ponies.\n\nMeriem heard now and stopped to look and listen.  A moment later the\nHon. Morison Baynes drew near, the two saddled mounts at his heels.\n\nMeriem looked up at him in surprise.  The Hon. Morison grinned\nsheepishly.\n\n\"I couldn't sleep,\" he explained, \"and was going for a bit of a ride\nwhen I chanced to see you out here, and I thought you'd like to join\nme.  Ripping good sport, you know, night riding.  Come on.\"\n\nMeriem laughed.  The adventure appealed to her.\n\n\"All right,\" she said.\n\nHanson swore beneath his breath.  The two led their horses from the\ngarden to the gate and through it.  There they discovered Hanson's\nmount.\n\n\"Why here's the trader's pony,\" remarked Baynes.\n\n\"He's probably down visiting with the foreman,\" said Meriem.\n\n\"Pretty late for him, isn't it?\" remarked the Hon. Morison.  \"I'd hate\nto have to ride back through that jungle at night to his camp.\"\n\nAs though to give weight to his apprehensions the distant lion roared\nagain.  The Hon. Morison shivered and glanced at the girl to note the\neffect of the uncanny sound upon her.  She appeared not to have noticed\nit.\n\nA moment later the two had mounted and were moving slowly across the\nmoon-bathed plain.  The girl turned her pony's head straight toward the\njungle.  It was in the direction of the roaring of the hungry lion.\n\n\"Hadn't we better steer clear of that fellow?\" suggested the Hon.\nMorison.  \"I guess you didn't hear him.\"\n\n\"Yes, I heard him,\" laughed Meriem.  \"Let's ride over and call on him.\"\n\nThe Hon. Morison laughed uneasily.  He didn't care to appear at a\ndisadvantage before this girl, nor did he care, either, to approach a\nhungry lion too closely at night.  He carried his rifle in his saddle\nboot; but moonlight is an uncertain light to shoot by, nor ever had he\nfaced a lion alone--even by day.  The thought gave him a distinct\nnausea.  The beast ceased his roaring now.  They heard him no more and\nthe Hon. Morison gained courage accordingly.  They were riding down\nwind toward the jungle.  The lion lay in a little swale to their right.\nHe was old.  For two nights he had not fed, for no longer was his\ncharge as swift or his spring as mighty as in the days of his prime\nwhen he spread terror among the creatures of his wild domain.  For two\nnights and days he had gone empty, and for long time before that he had\nfed only upon carrion.  He was old; but he was yet a terrible engine of\ndestruction.\n\nAt the edge of the forest the Hon. Morison drew rein.  He had no desire\nto go further.  Numa, silent upon his padded feet, crept into the\njungle beyond them.  The wind, now, was blowing gently between him and\nhis intended prey.  He had come a long way in search of man, for even\nin his youth he had tasted human flesh and while it was poor stuff by\ncomparison with eland and zebra it was less difficult to kill.  In\nNuma's estimation man was a slow-witted, slow-footed creature which\ncommanded no respect unless accompanied by the acrid odor which spelled\nto the monarch's sensitive nostrils the great noise and the blinding\nflash of an express rifle.\n\nHe caught the dangerous scent tonight; but he was ravenous to madness.\nHe would face a dozen rifles, if necessary, to fill his empty belly.\nHe circled about into the forest that he might again be down wind from\nhis victims, for should they get his scent he could not hope to\novertake them.  Numa was famished; but he was old and crafty.\n\nDeep in the jungle another caught faintly the scent of man and of Numa\nboth.  He raised his head and sniffed.  He cocked it upon one side and\nlistened.\n\n\"Come on,\" said Meriem, \"let's ride in a way--the forest is wonderful\nat night.  It is open enough to permit us to ride.\"\n\nThe Hon. Morison hesitated.  He shrank from revealing his fear in the\npresence of the girl.  A braver man, sure of his own position, would\nhave had the courage to have refused uselessly to expose the girl to\ndanger.  He would not have thought of himself at all; but the egotism\nof the Hon. Morison required that he think always of self first.  He\nhad planned the ride to get Meriem away from the bungalow.  He wanted\nto talk to her alone and far enough away so should she take offense at\nhis purposed suggestion he would have time in which to attempt to right\nhimself in her eyes before they reached home.  He had little doubt, of\ncourse, but that he should succeed; but it is to his credit that he did\nhave some slight doubts.\n\n\"You needn't be afraid of the lion,\" said Meriem, noting his slight\nhesitancy.  \"There hasn't been a man eater around here for two years,\nBwana says, and the game is so plentiful that there is no necessity to\ndrive Numa to human flesh.  Then, he has been so often hunted that he\nrather keeps out of man's way.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm not afraid of lions,\" replied the Hon. Morison.  \"I was just\nthinking what a beastly uncomfortable place a forest is to ride in.\nWhat with the underbrush and the low branches and all that, you know,\nit's not exactly cut out for pleasure riding.\"\n\n\"Let's go a-foot then,\" suggested Meriem, and started to dismount.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" cried the Hon. Morison, aghast at this suggestion.  \"Let's\nride,\" and he reined his pony into the dark shadows of the wood.\nBehind him came Meriem and in front, prowling ahead waiting a favorable\nopportunity, skulked Numa, the lion.\n\nOut upon the plain a lone horseman muttered a low curse as he saw the\ntwo disappear from sight.  It was Hanson.  He had followed them from\nthe bungalow.  Their way led in the direction of his camp, so he had a\nready and plausible excuse should they discover him; but they had not\nseen him for they had not turned their eyes behind.\n\nNow he turned directly toward the spot at which they had entered the\njungle.  He no longer cared whether he was observed or not.  There were\ntwo reasons for his indifference.  The first was that he saw in Baynes'\nact a counterpart of his own planned abduction of the girl.  In some\nway he might turn the thing to his own purposes.  At least he would\nkeep in touch with them and make sure that Baynes did not get her.  His\nother reason was based on his knowledge of an event that had transpired\nat his camp the previous night--an event which he had not mentioned at\nthe bungalow for fear of drawing undesired attention to his movements\nand bringing the blacks of the big Bwana into dangerous intercourse\nwith his own boys.  He had told at the bungalow that half his men had\ndeserted.  That story might be quickly disproved should his boys and\nBwana's grow confidential.\n\nThe event that he had failed to mention and which now urged him\nhurriedly after the girl and her escort had occurred during his absence\nearly the preceding evening.  His men had been sitting around their\ncamp fire, entirely encircled by a high, thorn boma, when, without the\nslightest warning, a huge lion had leaped amongst them and seized one\nof their number.  It had been solely due to the loyalty and courage of\nhis comrades that his life had been saved, and then only after a battle\nroyal with the hunger-enraged beast had they been able to drive him off\nwith burning brands, spears, and rifles.\n\nFrom this Hanson knew that a man eater had wandered into the district\nor been developed by the aging of one of the many lions who ranged the\nplains and hills by night, or lay up in the cool wood by day.  He had\nheard the roaring of a hungry lion not half an hour before, and there\nwas little doubt in his mind but that the man eater was stalking Meriem\nand Baynes.  He cursed the Englishman for a fool, and spurred rapidly\nafter them.\n\nMeriem and Baynes had drawn up in a small, natural clearing.  A hundred\nyards beyond them Numa lay crouching in the underbrush, his\nyellow-green eyes fixed upon his prey, the tip of his sinuous tail\njerking spasmodically.  He was measuring the distance between him and\nthem.  He was wondering if he dared venture a charge, or should he wait\nyet a little longer in the hope that they might ride straight into his\njaws.  He was very hungry; but also was he very crafty.  He could not\nchance losing his meat by a hasty and ill-considered rush.  Had he\nwaited the night before until the blacks slept he would not have been\nforced to go hungry for another twenty-four hours.\n\nBehind him the other that had caught his scent and that of man together\ncame to a sitting posture upon the branch of a tree in which he had\nreposed himself for slumber.  Beneath him a lumbering gray hulk swayed\nto and fro in the darkness.  The beast in the tree uttered a low\nguttural and dropped to the back of the gray mass.  He whispered a word\nin one of the great ears and Tantor, the elephant, raised his trunk\naloft, swinging it high and low to catch the scent that the word had\nwarned him of.  There was another whispered word--was it a\ncommand?--and the lumbering beast wheeled into an awkward, yet silent\nshuffle, in the direction of Numa, the lion, and the stranger\nTarmangani his rider had scented.\n\nOnward they went, the scent of the lion and his prey becoming stronger\nand stronger.  Numa was becoming impatient.  How much longer must he\nwait for his meat to come his way?  He lashed his tail viciously now.\nHe almost growled.  All unconscious of their danger the man and the\ngirl sat talking in the little clearing.\n\nTheir horses were pressed side by side.  Baynes had found Meriem's hand\nand was pressing it as he poured words of love into her ear, and Meriem\nwas listening.\n\n\"Come to London with me,\" urged the Hon. Morison.  \"I can gather a\nsafari and we can be a whole day upon the way to the coast before they\nguess that we have gone.\"\n\n\"Why must we go that way?\" asked the girl.  \"Bwana and My Dear would\nnot object to our marriage.\"\n\n\"I cannot marry you just yet,\" explained the Hon. Morison, \"there are\nsome formalities to be attended to first--you do not understand.  It\nwill be all right.  We will go to London.  I cannot wait.  If you love\nme you will come.  What of the apes you lived with?  Did they bother\nabout marriage?  They love as we love.  Had you stayed among them you\nwould have mated as they mate.  It is the law of nature--no man-made\nlaw can abrogate the laws of God.  What difference does it make if we\nlove one another?  What do we care for anyone in the world besides\nourselves?  I would give my life for you--will you give nothing for me?\"\n\n\"You love me?\" she said.  \"You will marry me when we have reached\nLondon?\"\n\n\"I swear it,\" he cried.\n\n\"I will go with you,\" she whispered, \"though I do not understand why it\nis necessary.\"  She leaned toward him and he took her in his arms and\nbent to press his lips to hers.\n\nAt the same instant the head of a huge tusker poked through the trees\nthat fringed the clearing.  The Hon. Morison and Meriem, with eyes and\nears for one another alone, did not see or hear; but Numa did.  The man\nupon Tantor's broad head saw the girl in the man's arms.  It was Korak;\nbut in the trim figure of the neatly garbed girl he did not recognize\nhis Meriem.  He only saw a Tarmangani with his she.  And then Numa\ncharged.\n\nWith a frightful roar, fearful lest Tantor had come to frighten away\nhis prey, the great beast leaped from his hiding place.  The earth\ntrembled to his mighty voice.  The ponies stood for an instant\ntransfixed with terror.  The Hon. Morison Baynes went white and cold.\nThe lion was charging toward them full in the brilliant light of the\nmagnificent moon.  The muscles of the Hon.  Morison no longer obeyed\nhis will--they flexed to the urge of a greater power--the power of\nNature's first law.  They drove his spurred heels deep into his pony's\nflanks, they bore the rein against the brute's neck that wheeled him\nwith an impetuous drive toward the plain and safety.\n\nThe girl's pony, squealing in terror, reared and plunged upon the heels\nof his mate.  The lion was close upon him.  Only the girl was cool--the\ngirl and the half-naked savage who bestrode the neck of his mighty\nmount and grinned at the exciting spectacle chance had staked for his\nenjoyment.\n\nTo Korak here were but two strange Tarmangani pursued by Numa, who was\nempty.  It was Numa's right to prey; but one was a she.  Korak felt an\nintuitive urge to rush to her protection.  Why, he could not guess.\nAll Tarmangani were enemies now.  He had lived too long a beast to feel\nstrongly the humanitarian impulses that were inherent in him--yet feel\nthem he did, for the girl at least.\n\nHe urged Tantor forward.  He raised his heavy spear and hurled it at\nthe flying target of the lion's body.  The girl's pony had reached the\ntrees upon the opposite side of the clearing.  Here he would become\neasy prey to the swiftly moving lion; but Numa, infuriated, preferred\nthe woman upon his back.  It was for her he leaped.\n\nKorak gave an exclamation of astonishment and approval as Numa landed\nupon the pony's rump and at the same instant the girl swung free of her\nmount to the branches of a tree above her.\n\nKorak's spear struck Numa in the shoulder, knocking him from his\nprecarious hold upon the frantically plunging horse.  Freed of the\nweight of both girl and lion the pony raced ahead toward safety.  Numa\ntore and struck at the missile in his shoulder but could not dislodge\nit.  Then he resumed the chase.\n\nKorak guided Tantor into the seclusion of the jungle.  He did not wish\nto be seen, nor had he.\n\nHanson had almost reached the wood when he heard the lion's terrific\nroars, and knew that the charge had come.  An instant later the Hon.\nMorison broke upon his vision, racing like mad for safety.  The man lay\nflat upon his pony's back hugging the animal's neck tightly with both\narms and digging the spurs into his sides.  An instant later the second\npony appeared--riderless.\n\nHanson groaned as he guessed what had happened out of sight in the\njungle.  With an oath he spurred on in the hope of driving the lion\nfrom his prey--his rifle was ready in his hand.  And then the lion came\ninto view behind the girl's pony.  Hanson could not understand.  He\nknew that if Numa had succeeded in seizing the girl he would not have\ncontinued in pursuit of the others.\n\nHe drew in his own mount, took quick aim and fired.  The lion stopped\nin his tracks, turned and bit at his side, then rolled over dead.\nHanson rode on into the forest, calling aloud to the girl.\n\n\"Here I am,\" came a quick response from the foliage of the trees just\nahead.  \"Did you hit him?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Hanson.  \"Where are you?  You had a mighty narrow\nescape.  It will teach you to keep out of the jungle at night.\"\n\nTogether they returned to the plain where they found the Hon.  Morison\nriding slowly back toward them.  He explained that his pony had bolted\nand that he had had hard work stopping him at all.  Hanson grinned, for\nhe recalled the pounding heels that he had seen driving sharp spurs\ninto the flanks of Baynes' mount; but he said nothing of what he had\nseen.  He took Meriem up behind him and the three rode in silence\ntoward the bungalow.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 19\n\n\nBehind them Korak emerged from the jungle and recovered his spear from\nNuma's side.  He still was smiling.  He had enjoyed the spectacle\nexceedingly.  There was one thing that troubled him--the agility with\nwhich the she had clambered from her pony's back into the safety of the\ntree ABOVE her.  That was more like mangani--more like his lost Meriem.\nHe sighed.  His lost Meriem!  His little, dead Meriem!  He wondered if\nthis she stranger resembled his Meriem in other ways.  A great longing\nto see her overwhelmed him.  He looked after the three figures moving\nsteadily across the plain.  He wondered where might lie their\ndestination.  A desire to follow them came over him, but he only stood\nthere watching until they had disappeared in the distance.  The sight\nof the civilized girl and the dapper, khaki clad Englishman had aroused\nin Korak memories long dormant.\n\nOnce he had dreamed of returning to the world of such as these; but\nwith the death of Meriem hope and ambition seemed to have deserted him.\nHe cared now only to pass the remainder of his life in solitude, as far\nfrom man as possible.  With a sigh he turned slowly back into the\njungle.\n\nTantor, nervous by nature, had been far from reassured by close\nproximity to the three strange whites, and with the report of Hanson's\nrifle had turned and ambled away at his long, swinging shuffle.  He was\nnowhere in sight when Korak returned to look for him.  The ape-man,\nhowever, was little concerned by the absence of his friend.  Tantor had\na habit of wandering off unexpectedly.  For a month they might not see\none another, for Korak seldom took the trouble to follow the great\npachyderm, nor did he upon this occasion.  Instead he found a\ncomfortable perch in a large tree and was soon asleep.\n\nAt the bungalow Bwana had met the returning adventurers on the\nverandah.  In a moment of wakefulness he had heard the report of\nHanson's rifle far out across the plain, and wondered what it might\nmean.  Presently it had occurred to him that the man whom he considered\nin the light of a guest might have met with an accident on his way back\nto camp, so he had arisen and gone to his foreman's quarters where he\nhad learned that Hanson had been there earlier in the evening but had\ndeparted several hours before.  Returning from the foreman's quarters\nBwana had noticed that the corral gate was open and further\ninvestigation revealed the fact that Meriem's pony was gone and also\nthe one most often used by Baynes.  Instantly Bwana assumed that the\nshot had been fired by Hon. Morison, and had again aroused his foreman\nand was making preparations to set forth in investigation when he had\nseen the party approaching across the plain.\n\nExplanation on the part of the Englishman met a rather chilly reception\nfrom his host.  Meriem was silent.  She saw that Bwana was angry with\nher.  It was the first time and she was heart broken.\n\n\"Go to your room, Meriem,\" he said; \"and Baynes, if you will step into\nmy study, I'd like to have a word with you in a moment.\"\n\nHe stepped toward Hanson as the others turned to obey him.  There was\nsomething about Bwana even in his gentlest moods that commanded instant\nobedience.\n\n\"How did you happen to be with them, Hanson?\" he asked.\n\n\"I'd been sitting in the garden,\" replied the trader, \"after leaving\nJervis' quarters.  I have a habit of doing that as your lady probably\nknows.  Tonight I fell asleep behind a bush, and was awakened by them\ntwo spooning.  I couldn't hear what they said, but presently Baynes\nbrings two ponies and they ride off.  I didn't like to interfere for it\nwasn't any of my business, but I knew they hadn't ought to be ridin'\nabout that time of night, leastways not the girl--it wasn't right and\nit wasn't safe.  So I follows them and it's just as well I did.  Baynes\nwas gettin' away from the lion as fast as he could, leavin' the girl to\ntake care of herself, when I got a lucky shot into the beast's shoulder\nthat fixed him.\"\n\nHanson paused.  Both men were silent for a time.  Presently the trader\ncoughed in an embarrassed manner as though there was something on his\nmind he felt in duty bound to say, but hated to.\n\n\"What is it, Hanson?\" asked Bwana.  \"You were about to say something\nweren't you?\"\n\n\"Well, you see it's like this,\" ventured Hanson.  \"Bein' around here\nevenings a good deal I've seen them two together a lot, and, beggin'\nyour pardon, sir, but I don't think Mr. Baynes means the girl any good.\nI've overheard enough to make me think he's tryin' to get her to run\noff with him.\"  Hanson, to fit his own ends, hit nearer the truth than\nhe knew.  He was afraid that Baynes would interfere with his own plans,\nand he had hit upon a scheme to both utilize the young Englishman and\nget rid of him at the same time.\n\n\"And I thought,\" continued the trader, \"that inasmuch as I'm about due\nto move you might like to suggest to Mr. Baynes that he go with me.\nI'd be willin' to take him north to the caravan trails as a favor to\nyou, sir.\"\n\nBwana stood in deep thought for a moment.  Presently he looked up.\n\n\"Of course, Hanson, Mr. Baynes is my guest,\" he said, a grim twinkle in\nhis eye.  \"Really I cannot accuse him of planning to run away with\nMeriem on the evidence that we have, and as he is my guest I should\nhate to be so discourteous as to ask him to leave; but, if I recall his\nwords correctly, it seems to me that he has spoken of returning home,\nand I am sure that nothing would delight him more than going north with\nyou--you say you start tomorrow?  I think Mr. Baynes will accompany\nyou.  Drop over in the morning, if you please, and now good night, and\nthank you for keeping a watchful eye on Meriem.\"\n\nHanson hid a grin as he turned and sought his saddle.  Bwana stepped\nfrom the verandah to his study, where he found the Hon. Morison pacing\nback and forth, evidently very ill at ease.\n\n\"Baynes,\" said Bwana, coming directly to the point, \"Hanson is leaving\nfor the north tomorrow.  He has taken a great fancy to you, and just\nasked me to say to you that he'd be glad to have you accompany him.\nGood night, Baynes.\"\n\nAt Bwana's suggestion Meriem kept to her room the following morning\nuntil after the Hon. Morison Baynes had departed.  Hanson had come for\nhim early--in fact he had remained all night with the foreman, Jervis,\nthat they might get an early start.\n\nThe farewell exchanges between the Hon. Morison and his host were of\nthe most formal type, and when at last the guest rode away Bwana\nbreathed a sigh of relief.  It had been an unpleasant duty and he was\nglad that it was over; but he did not regret his action.  He had not\nbeen blind to Baynes' infatuation for Meriem, and knowing the young\nman's pride in caste he had never for a moment believed that his guest\nwould offer his name to this nameless Arab girl, for, extremely light\nin color though she was for a full blood Arab, Bwana believed her to be\nsuch.\n\nHe did not mention the subject again to Meriem, and in this he made a\nmistake, for the young girl, while realizing the debt of gratitude she\nowed Bwana and My Dear, was both proud and sensitive, so that Bwana's\naction in sending Baynes away and giving her no opportunity to explain\nor defend hurt and mortified her.  Also it did much toward making a\nmartyr of Baynes in her eyes and arousing in her breast a keen feeling\nof loyalty toward him.\n\nWhat she had half-mistaken for love before, she now wholly mistook for\nlove.  Bwana and My Dear might have told her much of the social\nbarriers that they only too well knew Baynes must feel existed between\nMeriem and himself, but they hesitated to wound her.  It would have\nbeen better had they inflicted this lesser sorrow, and saved the child\nthe misery that was to follow because of her ignorance.\n\nAs Hanson and Baynes rode toward the former's camp the Englishman\nmaintained a morose silence.  The other was attempting to formulate an\nopening that would lead naturally to the proposition he had in mind.\nHe rode a neck behind his companion, grinning as he noted the sullen\nscowl upon the other's patrician face.\n\n\"Rather rough on you, wasn't he?\" he ventured at last, jerking his head\nback in the direction of the bungalow as Baynes turned his eyes upon\nhim at the remark.  \"He thinks a lot of the girl,\" continued Hanson,\n\"and don't want nobody to marry her and take her away; but it looks to\nme as though he was doin' her more harm than good in sendin' you away.\nShe ought to marry some time, and she couldn't do better than a fine\nyoung gentleman like you.\"\n\nBaynes, who had at first felt inclined to take offense at the mention\nof his private affairs by this common fellow, was mollified by Hanson's\nfinal remark, and immediately commenced to see in him a man of fine\ndiscrimination.\n\n\"He's a darned bounder,\" grumbled the Hon. Morison; \"but I'll get even\nwith him.  He may be the whole thing in Central Africa but I'm as big\nas he is in London, and he'll find it out when he comes home.\"\n\n\"If I was you,\" said Hanson, \"I wouldn't let any man keep me from\ngettin' the girl I want.  Between you and me I ain't got no use for him\neither, and if I can help you any way just call on me.\"\n\n\"It's mighty good of you, Hanson,\" replied Baynes, warming up a bit;\n\"but what can a fellow do here in this God-forsaken hole?\"\n\n\"I know what I'd do,\" said Hanson.  \"I'd take the girl along with me.\nIf she loves you she'll go, all right.\"\n\n\"It can't be done,\" said Baynes.  \"He bosses this whole blooming\ncountry for miles around.  He'd be sure to catch us.\"\n\n\"No, he wouldn't, not with me running things,\" said Hanson.  \"I've been\ntrading and hunting here for ten years and I know as much about the\ncountry as he does.  If you want to take the girl along I'll help you,\nand I'll guarantee that there won't nobody catch up with us before we\nreach the coast.  I'll tell you what, you write her a note and I'll get\nit to her by my head man.  Ask her to meet you to say goodbye--she\nwon't refuse that.  In the meantime we can be movin' camp a little\nfurther north all the time and you can make arrangements with her to be\nall ready on a certain night.  Tell her I'll meet her then while you\nwait for us in camp.  That'll be better for I know the country well and\ncan cover it quicker than you.  You can take care of the safari and be\nmovin' along slow toward the north and the girl and I'll catch up to\nyou.\"\n\n\"But suppose she won't come?\" suggested Baynes.\n\n\"Then make another date for a last good-bye,\" said Hanson, \"and instead\nof you I'll be there and I'll bring her along anyway.  She'll have to\ncome, and after it's all over she won't feel so bad about\nit--especially after livin' with you for two months while we're makin'\nthe coast.\"\n\nA shocked and angry protest rose to Baynes' lips; but he did not utter\nit, for almost simultaneously came the realization that this was\npractically the same thing he had been planning upon himself.  It had\nsounded brutal and criminal from the lips of the rough trader; but\nnevertheless the young Englishman saw that with Hanson's help and his\nknowledge of African travel the possibilities of success would be much\ngreater than as though the Hon. Morison were to attempt the thing\nsingle handed.  And so he nodded a glum assent.\n\nThe balance of the long ride to Hanson's northerly camp was made in\nsilence, for both men were occupied with their own thoughts, most of\nwhich were far from being either complimentary or loyal to the other.\nAs they rode through the wood the sounds of their careless passage came\nto the ears of another jungle wayfarer.  The Killer had determined to\ncome back to the place where he had seen the white girl who took to the\ntrees with the ability of long habitude.  There was a compelling\nsomething in the recollection of her that drew him irresistibly toward\nher.  He wished to see her by the light of day, to see her features, to\nsee the color of her eyes and hair.  It seemed to him that she must\nbear a strong resemblance to his lost Meriem, and yet he knew that the\nchances were that she did not.  The fleeting glimpse that he had had of\nher in the moonlight as she swung from the back of her plunging pony\ninto the branches of the tree above her had shown him a girl of about\nthe same height as his Meriem; but of a more rounded and developed\nfemininity.\n\nNow he was moving lazily back in the direction of the spot where he had\nseen the girl when the sounds of the approaching horsemen came to his\nsharp ears.  He moved stealthily through the branches until he came\nwithin sight of the riders.  The younger man he instantly recognized as\nthe same he had seen with his arms about the girl in the moonlit glade\njust the instant before Numa charged.  The other he did not recognize\nthough there was a familiarity about his carriage and figure that\npuzzled Korak.\n\nThe ape-man decided that to find the girl again he would but have to\nkeep in touch with the young Englishman, and so he fell in behind the\npair, following them to Hanson's camp.  Here the Hon. Morison penned a\nbrief note, which Hanson gave into the keeping of one of his boys who\nstarted off forthwith toward the south.\n\nKorak remained in the vicinity of the camp, keeping a careful watch\nupon the Englishman.  He had half expected to find the girl at the\ndestination of the two riders and had been disappointed when no sign of\nher materialized about the camp.\n\nBaynes was restless, pacing back and forth beneath the trees when he\nshould have been resting against the forced marches of the coming\nflight.  Hanson lay in his hammock and smoked.  They spoke but little.\nKorak lay stretched upon a branch among the dense foliage above them.\nThus passed the balance of the afternoon.  Korak became hungry and\nthirsty.  He doubted that either of the men would leave camp now before\nmorning, so he withdrew, but toward the south, for there it seemed most\nlikely the girl still was.\n\nIn the garden beside the bungalow Meriem wandered thoughtfully in the\nmoonlight.  She still smarted from Bwana's, to her, unjust treatment of\nthe Hon. Morison Baynes.  Nothing had been explained to her, for both\nBwana and My Dear had wished to spare her the mortification and sorrow\nof the true explanation of Baynes' proposal.  They knew, as Meriem did\nnot, that the man had no intention of marrying her, else he would have\ncome directly to Bwana, knowing full well that no objection would be\ninterposed if Meriem really cared for him.\n\nMeriem loved them both and was grateful to them for all that they had\ndone for her; but deep in her little heart surged the savage love of\nliberty that her years of untrammeled freedom in the jungle had made\npart and parcel of her being.  Now, for the first time since she had\ncome to them, Meriem felt like a prisoner in the bungalow of Bwana and\nMy Dear.\n\nLike a caged tigress the girl paced the length of the enclosure.  Once\nshe paused near the outer fence, her head upon one side--listening.\nWhat was it she had heard?  The pad of naked human feet just beyond the\ngarden.  She listened for a moment.  The sound was not repeated.  Then\nshe resumed her restless walking.  Down to the opposite end of the\ngarden she passed, turned and retraced her steps toward the upper end.\nUpon the sward near the bushes that hid the fence, full in the glare of\nthe moonlight, lay a white envelope that had not been there when she\nhad turned almost upon the very spot a moment before.\n\nMeriem stopped short in her tracks, listening again, and sniffing--more\nthan ever the tigress; alert, ready.  Beyond the bushes a naked black\nrunner squatted, peering through the foliage.  He saw her take a step\ncloser to the letter.  She had seen it.  He rose quietly and following\nthe shadows of the bushes that ran down to the corral was soon gone\nfrom sight.\n\nMeriem's trained ears heard his every move.  She made no attempt to\nseek closer knowledge of his identity.  Already she had guessed that he\nwas a messenger from the Hon. Morison.  She stooped and picked up the\nenvelope.  Tearing it open she easily read the contents by the moon's\nbrilliant light.  It was, as she had guessed, from Baynes.\n\n\"I cannot go without seeing you again,\" it read.  \"Come to the clearing\nearly tomorrow morning and say good-bye to me.  Come alone.\"\n\nThere was a little more--words that made her heart beat faster and a\nhappy flush mount her cheek.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 20\n\n\nIt was still dark when the Hon. Morison Baynes set forth for the\ntrysting place.  He insisted upon having a guide, saying that he was\nnot sure that he could find his way back to the little clearing.  As a\nmatter of fact the thought of that lonely ride through the darkness\nbefore the sun rose had been too much for his courage, and he craved\ncompany.  A black, therefore, preceded him on foot.  Behind and above\nhim came Korak, whom the noise in the camp had awakened.\n\nIt was nine o'clock before Baynes drew rein in the clearing.  Meriem\nhad not yet arrived.  The black lay down to rest.  Baynes lolled in his\nsaddle.  Korak stretched himself comfortably upon a lofty limb, where\nhe could watch those beneath him without being seen.\n\nAn hour passed.  Baynes gave evidence of nervousness.  Korak had\nalready guessed that the young Englishman had come here to meet\nanother, nor was he at all in doubt as to the identity of that other.\nThe Killer was perfectly satisfied that he was soon again to see the\nnimble she who had so forcefully reminded him of Meriem.\n\nPresently the sound of an approaching horse came to Korak's ears.  She\nwas coming!  She had almost reached the clearing before Baynes became\naware of her presence, and then as he looked up, the foliage parted to\nthe head and shoulders of her mount and Meriem rode into view.  Baynes\nspurred to meet her.  Korak looked searchingly down upon her, mentally\nanathematizing the broad-brimmed hat that hid her features from his\neyes.  She was abreast the Englishman now.  Korak saw the man take both\nher hands and draw her close to his breast.  He saw the man's face\nconcealed for a moment beneath the same broad brim that hid the girl's.\nHe could imagine their lips meeting, and a twinge of sorrow and sweet\nrecollection combined to close his eyes for an instant in that\ninvoluntary muscular act with which we attempt to shut out from the\nmind's eye harrowing reflections.\n\nWhen he looked again they had drawn apart and were conversing\nearnestly.  Korak could see the man urging something.  It was equally\nevident that the girl was holding back.  There were many of her\ngestures, and the way in which she tossed her head up and to the right,\ntip-tilting her chin, that reminded Korak still more strongly of\nMeriem.  And then the conversation was over and the man took the girl\nin his arms again to kiss her good-bye.  She turned and rode toward the\npoint from which she had come.  The man sat on his horse watching her.\nAt the edge of the jungle she turned to wave him a final farewell.\n\n\"Tonight!\" she cried, throwing back her head as she called the words to\nhim across the little distance which separated them--throwing back her\nhead and revealing her face for the first time to the eyes of The\nKiller in the tree above.  Korak started as though pierced through the\nheart with an arrow.  He trembled and shook like a leaf.  He closed his\neyes, pressing his palms across them, and then he opened them again and\nlooked but the girl was gone--only the waving foliage of the jungle's\nrim marked where she had disappeared.  It was impossible!  It could not\nbe true!  And yet, with his own eyes he had seen his Meriem--older a\nlittle, with figure more rounded by nearer maturity, and subtly changed\nin other ways; more beautiful than ever, yet still his little Meriem.\nYes, he had seen the dead alive again; he had seen his Meriem in the\nflesh.  She lived!  She had not died!  He had seen her--he had seen his\nMeriem--IN THE ARMS OF ANOTHER MAN!  And that man sat below him now,\nwithin easy reach.  Korak, The Killer, fondled his heavy spear.  He\nplayed with the grass rope dangling from his gee-string.  He stroked\nthe hunting knife at his hip.  And the man beneath him called to his\ndrowsy guide, bent the rein to his pony's neck and moved off toward the\nnorth.  Still sat Korak, The Killer, alone among the trees.  Now his\nhands hung idly at his sides.  His weapons and what he had intended\nwere forgotten for the moment.  Korak was thinking.  He had noted that\nsubtle change in Meriem.  When last he had seen her she had been his\nlittle, half-naked Mangani--wild, savage, and uncouth.  She had not\nseemed uncouth to him then; but now, in the change that had come over\nher, he knew that such she had been; yet no more uncouth than he, and\nhe was still uncouth.\n\nIn her had taken place the change.  In her he had just seen a sweet and\nlovely flower of refinement and civilization, and he shuddered as he\nrecalled the fate that he himself had planned for her--to be the mate\nof an ape-man, his mate, in the savage jungle.  Then he had seen no\nwrong in it, for he had loved her, and the way he had planned had been\nthe way of the jungle which they two had chosen as their home; but now,\nafter having seen the Meriem of civilized attire, he realized the\nhideousness of his once cherished plan, and he thanked God that chance\nand the blacks of Kovudoo had thwarted him.\n\nYet he still loved her, and jealousy seared his soul as he recalled the\nsight of her in the arms of the dapper young Englishman.  What were his\nintentions toward her?  Did he really love her?  How could one not love\nher?  And she loved him, of that Korak had had ample proof.  Had she\nnot loved him she would not have accepted his kisses.  His Meriem loved\nanother!  For a long time he let that awful truth sink deep, and from\nit he tried to reason out his future plan of action.  In his heart was\na great desire to follow the man and slay him; but ever there rose in\nhis consciousness the thought: She loves him.  Could he slay the\ncreature Meriem loved?  Sadly he shook his head.  No, he could not.\nThen came a partial decision to follow Meriem and speak with her.  He\nhalf started, and then glanced down at his nakedness and was ashamed.\nHe, the son of a British peer, had thus thrown away his life, had thus\ndegraded himself to the level of a beast that he was ashamed to go to\nthe woman he loved and lay his love at her feet.  He was ashamed to go\nto the little Arab maid who had been his jungle playmate, for what had\nhe to offer her?\n\nFor years circumstances had prevented a return to his father and\nmother, and at last pride had stepped in and expunged from his mind the\nlast vestige of any intention to return.  In a spirit of boyish\nadventure he had cast his lot with the jungle ape.  The killing of the\ncrook in the coast inn had filled his childish mind with terror of the\nlaw, and driven him deeper into the wilds.  The rebuffs that he had met\nat the hands of men, both black and white, had had their effect upon\nhis mind while yet it was in a formative state, and easily influenced.\n\nHe had come to believe that the hand of man was against him, and then\nhe had found in Meriem the only human association he required or\ncraved.  When she had been snatched from him his sorrow had been so\ndeep that the thought of ever mingling again with human beings grew\nstill more unutterably distasteful.  Finally and for all time, he\nthought, the die was cast.  Of his own volition he had become a beast,\na beast he had lived, a beast he would die.\n\nNow that it was too late, he regretted it.  For now Meriem, still\nliving, had been revealed to him in a guise of progress and advancement\nthat had carried her completely out of his life.  Death itself could\nnot have further removed her from him.  In her new world she loved a\nman of her own kind.  And Korak knew that it was right.  She was not\nfor him--not for the naked, savage ape.  No, she was not for him; but\nhe still was hers.  If he could not have her and happiness, he would at\nleast do all that lay in his power to assure happiness to her.  He\nwould follow the young Englishman.  In the first place he would know\nthat he meant Meriem no harm, and after that, though jealousy wrenched\nhis heart, he would watch over the man Meriem loved, for Meriem's sake;\nbut God help that man if he thought to wrong her!\n\nSlowly he aroused himself.  He stood erect and stretched his great\nframe, the muscles of his arms gliding sinuously beneath his tanned\nskin as he bent his clenched fists behind his head.  A movement on the\nground beneath caught his eye.  An antelope was entering the clearing.\nImmediately Korak became aware that he was empty--again he was a beast.\nFor a moment love had lifted him to sublime heights of honor and\nrenunciation.\n\nThe antelope was crossing the clearing.  Korak dropped to the ground\nupon the opposite side of the tree, and so lightly that not even the\nsensitive ears of the antelope apprehended his presence.  He uncoiled\nhis grass rope--it was the latest addition to his armament, yet he was\nproficient with it.  Often he traveled with nothing more than his knife\nand his rope--they were light and easy to carry.  His spear and bow and\narrows were cumbersome and he usually kept one or all of them hidden\naway in a private cache.\n\nNow he held a single coil of the long rope in his right hand, and the\nbalance in his left.  The antelope was but a few paces from him.\nSilently Korak leaped from his hiding place swinging the rope free from\nthe entangling shrubbery.  The antelope sprang away almost instantly;\nbut instantly, too, the coiled rope, with its sliding noose, flew\nthrough the air above him.  With unerring precision it settled about\nthe creature's neck.  There was a quick wrist movement of the thrower,\nthe noose tightened.  The Killer braced himself with the rope across\nhis hip, and as the antelope tautened the singing strands in a last\nfrantic bound for liberty he was thrown over upon his back.\n\nThen, instead of approaching the fallen animal as a roper of the\nwestern plains might do, Korak dragged his captive to himself, pulling\nhim in hand over hand, and when he was within reach leaping upon him\neven as Sheeta the panther might have done, and burying his teeth in\nthe animal's neck while he found its heart with the point of his\nhunting knife.  Recoiling his rope, he cut a few generous strips from\nhis kill and took to the trees again, where he ate in peace.  Later he\nswung off in the direction of a nearby water hole, and then he slept.\n\nIn his mind, of course, was the suggestion of another meeting between\nMeriem and the young Englishman that had been borne to him by the\ngirl's parting:  \"Tonight!\"\n\nHe had not followed Meriem because he knew from the direction from\nwhich she had come and in which she returned that wheresoever she had\nfound an asylum it lay out across the plains and not wishing to be\ndiscovered by the girl he had not cared to venture into the open after\nher.  It would do as well to keep in touch with the young man, and that\nwas precisely what he intended doing.\n\nTo you or me the possibility of locating the Hon. Morison in the jungle\nafter having permitted him to get such a considerable start might have\nseemed remote; but to Korak it was not at all so.  He guessed that the\nwhite man would return to his camp; but should he have done otherwise\nit would be a simple matter to The Killer to trail a mounted man\naccompanied by another on foot.  Days might pass and still such a spoor\nwould be sufficiently plain to lead Korak unfalteringly to its end;\nwhile a matter of a few hours only left it as clear to him as though\nthe makers themselves were still in plain sight.\n\nAnd so it came that a few minutes after the Hon. Morison Baynes entered\nthe camp to be greeted by Hanson, Korak slipped noiselessly into a\nnear-by tree.  There he lay until late afternoon and still the young\nEnglishman made no move to leave camp.  Korak wondered if Meriem were\ncoming there.  A little later Hanson and one of his black boys rode out\nof camp.  Korak merely noted the fact.  He was not particularly\ninterested in what any other member of the company than the young\nEnglishman did.\n\nDarkness came and still the young man remained.  He ate his evening\nmeal, afterward smoking numerous cigarettes.  Presently he began to\npace back and forth before his tent.  He kept his boy busy replenishing\nthe fire.  A lion coughed and he went into his tent to reappear with an\nexpress rifle.  Again he admonished the boy to throw more brush upon\nthe fire.  Korak saw that he was nervous and afraid, and his lip curled\nin a sneer of contempt.\n\nWas this the creature who had supplanted him in the heart of his\nMeriem?  Was this a man, who trembled when Numa coughed?  How could\nsuch as he protect Meriem from the countless dangers of the jungle?\nAh, but he would not have to.  They would live in the safety of\nEuropean civilization, where men in uniforms were hired to protect\nthem.  What need had a European of prowess to protect his mate?  Again\nthe sneer curled Korak's lip.\n\nHanson and his boy had ridden directly to the clearing.  It was already\ndark when they arrived.  Leaving the boy there Hanson rode to the edge\nof the plain, leading the boy's horse.  There he waited.  It was nine\no'clock before he saw a solitary figure galloping toward him from the\ndirection of the bungalow.  A few moments later Meriem drew in her\nmount beside him.  She was nervous and flushed.  When she recognized\nHanson she drew back, startled.\n\n\"Mr. Baynes' horse fell on him and sprained his ankle,\" Hanson hastened\nto explain.  \"He couldn't very well come so he sent me to meet you and\nbring you to camp.\"\n\nThe girl could not see in the darkness the gloating, triumphant\nexpression on the speaker's face.\n\n\"We had better hurry,\" continued Hanson, \"for we'll have to move along\npretty fast if we don't want to be overtaken.\"\n\n\"Is he hurt badly?\" asked Meriem.\n\n\"Only a little sprain,\" replied Hanson.  \"He can ride all right; but we\nboth thought he'd better lie up tonight, and rest, for he'll have\nplenty hard riding in the next few weeks.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" agreed the girl.\n\nHanson swung his pony about and Meriem followed him.  They rode north\nalong the edge of the jungle for a mile and then turned straight into\nit toward the west.  Meriem, following, payed little attention to\ndirections.  She did not know exactly where Hanson's camp lay and so\nshe did not guess that he was not leading her toward it.  All night\nthey rode, straight toward the west.  When morning came, Hanson\npermitted a short halt for breakfast, which he had provided in\nwell-filled saddle bags before leaving his camp.  Then they pushed on\nagain, nor did they halt a second time until in the heat of the day he\nstopped and motioned the girl to dismount.\n\n\"We will sleep here for a time and let the ponies graze,\" he said.\n\n\"I had no idea the camp was so far away,\" said Meriem.\n\n\"I left orders that they were to move on at day break,\" explained the\ntrader, \"so that we could get a good start.  I knew that you and I\ncould easily overtake a laden safari.  It may not be until tomorrow\nthat we'll catch up with them.\"\n\nBut though they traveled part of the night and all the following day no\nsign of the safari appeared ahead of them.  Meriem, an adept in jungle\ncraft, knew that none had passed ahead of them for many days.\nOccasionally she saw indications of an old spoor, a very old spoor, of\nmany men.  For the most part they followed this well-marked trail along\nelephant paths and through park-like groves.  It was an ideal trail for\nrapid traveling.\n\nMeriem at last became suspicious.  Gradually the attitude of the man at\nher side had begun to change.  Often she surprised him devouring her\nwith his eyes.  Steadily the former sensation of previous\nacquaintanceship urged itself upon her.  Somewhere, sometime before she\nhad known this man.  It was evident that he had not shaved for several\ndays.  A blonde stubble had commenced to cover his neck and cheeks and\nchin, and with it the assurance that he was no stranger continued to\ngrow upon the girl.\n\nIt was not until the second day, however, that Meriem rebelled.  She\ndrew in her pony at last and voiced her doubts. Hanson assured her that\nthe camp was but a few miles further on.\n\n\"We should have overtaken them yesterday,\" he said.  \"They must have\nmarched much faster than I had believed possible.\"\n\n\"They have not marched here at all,\" said Meriem.  \"The spoor that we\nhave been following is weeks old.\"\n\nHanson laughed.\n\n\"Oh, that's it, is it?\" he cried.  \"Why didn't you say so before?  I\ncould have easily explained.  We are not coming by the same route; but\nwe'll pick up their trail sometime today, even if we don't overtake\nthem.\"\n\nNow, at last, Meriem knew the man was lying to her.  What a fool he\nmust be to think that anyone could believe such a ridiculous\nexplanation?  Who was so stupid as to believe that they could have\nexpected to overtake another party, and he had certainly assured her\nthat momentarily he expected to do so, when that party's route was not\nto meet theirs for several miles yet?\n\nShe kept her own counsel however, planning to escape at the first\nopportunity when she might have a sufficient start of her captor, as\nshe now considered him, to give her some assurance of outdistancing\nhim.  She watched his face continually when she could without being\nobserved.  Tantalizingly the placing of his familiar features persisted\nin eluding her.  Where had she known him?  Under what conditions had\nthey met before she had seen him about the farm of Bwana?  She ran over\nin her mind all the few white men she ever had known.  There were some\nwho had come to her father's douar in the jungle.  Few it is true, but\nthere had been some.  Ah, now she had it!  She had seen him there!  She\nalmost seized upon his identity and then in an instant, it had slipped\nfrom her again.\n\nIt was mid afternoon when they suddenly broke out of the jungle upon\nthe banks of a broad and placid river.  Beyond, upon the opposite\nshore, Meriem described a camp surrounded by a high, thorn boma.\n\n\"Here we are at last,\" said Hanson.  He drew his revolver and fired in\nthe air.  Instantly the camp across the river was astir.  Black men ran\ndown the river's bank.  Hanson hailed them.  But there was no sign of\nthe Hon. Morison Baynes.\n\nIn accordance with their master's instructions the blacks manned a\ncanoe and rowed across.  Hanson placed Meriem in the little craft and\nentered it himself, leaving two boys to watch the horses, which the\ncanoe was to return for and swim across to the camp side of the river.\n\nOnce in the camp Meriem asked for Baynes.  For the moment her fears had\nbeen allayed by the sight of the camp, which she had come to look upon\nas more or less a myth.  Hanson pointed toward the single tent that\nstood in the center of the enclosure.\n\n\"There,\" he said, and preceded her toward it.  At the entrance he held\nthe flap aside and motioned her within.  Meriem entered and looked\nabout.  The tent was empty.  She turned toward Hanson.  There was a\nbroad grin on his face.\n\n\"Where is Mr. Baynes?\" she demanded.\n\n\"He ain't here,\" replied Hanson.  \"Leastwise I don't see him, do you?\nBut I'm here, and I'm a damned sight better man than that thing ever\nwas.  You don't need him no more--you got me,\" and he laughed\nuproariously and reached for her.\n\nMeriem struggled to free herself.  Hanson encircled her arms and body\nin his powerful grip and bore her slowly backward toward the pile of\nblankets at the far end of the tent.  His face was bent close to hers.\nHis eyes were narrowed to two slits of heat and passion and desire.\nMeriem was looking full into his face as she fought for freedom when\nthere came over her a sudden recollection of a similar scene in which\nshe had been a participant and with it full recognition of her\nassailant.  He was the Swede Malbihn who had attacked her once before,\nwho had shot his companion who would have saved her, and from whom she\nhad been rescued by Bwana.  His smooth face had deceived her; but now\nwith the growing beard and the similarity of conditions recognition\ncame swift and sure.\n\nBut today there would be no Bwana to save her.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 21\n\n\nThe black boy whom Malbihn had left awaiting him in the clearing with\ninstructions to remain until he returned sat crouched at the foot of a\ntree for an hour when he was suddenly startled by the coughing grunt of\na lion behind him.  With celerity born of the fear of death the boy\nclambered into the branches of the tree, and a moment later the king of\nbeasts entered the clearing and approached the carcass of an antelope\nwhich, until now, the boy had not seen.\n\nUntil daylight the beast fed, while the black clung, sleepless, to his\nperch, wondering what had become of his master and the two ponies.  He\nhad been with Malbihn for a year, and so was fairly conversant with the\ncharacter of the white.  His knowledge presently led him to believe\nthat he had been purposely abandoned.  Like the balance of Malbihn's\nfollowers, this boy hated his master cordially--fear being the only\nbond that held him to the white man.  His present uncomfortable\npredicament but added fuel to the fires of his hatred.\n\nAs the sun rose the lion withdrew into the jungle and the black\ndescended from his tree and started upon his long journey back to camp.\nIn his primitive brain revolved various fiendish plans for a revenge\nthat he would not have the courage to put into effect when the test\ncame and he stood face to face with one of the dominant race.\n\nA mile from the clearing he came upon the spoor of two ponies crossing\nhis path at right angles.  A cunning look entered the black's eyes.  He\nlaughed uproariously and slapped his thighs.\n\nNegroes are tireless gossipers, which, of course, is but a roundabout\nway of saying that they are human.  Malbihn's boys had been no\nexception to the rule and as many of them had been with him at various\ntimes during the past ten years there was little about his acts and\nlife in the African wilds that was not known directly or by hearsay to\nthem all.\n\nAnd so, knowing his master and many of his past deeds, knowing, too, a\ngreat deal about the plans of Malbihn and Baynes that had been\noverheard by himself, or other servants; and knowing well from the\ngossip of the head-men that half of Malbihn's party lay in camp by the\ngreat river far to the west, it was not difficult for the boy to put\ntwo and two together and arrive at four as the sum--the four being\nrepresented by a firm conviction that his master had deceived the other\nwhite man and taken the latter's woman to his western camp, leaving the\nother to suffer capture and punishment at the hands of the Big Bwana\nwhom all feared.  Again the boy bared his rows of big, white teeth and\nlaughed aloud.  Then he resumed his northward way, traveling at a\ndogged trot that ate up the miles with marvelous rapidity.\n\nIn the Swede's camp the Hon. Morison had spent an almost sleepless\nnight of nervous apprehension and doubts and fears.  Toward morning he\nhad slept, utterly exhausted.  It was the headman who awoke him shortly\nafter sun rise to remind him that they must at once take up their\nnorthward journey.  Baynes hung back.  He wanted to wait for \"Hanson\"\nand Meriem.  The headman urged upon him the danger that lay in\nloitering.  The fellow knew his master's plans sufficiently well to\nunderstand that he had done something to arouse the ire of the Big\nBwana and that it would fare ill with them all if they were overtaken\nin Big Bwana's country.  At the suggestion Baynes took alarm.\n\nWhat if the Big Bwana, as the head-man called him, had surprised\n\"Hanson\" in his nefarious work.  Would he not guess the truth and\npossibly be already on the march to overtake and punish him?  Baynes\nhad heard much of his host's summary method of dealing out punishment\nto malefactors great and small who transgressed the laws or customs of\nhis savage little world which lay beyond the outer ramparts of what men\nare pleased to call frontiers.  In this savage world where there was no\nlaw the Big Bwana was law unto himself and all who dwelt about him.  It\nwas even rumored that he had extracted the death penalty from a white\nman who had maltreated a native girl.\n\nBaynes shuddered at the recollection of this piece of gossip as he\nwondered what his host would exact of the man who had attempted to\nsteal his young, white ward.  The thought brought him to his feet.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, nervously, \"we must get away from here at once.  Do you\nknow the trail to the north?\"\n\nThe head-man did, and he lost no time in getting the safari upon the\nmarch.\n\nIt was noon when a tired and sweat-covered runner overtook the trudging\nlittle column.  The man was greeted with shouts of welcome from his\nfellows, to whom he imparted all that he knew and guessed of the\nactions of their master, so that the entire safari was aware of matters\nbefore Baynes, who marched close to the head of the column, was reached\nand acquainted with the facts and the imaginings of the black boy whom\nMalbihn had deserted in the clearing the night before.\n\nWhen the Hon. Morison had listened to all that the boy had to say and\nrealized that the trader had used him as a tool whereby he himself\nmight get Meriem into his possession, his blood ran hot with rage and\nhe trembled with apprehension for the girl's safety.\n\nThat another contemplated no worse a deed than he had contemplated in\nno way palliated the hideousness of the other's offense.  At first it\ndid not occur to him that he would have wronged Meriem no less than he\nbelieved \"Hanson\" contemplated wronging her.  Now his rage was more the\nrage of a man beaten at his own game and robbed of the prize that he\nhad thought already his.\n\n\"Do you know where your master has gone?\" he asked the black.\n\n\"Yes, Bwana,\" replied the boy.  \"He has gone to the other camp beside\nthe big afi that flows far toward the setting sun.\n\n\"Can you take me to him?\" demanded Baynes.\n\nThe boy nodded affirmatively.  Here he saw a method of revenging\nhimself upon his hated Bwana and at the same time of escaping the wrath\nof the Big Bwana whom all were positive would first follow after the\nnortherly safari.\n\n\"Can you and I, alone, reach his camp?\" asked the Hon. Morison.\n\n\"Yes, Bwana,\" assured the black.\n\nBaynes turned toward the head-man.  He was conversant with \"Hanson's\"\nplans now.  He understood why he had wished to move the northern camp\nas far as possible toward the northern boundary of the Big Bwana's\ncountry--it would give him far more time to make his escape toward the\nWest Coast while the Big Bwana was chasing the northern contingent.\nWell, he would utilize the man's plans to his own end.  He, too, must\nkeep out of the clutches of his host.\n\n\"You may take the men north as fast as possible,\" he said to the\nhead-man.  \"I shall return and attempt to lead the Big Bwana to the\nwest.\"\n\nThe Negro assented with a grunt.  He had no desire to follow this\nstrange white man who was afraid at night; he had less to remain at the\ntender mercies of the Big Bwana's lusty warriors, between whom and his\npeople there was long-standing blood feud; and he was more than\ndelighted, into the bargain, for a legitimate excuse for deserting his\nmuch hated Swede master.  He knew a way to the north and his own\ncountry that the white men did not know--a short cut across an arid\nplateau where lay water holes of which the white hunters and explorers\nthat had passed from time to time the fringe of the dry country had\nnever dreamed.  He might even elude the Big Bwana should he follow\nthem, and with this thought uppermost in his mind he gathered the\nremnants of Malbihn's safari into a semblance of order and moved off\ntoward the north.  And toward the southwest the black boy led the Hon.\nMorison Baynes into the jungles.\n\nKorak had waited about the camp, watching the Hon. Morison until the\nsafari had started north.  Then, assured that the young Englishman was\ngoing in the wrong direction to meet Meriem he had abandoned him and\nreturned slowly to the point where he had seen the girl, for whom his\nheart yearned, in the arms of another.\n\nSo great had been his happiness at seeing Meriem alive that, for the\ninstant, no thought of jealousy had entered his mind.  Later these\nthoughts had come--dark, bloody thoughts that would have made the flesh\nof the Hon. Morison creep could he have guessed that they were\nrevolving in the brain of a savage creature creeping stealthily among\nthe branches of the forest giant beneath which he waited the coming of\n\"Hanson\" and the girl.\n\nAnd with passing of the hours had come subdued reflection in which he\nhad weighed himself against the trimly clad English gentleman\nand--found that he was wanting.  What had he to offer her by comparison\nwith that which the other man might offer?  What was his \"mess of\npottage\" to the birthright that the other had preserved?  How could he\ndare go, naked and unkempt, to that fair thing who had once been his\njungle-fellow and propose the thing that had been in his mind when\nfirst the realization of his love had swept over him?  He shuddered as\nhe thought of the irreparable wrong that his love would have done the\ninnocent child but for the chance that had snatched her from him before\nit was too late.  Doubtless she knew now the horror that had been in\nhis mind.  Doubtless she hated and loathed him as he hated and loathed\nhimself when he let his mind dwell upon it.  He had lost her.  No more\nsurely had she been lost when he thought her dead than she was in\nreality now that he had seen her living--living in the guise of a\nrefinement that had transfigured and sanctified her.\n\nHe had loved her before, now he worshipped her.  He knew that he might\nnever possess her now, but at least he might see her.  From a distance\nhe might look upon her.  Perhaps he might serve her; but never must she\nguess that he had found her or that he lived.\n\nHe wondered if she ever thought of him--if the happy days that they had\nspent together never recurred to her mind.  It seemed unbelievable that\nsuch could be the case, and yet, too, it seemed almost equally\nunbelievable that this beautiful girl was the same disheveled, half\nnaked, little sprite who skipped nimbly among the branches of the trees\nas they ran and played in the lazy, happy days of the past.  It could\nnot be that her memory held more of the past than did her new\nappearance.\n\nIt was a sad Korak who ranged the jungle near the plain's edge waiting\nfor the coming of his Meriem--the Meriem who never came.\n\nBut there came another--a tall, broad-shouldered man in khaki at the\nhead of a swarthy crew of ebon warriors.  The man's face was set in\nhard, stern lines and the marks of sorrow were writ deep about his\nmouth and eyes--so deep that the set expression of rage upon his\nfeatures could not obliterate them.\n\nKorak saw the man pass beneath him where he hid in the great tree that\nhad harbored him before upon the edge of that fateful little clearing.\nHe saw him come and he set rigid and frozen and suffering above him.\nHe saw him search the ground with his keen eyes, and he only sat there\nwatching with eyes that glazed from the intensity of his gaze.  He saw\nhim sign to his men that he had come upon that which he sought and he\nsaw him pass out of sight toward the north, and still Korak sat like a\ngraven image, with a heart that bled in dumb misery.  An hour later\nKorak moved slowly away, back into the jungle toward the west.  He went\nlistlessly, with bent head and stooped shoulders, like an old man who\nbore upon his back the weight of a great sorrow.\n\nBaynes, following his black guide, battled his way through the dense\nunderbrush, riding stooped low over his horse's neck, or often he\ndismounted where the low branches swept too close to earth to permit\nhim to remain in the saddle.  The black was taking him the shortest\nway, which was no way at all for a horseman, and after the first day's\nmarch the young Englishman was forced to abandon his mount, and follow\nhis nimble guide entirely on foot.\n\nDuring the long hours of marching the Hon. Morison had much time to\ndevote to thought, and as he pictured the probable fate of Meriem at\nthe hands of the Swede his rage against the man became the greater.\nBut presently there came to him a realization of the fact that his own\nbase plans had led the girl into this terrible predicament, and that\neven had she escaped \"Hanson\" she would have found but little better\ndeserts awaiting her with him.\n\nThere came too, the realization that Meriem was infinitely more\nprecious to him than he had imagined.  For the first time he commenced\nto compare her with other women of his acquaintance--women of birth and\nposition--and almost to his surprise--he discovered that the young Arab\ngirl suffered less than they by the comparison.  And then from hating\n\"Hanson\" he came to look upon himself with hate and loathing--to see\nhimself and his perfidious act in all their contemptible hideousness.\n\nThus, in the crucible of shame amidst the white heat of naked truths,\nthe passion that the man had felt for the girl he had considered his\nsocial inferior was transmuted into love.  And as he staggered on there\nburned within him beside his newborn love another great passion--the\npassion of hate urging him on to the consummation of revenge.\n\nA creature of ease and luxury, he had never been subjected to the\nhardships and tortures which now were his constant companionship, yet,\nhis clothing torn, his flesh scratched and bleeding, he urged the black\nto greater speed, though with every dozen steps he himself fell from\nexhaustion.\n\nIt was revenge which kept him going--that and a feeling that in his\nsuffering he was partially expiating the great wrong he had done the\ngirl he loved--for hope of saving her from the fate into which he had\ntrapped her had never existed.  \"Too late!  Too late!\" was the dismal\naccompaniment of thought to which he marched.  \"Too late!  Too late to\nsave; but not too late to avenge!\"  That kept him up.\n\nOnly when it became too dark to see would he permit of a halt.  A dozen\ntimes in the afternoon he had threatened the black with instant death\nwhen the tired guide insisted upon resting.  The fellow was terrified.\nHe could not understand the remarkable change that had so suddenly come\nover the white man who had been afraid in the dark the night before.\nHe would have deserted this terrifying master had he had the\nopportunity; but Baynes guessed that some such thought might be in the\nother's mind, and so gave the fellow none.  He kept close to him by day\nand slept touching him at night in the rude thorn boma they constructed\nas a slight protection against prowling carnivora.\n\nThat the Hon. Morison could sleep at all in the midst of the savage\njungle was sufficient indication that he had changed considerably in\nthe past twenty-four hours, and that he could lie close beside a\nnone-too-fragrant black man spoke of possibilities for democracy within\nhim yet all undreamed of.\n\nMorning found him stiff and lame and sore, but none the less determined\nto push on in pursuit of \"Hanson\" as rapidly as possible.  With his\nrifle he brought down a buck at a ford in a small stream shortly after\nthey broke camp, breakfastless.  Begrudgingly he permitted a halt while\nthey cooked and ate, and then on again through the wilderness of trees\nand vines and underbrush.\n\nAnd in the meantime Korak wandered slowly westward, coming upon the\ntrail of Tantor, the elephant, whom he overtook browsing in the deep\nshade of the jungle.  The ape-man, lonely and sorrowing, was glad of\nthe companionship of his huge friend.  Affectionately the sinuous trunk\nencircled him, and he was swung to the mighty back where so often\nbefore he had lolled and dreamed the long afternoon away.\n\nFar to the north the Big Bwana and his black warriors clung tenaciously\nto the trail of the fleeing safari that was luring them further and\nfurther from the girl they sought to save, while back at the bungalow\nthe woman who had loved Meriem as though she had been her own waited\nimpatiently and in sorrow for the return of the rescuing party and the\ngirl she was positive her invincible lord and master would bring back\nwith him.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 22\n\n\nAs Meriem struggled with Malbihn, her hands pinioned to her sides by\nhis brawny grip, hope died within her.  She did not utter a sound for\nshe knew that there was none to come to her assistance, and, too, the\njungle training of her earlier life had taught her the futility of\nappeals for succor in the savage world of her up-bringing.\n\nBut as she fought to free herself one hand came in contact with the\nbutt of Malbihn's revolver where it rested in the holster at his hip.\nSlowly he was dragging her toward the blankets, and slowly her fingers\nencircled the coveted prize and drew it from its resting place.\n\nThen, as Malbihn stood at the edge of the disordered pile of blankets,\nMeriem suddenly ceased to draw away from him, and as quickly hurled her\nweight against him with the result that he was thrown backward, his\nfeet stumbled against the bedding and he was hurled to his back.\nInstinctively his hands flew out to save himself and at the same\ninstant Meriem leveled the revolver at his breast and pulled the\ntrigger.\n\nBut the hammer fell futilely upon an empty shell, and Malbihn was again\nupon his feet clutching at her.  For a moment she eluded him, and ran\ntoward the entrance to the tent, but at the very doorway his heavy hand\nfell upon her shoulder and dragged her back.  Wheeling upon him with\nthe fury of a wounded lioness Meriem grasped the long revolver by the\nbarrel, swung it high above her head and crashed it down full in\nMalbihn's face.\n\nWith an oath of pain and rage the man staggered backward, releasing his\nhold upon her and then sank unconscious to the ground.  Without a\nbackward look Meriem turned and fled into the open.  Several of the\nblacks saw her and tried to intercept her flight, but the menace of the\nempty weapon kept them at a distance.  And so she won beyond the\nencircling boma and disappeared into the jungle to the south.\n\nStraight into the branches of a tree she went, true to the arboreal\ninstincts of the little mangani she had been, and here she stripped off\nher riding skirt, her shoes and her stockings, for she knew that she\nhad before her a journey and a flight which would not brook the burden\nof these garments.  Her riding breeches and jacket would have to serve\nas protection from cold and thorns, nor would they hamper her over\nmuch; but a skirt and shoes were impossible among the trees.\n\nShe had not gone far before she commenced to realize how slight were\nher chances for survival without means of defense or a weapon to bring\ndown meat.  Why had she not thought to strip the cartridge belt from\nMalbihn's waist before she had left his tent!  With cartridges for the\nrevolver she might hope to bag small game, and to protect herself from\nall but the most ferocious of the enemies that would beset her way back\nto the beloved hearthstone of Bwana and My Dear.\n\nWith the thought came determination to return and obtain the coveted\nammunition.  She realized that she was taking great chances of\nrecapture; but without means of defense and of obtaining meat she felt\nthat she could never hope to reach safety.  And so she turned her face\nback toward the camp from which she had but just escaped.\n\nShe thought Malbihn dead, so terrific a blow had she dealt him, and she\nhoped to find an opportunity after dark to enter the camp and search\nhis tent for the cartridge belt; but scarcely had she found a hiding\nplace in a great tree at the edge of the boma where she could watch\nwithout danger of being discovered, when she saw the Swede emerge from\nhis tent, wiping blood from his face, and hurling a volley of oaths and\nquestions at his terrified followers.\n\nShortly after the entire camp set forth in search of her and when\nMeriem was positive that all were gone she descended from her hiding\nplace and ran quickly across the clearing to Malbihn's tent.  A hasty\nsurvey of the interior revealed no ammunition; but in one corner was a\nbox in which were packed the Swede's personal belongings that he had\nsent along by his headman to this westerly camp.\n\nMeriem seized the receptacle as the possible container of extra\nammunition.  Quickly she loosed the cords that held the canvas covering\nabout the box, and a moment later had raised the lid and was rummaging\nthrough the heterogeneous accumulation of odds and ends within.  There\nwere letters and papers and cuttings from old newspapers, and among\nother things the photograph of a little girl upon the back of which was\npasted a cutting from a Paris daily--a cutting that she could not read,\nyellowed and dimmed by age and handling--but something about the\nphotograph of the little girl which was also reproduced in the\nnewspaper cutting held her attention.  Where had she seen that picture\nbefore?  And then, quite suddenly, it came to her that this was a\npicture of herself as she had been years and years before.\n\nWhere had it been taken?  How had it come into the possession of this\nman?  Why had it been reproduced in a newspaper?  What was the story\nthat the faded type told of it?\n\nMeriem was baffled by the puzzle that her search for ammunition had\nrevealed.  She stood gazing at the faded photograph for a time and then\nbethought herself of the ammunition for which she had come.  Turning\nagain to the box she rummaged to the bottom and there in a corner she\ncame upon a little box of cartridges.  A single glance assured her that\nthey were intended for the weapon she had thrust inside the band of her\nriding breeches, and slipping them into her pocket she turned once more\nfor an examination of the baffling likeness of herself that she held in\nher hand.\n\nAs she stood thus in vain endeavor to fathom this inexplicable mystery\nthe sound of voices broke upon her ears.  Instantly she was all alert.\nThey were coming closer!  A second later she recognized the lurid\nprofanity of the Swede.  Malbihn, her persecutor, was returning!\nMeriem ran quickly to the opening of the tent and looked out.  It was\ntoo late!  She was fairly cornered!  The white man and three of his\nblack henchmen were coming straight across the clearing toward the\ntent.  What was she to do?  She slipped the photograph into her waist.\nQuickly she slipped a cartridge into each of the chambers of the\nrevolver.  Then she backed toward the end of the tent, keeping the\nentrance covered by her weapon.  The man stopped outside, and Meriem\ncould hear Malbihn profanely issuing instructions.  He was a long time\nabout it, and while he talked in his bellowing, brutish voice, the girl\nsought some avenue of escape.  Stooping, she raised the bottom of the\ncanvas and looked beneath and beyond.  There was no one in sight upon\nthat side.  Throwing herself upon her stomach she wormed beneath the\ntent wall just as Malbihn, with a final word to his men, entered the\ntent.\n\nMeriem heard him cross the floor, and then she rose and, stooping low,\nran to a native hut directly behind.  Once inside this she turned and\nglanced back.  There was no one in sight.  She had not been seen.  And\nnow from Malbihn's tent she heard a great cursing.  The Swede had\ndiscovered the rifling of his box.  He was shouting to his men, and as\nshe heard them reply Meriem darted from the hut and ran toward the edge\nof the boma furthest from Malbihn's tent.  Overhanging the boma at this\npoint was a tree that had been too large, in the eyes of the\nrest-loving blacks, to cut down.  So they had terminated the boma just\nshort of it.  Meriem was thankful for whatever circumstance had\nresulted in the leaving of that particular tree where it was, since it\ngave her the much-needed avenue of escape which she might not otherwise\nhave had.\n\nFrom her hiding place she saw Malbihn again enter the jungle, this time\nleaving a guard of three of his boys in the camp.  He went toward the\nsouth, and after he had disappeared, Meriem skirted the outside of the\nenclosure and made her way to the river.  Here lay the canoes that had\nbeen used in bringing the party from the opposite shore.  They were\nunwieldy things for a lone girl to handle, but there was no other way\nand she must cross the river.\n\nThe landing place was in full view of the guard at the camp.  To risk\nthe crossing under their eyes would have meant undoubted capture.  Her\nonly hope lay in waiting until darkness had fallen, unless some\nfortuitous circumstance should arise before.  For an hour she lay\nwatching the guard, one of whom seemed always in a position where he\nwould immediately discover her should she attempt to launch one of the\ncanoes.\n\nPresently Malbihn appeared, coming out of the jungle, hot and puffing.\nHe ran immediately to the river where the canoes lay and counted them.\nIt was evident that it had suddenly occurred to him that the girl must\ncross here if she wished to return to her protectors.  The expression\nof relief on his face when he found that none of the canoes was gone\nwas ample evidence of what was passing in his mind.  He turned and\nspoke hurriedly to the head man who had followed him out of the jungle\nand with whom were several other blacks.\n\nFollowing Malbihn's instructions they launched all the canoes but one.\nMalbihn called to the guards in the camp and a moment later the entire\nparty had entered the boats and were paddling up stream.\n\nMeriem watched them until a bend in the river directly above the camp\nhid them from her sight.  They were gone!  She was alone, and they had\nleft a canoe in which lay a paddle!  She could scarce believe the good\nfortune that had come to her.  To delay now would be suicidal to her\nhopes.  Quickly she ran from her hiding place and dropped to the\nground.  A dozen yards lay between her and the canoe.\n\nUp stream, beyond the bend, Malbihn ordered his canoes in to shore.  He\nlanded with his head man and crossed the little point slowly in search\nof a spot where he might watch the canoe he had left at the landing\nplace.  He was smiling in anticipation of the almost certain success of\nhis stratagem--sooner or later the girl would come back and attempt to\ncross the river in one of their canoes.  It might be that the idea\nwould not occur to her for some time.  They might have to wait a day,\nor two days; but that she would come if she lived or was not captured\nby the men he had scouting the jungle for her Malbihn was sure.  That\nshe would come so soon, however, he had not guessed, and so when he\ntopped the point and came again within sight of the river he saw that\nwhich drew an angry oath from his lips--his quarry already was half way\nacross the river.\n\nTurning, he ran rapidly back to his boats, the head man at his heels.\nThrowing themselves in, Malbihn urged his paddlers to their most\npowerful efforts.  The canoes shot out into the stream and down with\nthe current toward the fleeing quarry.  She had almost completed the\ncrossing when they came in sight of her.  At the same instant she saw\nthem, and redoubled her efforts to reach the opposite shore before they\nshould overtake her.  Two minutes' start of them was all Meriem cared\nfor.  Once in the trees she knew that she could outdistance and elude\nthem.  Her hopes were high--they could not overtake her now--she had\nhad too good a start of them.\n\nMalbihn, urging his men onward with a stream of hideous oaths and blows\nfrom his fists, realized that the girl was again slipping from his\nclutches.  The leading canoe, in the bow of which he stood, was yet a\nhundred yards behind the fleeing Meriem when she ran the point of her\ncraft beneath the overhanging trees on the shore of safety.\n\nMalbihn screamed to her to halt.  He seemed to have gone mad with rage\nat the realization that he could not overtake her, and then he threw\nhis rifle to his shoulder, aimed carefully at the slim figure\nscrambling into the trees, and fired.\n\nMalbihn was an excellent shot.  His misses at so short a distance were\npractically non-existent, nor would he have missed this time but for an\naccident occurring at the very instant that his finger tightened upon\nthe trigger--an accident to which Meriem owed her life--the\nprovidential presence of a water-logged tree trunk, one end of which\nwas embedded in the mud of the river bottom and the other end of which\nfloated just beneath the surface where the prow of Malbihn's canoe ran\nupon it as he fired.  The slight deviation of the boat's direction was\nsufficient to throw the muzzle of the rifle out of aim.  The bullet\nwhizzed harmlessly by Meriem's head and an instant later she had\ndisappeared into the foliage of the tree.\n\nThere was a smile on her lips as she dropped to the ground to cross a\nlittle clearing where once had stood a native village surrounded by its\nfields.  The ruined huts still stood in crumbling decay.  The rank\nvegetation of the jungle overgrew the cultivated ground.  Small trees\nalready had sprung up in what had been the village street; but\ndesolation and loneliness hung like a pall above the scene.  To Meriem,\nhowever, it presented but a place denuded of large trees which she must\ncross quickly to regain the jungle upon the opposite side before\nMalbihn should have landed.\n\nThe deserted huts were, to her, all the better because they were\ndeserted--she did not see the keen eyes watching her from a dozen\npoints, from tumbling doorways, from behind tottering granaries.  In\nutter unconsciousness of impending danger she started up the village\nstreet because it offered the clearest pathway to the jungle.\n\nA mile away toward the east, fighting his way through the jungle along\nthe trail taken by Malbihn when he had brought Meriem to his camp, a\nman in torn khaki--filthy, haggard, unkempt--came to a sudden stop as\nthe report of Malbihn's rifle resounded faintly through the tangled\nforest.  The black man just ahead of him stopped, too.\n\n\"We are almost there, Bwana,\" he said.  There was awe and respect in\nhis tone and manner.\n\nThe white man nodded and motioned his ebon guide forward once more.  It\nwas the Hon. Morison Baynes--the fastidious--the exquisite.  His face\nand hands were scratched and smeared with dried blood from the wounds\nhe had come by in thorn and thicket.  His clothes were tatters.  But\nthrough the blood and the dirt and the rags a new Baynes shone forth--a\nhandsomer Baynes than the dandy and the fop of yore.\n\nIn the heart and soul of every son of woman lies the germ of manhood\nand honor.  Remorse for a scurvy act, and an honorable desire to right\nthe wrong he had done the woman he now knew he really loved had excited\nthese germs to rapid growth in Morison Baynes--and the metamorphosis\nhad taken place.\n\nOnward the two stumbled toward the point from which the single rifle\nshot had come.  The black was unarmed--Baynes, fearing his loyalty had\nnot dared trust him even to carry the rifle which the white man would\nhave been glad to be relieved of many times upon the long march; but\nnow that they were approaching their goal, and knowing as he did that\nhatred of Malbihn burned hot in the black man's brain, Baynes handed\nhim the rifle, for he guessed that there would be fighting--he intended\nthat there should, for he had come to avenge.  Himself, an excellent\nrevolver shot, would depend upon the smaller weapon at his side.\n\nAs the two forged ahead toward their goal they were startled by a\nvolley of shots ahead of them.  Then came a few scattering reports,\nsome savage yells, and silence.  Baynes was frantic in his endeavors to\nadvance more rapidly, but there the jungle seemed a thousand times more\ntangled than before.  A dozen times he tripped and fell.  Twice the\nblack followed a blind trail and they were forced to retrace their\nsteps; but at last they came out into a little clearing near the big\nafi--a clearing that once held a thriving village, but lay somber and\ndesolate in decay and ruin.\n\nIn the jungle vegetation that overgrew what had once been the main\nvillage street lay the body of a black man, pierced through the heart\nwith a bullet, and still warm.  Baynes and his companion looked about\nin all directions; but no sign of living being could they discover.\nThey stood in silence listening intently.\n\nWhat was that!  Voices and the dip of paddles out upon the river?\n\nBaynes ran across the dead village toward the fringe of jungle upon the\nriver's brim.  The black was at his side.  Together they forced their\nway through the screening foliage until they could obtain a view of the\nriver, and there, almost to the other shore, they saw Malbihn's canoes\nmaking rapidly for camp.  The black recognized his companions\nimmediately.\n\n\"How can we cross?\" asked Baynes.\n\nThe black shook his head.  There was no canoe and the crocodiles made\nit equivalent to suicide to enter the water in an attempt to swim\nacross.  Just then the fellow chanced to glance downward.  Beneath him,\nwedged among the branches of a tree, lay the canoe in which Meriem had\nescaped.  The Negro grasped Baynes' arm and pointed toward his find.\nThe Hon. Morison could scarce repress a shout of exultation.  Quickly\nthe two slid down the drooping branches into the boat.  The black\nseized the paddle and Baynes shoved them out from beneath the tree.  A\nsecond later the canoe shot out upon the bosom of the river and headed\ntoward the opposite shore and the camp of the Swede.  Baynes squatted\nin the bow, straining his eyes after the men pulling the other canoes\nupon the bank across from him.  He saw Malbihn step from the bow of the\nforemost of the little craft.  He saw him turn and glance back across\nthe river.  He could see his start of surprise as his eyes fell upon\nthe pursuing canoe, and called the attention of his followers to it.\n\nThen he stood waiting, for there was but one canoe and two men--little\ndanger to him and his followers in that.  Malbihn was puzzled.  Who was\nthis white man?  He did not recognize him though Baynes' canoe was now\nin mid stream and the features of both its occupants plainly\ndiscernible to those on shore.  One of Malbihn's blacks it was who\nfirst recognized his fellow black in the person of Baynes' companion.\nThen Malbihn guessed who the white man must be, though he could scarce\nbelieve his own reasoning.  It seemed beyond the pale of wildest\nconjecture to suppose that the Hon.  Morison Baynes had followed him\nthrough the jungle with but a single companion--and yet it was true.\nBeneath the dirt and dishevelment he recognized him at last, and in the\nnecessity of admitting that it was he, Malbihn was forced to recognize\nthe incentive that had driven Baynes, the weakling and coward, through\nthe savage jungle upon his trail.\n\nThe man had come to demand an accounting and to avenge.  It seemed\nincredible, and yet there could be no other explanation.  Malbihn\nshrugged.  Well, others had sought Malbihn for similar reasons in the\ncourse of a long and checkered career.  He fingered his rifle, and\nwaited.\n\nNow the canoe was within easy speaking distance of the shore.\n\n\"What do you want?\" yelled Malbihn, raising his weapon threateningly.\n\nThe Hon. Morison Baynes leaped to his feet.\n\n\"You, damn you!\" he shouted, whipping out his revolver and firing\nalmost simultaneously with the Swede.\n\nAs the two reports rang out Malbihn dropped his rifle, clutched\nfrantically at his breast, staggered, fell first to his knees and then\nlunged upon his face.  Baynes stiffened.  His head flew back\nspasmodically.  For an instant he stood thus, and then crumpled very\ngently into the bottom of the boat.\n\nThe black paddler was at a loss as to what to do.  If Malbihn really\nwere dead he could continue on to join his fellows without fear; but\nshould the Swede only be wounded he would be safer upon the far shore.\nTherefore he hesitated, holding the canoe in mid stream.  He had come\nto have considerable respect for his new master and was not unmoved by\nhis death.  As he sat gazing at the crumpled body in the bow of the\nboat he saw it move.  Very feebly the man essayed to turn over.  He\nstill lived.  The black moved forward and lifted him to a sitting\nposition.  He was standing in front of him, his paddle in one hand,\nasking Baynes where he was hit when there was another shot from shore\nand the Negro pitched head-long overboard, his paddle still clutched in\nhis dead fingers--shot through the forehead.\n\nBaynes turned weakly in the direction of the shore to see Malbihn drawn\nup upon his elbows levelling his rifle at him.  The Englishman slid to\nthe bottom of the canoe as a bullet whizzed above him.  Malbihn, sore\nhit, took longer in aiming, nor was his aim as sure as formerly.  With\ndifficulty Baynes turned himself over on his belly and grasping his\nrevolver in his right hand drew himself up until he could look over the\nedge of the canoe.\n\nMalbihn saw him instantly and fired; but Baynes did not flinch or duck.\nWith painstaking care he aimed at the target upon the shore from which\nhe now was drifting with the current.  His finger closed upon the\ntrigger--there was a flash and a report, and Malbihn's giant frame\njerked to the impact of another bullet.\n\nBut he was not yet dead.  Again he aimed and fired, the bullet\nsplintering the gunwale of the canoe close by Baynes' face.  Baynes\nfired again as his canoe drifted further down stream and Malbihn\nanswered from the shore where he lay in a pool of his own blood.  And\nthus, doggedly, the two wounded men continued to carry on their weird\nduel until the winding African river had carried the Hon.  Morison\nBaynes out of sight around a wooded point.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 23\n\n\nMeriem had traversed half the length of the village street when a score\nof white-robed Negroes and half-castes leaped out upon her from the\ndark interiors of surrounding huts.  She turned to flee, but heavy\nhands seized her, and when she turned at last to plead with them her\neyes fell upon the face of a tall, grim, old man glaring down upon her\nfrom beneath the folds of his burnous.\n\nAt sight of him she staggered back in shocked and terrified surprise.\nIt was The Sheik!\n\nInstantly all the old fears and terrors of her childhood returned upon\nher.  She stood trembling before this horrible old man, as a murderer\nbefore the judge about to pass sentence of death upon him.  She knew\nthat The Sheik recognized her.  The years and the changed raiment had\nnot altered her so much but what one who had known her features so well\nin childhood would know her now.\n\n\"So you have come back to your people, eh?\" snarled The Sheik.  \"Come\nback begging for food and protection, eh?\"\n\n\"Let me go,\" cried the girl.  \"I ask nothing of you, but that you let\nme go back to the Big Bwana.\"\n\n\"The Big Bwana?\" almost screamed The Sheik, and then followed a stream\nof profane, Arabic invective against the white man whom all the\ntransgressors of the jungle feared and hated.  \"You would go back to\nthe Big Bwana, would you?  So that is where you have been since you ran\naway from me, is it?  And who comes now across the river after you--the\nBig Bwana?\"\n\n\"The Swede whom you once chased away from your country when he and his\ncompanion conspired with Nbeeda to steal me from you,\" replied Meriem.\n\nThe Sheik's eyes blazed, and he called his men to approach the shore\nand hide among the bushes that they might ambush and annihilate Malbihn\nand his party; but Malbihn already had landed and crawling through the\nfringe of jungle was at that very moment looking with wide and\nincredulous eyes upon the scene being enacted in the street of the\ndeserted village.  He recognized The Sheik the moment his eyes fell\nupon him.  There were two men in the world that Malbihn feared as he\nfeared the devil.  One was the Big Bwana and the other The Sheik.  A\nsingle glance he took at that gaunt, familiar figure and then he turned\ntail and scurried back to his canoe calling his followers after him.\nAnd so it happened that the party was well out in the stream before The\nSheik reached the shore, and after a volley and a few parting shots\nthat were returned from the canoes the Arab called his men off and\nsecuring his prisoner set off toward the South.\n\nOne of the bullets from Malbihn's force had struck a black standing in\nthe village street where he had been left with another to guard Meriem,\nand his companions had left him where he had fallen, after\nappropriating his apparel and belongings.  His was the body that Baynes\nhad discovered when he had entered the village.\n\nThe Sheik and his party had been marching southward along the river\nwhen one of them, dropping out of line to fetch water, had seen Meriem\npaddling desperately from the opposite shore.  The fellow had called\nThe Sheik's attention to the strange sight--a white woman alone in\nCentral Africa and the old Arab had hidden his men in the deserted\nvillage to capture her when she landed, for thoughts of ransom were\nalways in the mind of The Sheik.  More than once before had glittering\ngold filtered through his fingers from a similar source.  It was easy\nmoney and The Sheik had none too much easy money since the Big Bwana\nhad so circumscribed the limits of his ancient domain that he dared not\neven steal ivory from natives within two hundred miles of the Big\nBwana's douar.  And when at last the woman had walked into the trap he\nhad set for her and he had recognized her as the same little girl he\nhad brutalized and mal-treated years before his gratification had been\nhuge.  Now he lost no time in establishing the old relations of father\nand daughter that had existed between them in the past.  At the first\nopportunity he struck her a heavy blow across the face.  He forced her\nto walk when he might have dismounted one of his men instead, or had\nher carried on a horse's rump.  He seemed to revel in the discovery of\nnew methods for torturing or humiliating her, and among all his\nfollowers she found no single one to offer her sympathy, or who dared\ndefend her, even had they had the desire to do so.\n\nA two days' march brought them at last to the familiar scenes of her\nchildhood, and the first face upon which she set her eyes as she was\ndriven through the gates into the strong stockade was that of the\ntoothless, hideous Mabunu, her one time nurse.  It was as though all\nthe years that had intervened were but a dream.  Had it not been for\nher clothing and the fact that she had grown in stature she might well\nhave believed it so.  All was there as she had left it--the new faces\nwhich supplanted some of the old were of the same bestial, degraded\ntype.  There were a few young Arabs who had joined The Sheik since she\nhad been away.  Otherwise all was the same--all but one.  Geeka was not\nthere, and she found herself missing Geeka as though the ivory-headed\none had been a flesh and blood intimate and friend.  She missed her\nragged little confidante, into whose deaf ears she had been wont to\npour her many miseries and her occasional joys--Geeka, of the splinter\nlimbs and the ratskin torso--Geeka the disreputable--Geeka the beloved.\n\nFor a time the inhabitants of The Sheik's village who had not been upon\nthe march with him amused themselves by inspecting the strangely clad\nwhite girl, whom some of them had known as a little child.  Mabunu\npretended great joy at her return, baring her toothless gums in a\nhideous grimace that was intended to be indicative of rejoicing.  But\nMeriem could but shudder as she recalled the cruelties of this terrible\nold hag in the years gone by.\n\nAmong the Arabs who had come in her absence was a tall young fellow of\ntwenty--a handsome, sinister looking youth--who stared at her in open\nadmiration until The Sheik came and ordered him away, and Abdul Kamak\nwent, scowling.\n\nAt last, their curiosity satisfied, Meriem was alone.  As of old, she\nwas permitted the freedom of the village, for the stockade was high and\nstrong and the only gates were well-guarded by day and by night; but as\nof old she cared not for the companionship of the cruel Arabs and the\ndegraded blacks who formed the following of The Sheik, and so, as had\nbeen her wont in the sad days of her childhood, she slunk down to an\nunfrequented corner of the enclosure where she had often played at\nhouse-keeping with her beloved Geeka beneath the spreading branches of\nthe great tree that had overhung the palisade; but now the tree was\ngone, and Meriem guessed the reason.  It was from this tree that Korak\nhad descended and struck down The Sheik the day that he had rescued her\nfrom the life of misery and torture that had been her lot for so long\nthat she could remember no other.\n\nThere were low bushes growing within the stockade, however, and in the\nshade of these Meriem sat down to think.  A little glow of happiness\nwarmed her heart as she recalled her first meeting with Korak and then\nthe long years that he had cared for and protected her with the\nsolicitude and purity of an elder brother.  For months Korak had not so\noccupied her thoughts as he did today.  He seemed closer and dearer now\nthan ever he had before, and she wondered that her heart had drifted so\nfar from loyalty to his memory.  And then came the image of the Hon.\nMorison, the exquisite, and Meriem was troubled.  Did she really love\nthe flawless young Englishman?  She thought of the glories of London,\nof which he had told her in such glowing language.  She tried to\npicture herself admired and honored in the midst of the gayest society\nof the great capital.  The pictures she drew were the pictures that the\nHon. Morison had drawn for her.  They were alluring pictures, but\nthrough them all the brawny, half-naked figure of the giant Adonis of\nthe jungle persisted in obtruding itself.\n\nMeriem pressed her hand above her heart as she stifled a sigh, and as\nshe did so she felt the hard outlines of the photograph she had hidden\nthere as she slunk from Malbihn's tent.  Now she drew it forth and\ncommenced to re-examine it more carefully than she had had time to do\nbefore.  She was sure that the baby face was hers.  She studied every\ndetail of the picture.  Half hidden in the lace of the dainty dress\nrested a chain and locket.  Meriem puckered her brows.  What\ntantalizing half-memories it awakened!  Could this flower of evident\ncivilization be the little Arab Meriem, daughter of The Sheik?  It was\nimpossible, and yet that locket?  Meriem knew it.  She could not refute\nthe conviction of her memory.  She had seen that locket before and it\nhad been hers.  What strange mystery lay buried in her past?\n\nAs she sat gazing at the picture she suddenly became aware that she was\nnot alone--that someone was standing close behind her--some one who had\napproached her noiselessly.  Guiltily she thrust the picture back into\nher waist.  A hand fell upon her shoulder.  She was sure that it was\nThe Sheik and she awaited in dumb terror the blow that she knew would\nfollow.\n\nNo blow came and she looked upward over her shoulder--into the eyes of\nAbdul Kamak, the young Arab.\n\n\"I saw,\" he said, \"the picture that you have just hidden.  It is you\nwhen you were a child--a very young child.  May I see it again?\"\n\nMeriem drew away from him.\n\n\"I will give it back,\" he said.  \"I have heard of you and I know that\nyou have no love for The Sheik, your father.  Neither have I.  I will\nnot betray you.  Let me see the picture.\"\n\nFriendless among cruel enemies, Meriem clutched at the straw that Abdul\nKamak held out to her.  Perhaps in him she might find the friend she\nneeded.  Anyway he had seen the picture and if he was not a friend he\ncould tell The Sheik about it and it would be taken away from her.  So\nshe might as well grant his request and hope that he had spoken fairly,\nand would deal fairly.  She drew the photograph from its hiding place\nand handed it to him.\n\nAbdul Kamak examined it carefully, comparing it, feature by feature\nwith the girl sitting on the ground looking up into his face.  Slowly\nhe nodded his head.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"it is you, but where was it taken?  How does it happen\nthat The Sheik's daughter is clothed in the garments of the unbeliever?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" replied Meriem.  \"I never saw the picture until a\ncouple of days ago, when I found it in the tent of the Swede, Malbihn.\"\n\nAbdul Kamak raised his eyebrows.  He turned the picture over and as his\neyes fell upon the old newspaper cutting they went wide.  He could read\nFrench, with difficulty, it is true; but he could read it.  He had been\nto Paris.  He had spent six months there with a troupe of his desert\nfellows, upon exhibition, and he had improved his time, learning many\nof the customs, some of the language, and most of the vices of his\nconquerors.  Now he put his learning to use.  Slowly, laboriously he\nread the yellowed cutting.  His eyes were no longer wide.  Instead they\nnarrowed to two slits of cunning.  When he had done he looked at the\ngirl.\n\n\"You have read this?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is French,\" she replied, \"and I do not read French.\"\n\nAbdul Kamak stood long in silence looking at the girl.  She was very\nbeautiful.  He desired her, as had many other men who had seen her.  At\nlast he dropped to one knee beside her.\n\nA wonderful idea had sprung to Abdul Kamak's mind.  It was an idea that\nmight be furthered if the girl were kept in ignorance of the contents\nof that newspaper cutting.  It would certainly be doomed should she\nlearn its contents.\n\n\"Meriem,\" he whispered, \"never until today have my eyes beheld you, yet\nat once they told my heart that it must ever be your servant.  You do\nnot know me, but I ask that you trust me.  I can help you.  You hate\nThe Sheik--so do I.  Let me take you away from him.  Come with me, and\nwe will go back to the great desert where my father is a sheik mightier\nthan is yours.  Will you come?\"\n\nMeriem sat in silence.  She hated to wound the only one who had offered\nher protection and friendship; but she did not want Abdul Kamak's love.\nDeceived by her silence the man seized her and strained her to him; but\nMeriem struggled to free herself.\n\n\"I do not love you,\" she cried.  \"Oh, please do not make me hate you.\nYou are the only one who has shown kindness toward me, and I want to\nlike you, but I cannot love you.\"\n\nAbdul Kamak drew himself to his full height.\n\n\"You will learn to love me,\" he said, \"for I shall take you whether you\nwill or no.  You hate The Sheik and so you will not tell him, for if\nyou do I will tell him of the picture.  I hate The Sheik, and--\"\n\n\"You hate The Sheik?\" came a grim voice from behind them.\n\nBoth turned to see The Sheik standing a few paces from them.  Abdul\nstill held the picture in his hand.  Now he thrust it within his\nburnous.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"I hate the Sheik,\" and as he spoke he sprang toward\nthe older man, felled him with a blow and dashed on across the village\nto the line where his horse was picketed, saddled and ready, for Abdul\nKamak had been about to ride forth to hunt when he had seen the\nstranger girl alone by the bushes.\n\nLeaping into the saddle Abdul Kamak dashed for the village gates.  The\nSheik, momentarily stunned by the blow that had felled him, now\nstaggered to his feet, shouting lustily to his followers to stop the\nescaped Arab.  A dozen blacks leaped forward to intercept the horseman,\nonly to be ridden down or brushed aside by the muzzle of Abdul Kamak's\nlong musket, which he lashed from side to side about him as he spurred\non toward the gate.  But here he must surely be intercepted.  Already\nthe two blacks stationed there were pushing the unwieldy portals to.\nUp flew the barrel of the fugitive's weapon.  With reins flying loose\nand his horse at a mad gallop the son of the desert fired once--twice;\nand both the keepers of the gate dropped in their tracks.  With a wild\nwhoop of exultation, twirling his musket high above his head and\nturning in his saddle to laugh back into the faces of his pursuers\nAbdul Kamak dashed out of the village of The Sheik and was swallowed up\nby the jungle.\n\nFoaming with rage The Sheik ordered immediate pursuit, and then strode\nrapidly back to where Meriem sat huddled by the bushes where he had\nleft her.\n\n\"The picture!\" he cried.  \"What picture did the dog speak of?  Where is\nit?  Give it to me at once!\"\n\n\"He took it,\" replied Meriem, dully.\n\n\"What was it?\" again demanded The Sheik, seizing the girl roughly by\nthe hair and dragging her to her feet, where he shook her venomously.\n\"What was it a picture of?\"\n\n\"Of me,\" said Meriem, \"when I was a little girl.  I stole it from\nMalbihn, the Swede--it had printing on the back cut from an old\nnewspaper.\"\n\nThe Sheik went white with rage.\n\n\"What said the printing?\" he asked in a voice so low that she but\nbarely caught his words.\n\n\"I do not know.  It was in French and I cannot read French.\"\n\nThe Sheik seemed relieved.  He almost smiled, nor did he again strike\nMeriem before he turned and strode away with the parting admonition\nthat she speak never again to any other than Mabunu and himself.  And\nalong the caravan trail galloped Abdul Kamak toward the north.\n\n\nAs his canoe drifted out of sight and range of the wounded Swede the\nHon. Morison sank weakly to its bottom where he lay for long hours in\npartial stupor.\n\nIt was night before he fully regained consciousness.  And then he lay\nfor a long time looking up at the stars and trying to recollect where\nhe was, what accounted for the gently rocking motion of the thing upon\nwhich he lay, and why the position of the stars changed so rapidly and\nmiraculously.  For a while he thought he was dreaming, but when he\nwould have moved to shake sleep from him the pain of his wound recalled\nto him the events that had led up to his present position.  Then it was\nthat he realized that he was floating down a great African river in a\nnative canoe--alone, wounded, and lost.\n\nPainfully he dragged himself to a sitting position.  He noticed that\nthe wound pained him less than he had imagined it would.  He felt of it\ngingerly--it had ceased to bleed.  Possibly it was but a flesh wound\nafter all, and nothing serious.  If it totally incapacitated him even\nfor a few days it would mean death, for by that time he would be too\nweakened by hunger and pain to provide food for himself.\n\nFrom his own troubles his mind turned to Meriem's.  That she had been\nwith the Swede at the time he had attempted to reach the fellow's camp\nhe naturally believed; but he wondered what would become of her now.\nEven if Hanson died of his wounds would Meriem be any better off?  She\nwas in the power of equally villainous men--brutal savages of the\nlowest order.  Baynes buried his face in his hands and rocked back and\nforth as the hideous picture of her fate burned itself into his\nconsciousness.  And it was he who had brought this fate upon her!  His\nwicked desire had snatched a pure and innocent girl from the protection\nof those who loved her to hurl her into the clutches of the bestial\nSwede and his outcast following!  And not until it had become too late\nhad he realized the magnitude of the crime he himself had planned and\ncontemplated.  Not until it had become too late had he realized that\ngreater than his desire, greater than his lust, greater than any\npassion he had ever felt before was the newborn love that burned within\nhis breast for the girl he would have ruined.\n\nThe Hon. Morison Baynes did not fully realize the change that had taken\nplace within him.  Had one suggested that he ever had been aught than\nthe soul of honor and chivalry he would have taken umbrage forthwith.\nHe knew that he had done a vile thing when he had plotted to carry\nMeriem away to London, yet he excused it on the ground of his great\npassion for the girl having temporarily warped his moral standards by\nthe intensity of its heat.  But, as a matter of fact, a new Baynes had\nbeen born.  Never again could this man be bent to dishonor by the\nintensity of a desire.  His moral fiber had been strengthened by the\nmental suffering he had endured.  His mind and his soul had been purged\nby sorrow and remorse.\n\nHis one thought now was to atone--win to Meriem's side and lay down his\nlife, if necessary, in her protection.  His eyes sought the length of\nthe canoe in search of the paddle, for a determination had galvanized\nhim to immediate action despite his weakness and his wound.  But the\npaddle was gone.  He turned his eyes toward the shore.  Dimly through\nthe darkness of a moonless night he saw the awful blackness of the\njungle, yet it touched no responsive chord of terror within him now as\nit had done in the past.  He did not even wonder that he was unafraid,\nfor his mind was entirely occupied with thoughts of another's danger.\n\nDrawing himself to his knees he leaned over the edge of the canoe and\ncommenced to paddle vigorously with his open palm.  Though it tired and\nhurt him he kept assiduously at his self imposed labor for hours.\nLittle by little the drifting canoe moved nearer and nearer the shore.\nThe Hon. Morison could hear a lion roaring directly opposite him and so\nclose that he felt he must be almost to the shore.  He drew his rifle\ncloser to his side; but he did not cease to paddle.\n\nAfter what seemed to the tired man an eternity of time he felt the\nbrush of branches against the canoe and heard the swirl of the water\nabout them.  A moment later he reached out and clutched a leafy limb.\nAgain the lion roared--very near it seemed now, and Baynes wondered if\nthe brute could have been following along the shore waiting for him to\nland.\n\nHe tested the strength of the limb to which he clung.  It seemed strong\nenough to support a dozen men.  Then he reached down and lifted his\nrifle from the bottom of the canoe, slipping the sling over his\nshoulder.  Again he tested the branch, and then reaching upward as far\nas he could for a safe hold he drew himself painfully and slowly upward\nuntil his feet swung clear of the canoe, which, released, floated\nsilently from beneath him to be lost forever in the blackness of the\ndark shadows down stream.\n\nHe had burned his bridges behind him.  He must either climb aloft or\ndrop back into the river; but there had been no other way.  He\nstruggled to raise one leg over the limb, but found himself scarce\nequal to the effort, for he was very weak.  For a time he hung there\nfeeling his strength ebbing.  He knew that he must gain the branch\nabove at once or it would be too late.\n\nSuddenly the lion roared almost in his ear.  Baynes glanced up.  He saw\ntwo spots of flame a short distance from and above him.  The lion was\nstanding on the bank of the river glaring at him, and--waiting for him.\nWell, thought the Hon. Morison, let him wait.  Lions can't climb trees,\nand if I get into this one I shall be safe enough from him.\n\nThe young Englishman's feet hung almost to the surface of the\nwater--closer than he knew, for all was pitch dark below as above him.\nPresently he heard a slight commotion in the river beneath him and\nsomething banged against one of his feet, followed almost instantly by\na sound that he felt he could not have mistaken--the click of great\njaws snapping together.\n\n\"By George!\" exclaimed the Hon. Morison, aloud.  \"The beggar nearly got\nme,\" and immediately he struggled again to climb higher and to\ncomparative safety; but with that final effort he knew that it was\nfutile.  Hope that had survived persistently until now began to wane.\nHe felt his tired, numbed fingers slipping from their hold--he was\ndropping back into the river--into the jaws of the frightful death that\nawaited him there.\n\nAnd then he heard the leaves above him rustle to the movement of a\ncreature among them.  The branch to which he clung bent beneath an\nadded weight--and no light weight, from the way it sagged; but still\nBaynes clung desperately--he would not give up voluntarily either to\nthe death above or the death below.\n\nHe felt a soft, warm pad upon the fingers of one of his hands where\nthey circled the branch to which he clung, and then something reached\ndown out of the blackness above and dragged him up among the branches\nof the tree.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 24\n\n\nSometimes lolling upon Tantor's back, sometimes roaming the jungle in\nsolitude, Korak made his way slowly toward the West and South.  He made\nbut a few miles a day, for he had a whole lifetime before him and no\nplace in particular to go. Possibly he would have moved more rapidly\nbut for the thought which continually haunted him that each mile he\ntraversed carried him further and further away from Meriem--no longer\nhis Meriem, as of yore, it is true! but still as dear to him as ever.\n\nThus he came upon the trail of The Sheik's band as it traveled down\nriver from the point where The Sheik had captured Meriem to his own\nstockaded village.  Korak pretty well knew who it was that had passed,\nfor there were few in the great jungle with whom he was not familiar,\nthough it had been years since he had come this far north.  He had no\nparticular business, however, with the old Sheik and so he did not\npropose following him--the further from men he could stay the better\npleased he would be--he wished that he might never see a human face\nagain.  Men always brought him sorrow and misery.\n\nThe river suggested fishing and so he dawdled upon its shores, catching\nfish after a fashion of his own devising and eating them raw.  When\nnight came he curled up in a great tree beside the stream--the one from\nwhich he had been fishing during the afternoon--and was soon asleep.\nNuma, roaring beneath him, awoke him.  He was about to call out in\nanger to his noisy neighbor when something else caught his attention.\nHe listened.  Was there something in the tree beside himself?  Yes, he\nheard the noise of something below him trying to clamber upward.\nPresently he heard the click of a crocodile's jaws in the waters\nbeneath, and then, low but distinct: \"By George!  The beggar nearly got\nme.\"  The voice was familiar.\n\nKorak glanced downward toward the speaker.  Outlined against the faint\nluminosity of the water he saw the figure of a man clinging to a lower\nbranch of the tree.  Silently and swiftly the ape-man clambered\ndownward.  He felt a hand beneath his foot.  He reached down and\nclutched the figure beneath him and dragged it up among the branches.\nIt struggled weakly and struck at him; but Korak paid no more attention\nthan Tantor to an ant.  He lugged his burden to the higher safety and\ngreater comfort of a broad crotch, and there he propped it in a sitting\nposition against the bole of the tree.  Numa still was roaring beneath\nthem, doubtless in anger that he had been robbed of his prey.  Korak\nshouted down at him, calling him, in the language of the great apes,\n\"Old green-eyed eater of carrion,\" \"Brother of Dango,\" the hyena, and\nother choice appellations of jungle opprobrium.\n\nThe Hon. Morison Baynes, listening, felt assured that a gorilla had\nseized upon him.  He felt for his revolver, and as he was drawing it\nstealthily from its holster a voice asked in perfectly good English,\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nBaynes started so that he nearly fell from the branch.\n\n\"My God!\" he exclaimed.  \"Are you a man?\"\n\n\"What did you think I was?\" asked Korak.\n\n\"A gorilla,\" replied Baynes, honestly.\n\nKorak laughed.\n\n\"Who are you?\" he repeated.\n\n\"I'm an Englishman by the name of Baynes; but who the devil are you?\"\nasked the Hon. Morison.\n\n\"They call me The Killer,\" replied Korak, giving the English\ntranslation of the name that Akut had given him.  And then after a\npause during which the Hon. Morison attempted to pierce the darkness\nand catch a glimpse of the features of the strange being into whose\nhands he had fallen, \"You are the same whom I saw kissing the girl at\nthe edge of the great plain to the East, that time that the lion\ncharged you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Baynes.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"The girl was stolen--I am trying to rescue her.\"\n\n\"Stolen!\"  The word was shot out like a bullet from a gun.  \"Who stole\nher?\"\n\n\"The Swede trader, Hanson,\" replied Baynes.\n\n\"Where is he?\"\n\nBaynes related to Korak all that had transpired since he had come upon\nHanson's camp.  Before he was done the first gray dawn had relieved the\ndarkness.  Korak made the Englishman comfortable in the tree.  He\nfilled his canteen from the river and fetched him fruits to eat.  Then\nhe bid him good-bye.\n\n\"I am going to the Swede's camp,\" he announced.  \"I will bring the girl\nback to you here.\"\n\n\"I shall go, too, then,\" insisted Baynes.  \"It is my right and my duty,\nfor she was to have become my wife.\"\n\nKorak winced.  \"You are wounded.  You could not make the trip,\" he\nsaid.  \"I can go much faster alone.\"\n\n\"Go, then,\" replied Baynes; \"but I shall follow.  It is my right and\nduty.\"\n\n\"As you will,\" replied Korak, with a shrug.  If the man wanted to be\nkilled it was none of his affair.  He wanted to kill him himself, but\nfor Meriem's sake he would not.  If she loved him then he must do what\nhe could to preserve him, but he could not prevent his following him,\nmore than to advise him against it, and this he did, earnestly.\n\nAnd so Korak set out rapidly toward the North, and limping slowly and\npainfully along, soon far to the rear, came the tired and wounded\nBaynes.  Korak had reached the river bank opposite Malbihn's camp\nbefore Baynes had covered two miles.  Late in the afternoon the\nEnglishman was still plodding wearily along, forced to stop often for\nrest when he heard the sound of the galloping feet of a horse behind\nhim.  Instinctively he drew into the concealing foliage of the\nunderbrush and a moment later a white-robed Arab dashed by.  Baynes did\nnot hail the rider.  He had heard of the nature of the Arabs who\npenetrate thus far to the South, and what he had heard had convinced\nhim that a snake or a panther would as quickly befriend him as one of\nthese villainous renegades from the Northland.\n\nWhen Abdul Kamak had passed out of sight toward the North Baynes\nresumed his weary march.  A half hour later he was again surprised by\nthe unmistakable sound of galloping horses.  This time there were many.\nOnce more he sought a hiding place; but it chanced that he was crossing\na clearing which offered little opportunity for concealment.  He broke\ninto a slow trot--the best that he could do in his weakened condition;\nbut it did not suffice to carry him to safety and before he reached the\nopposite side of the clearing a band of white-robed horsemen dashed\ninto view behind him.\n\nAt sight of him they shouted in Arabic, which, of course, he could not\nunderstand, and then they closed about him, threatening and angry.\nTheir questions were unintelligible to him, and no more could they\ninterpret his English.  At last, evidently out of patience, the leader\nordered two of his men to seize him, which they lost no time in doing.\nThey disarmed him and ordered him to climb to the rump of one of the\nhorses, and then the two who had been detailed to guard him turned and\nrode back toward the South, while the others continued their pursuit of\nAbdul Kamak.\n\nAs Korak came out upon the bank of the river across from which he could\nsee the camp of Malbihn he was at a loss as to how he was to cross.  He\ncould see men moving about among the huts inside the boma--evidently\nHanson was still there.  Korak did not know the true identity of\nMeriem's abductor.\n\nHow was he to cross.  Not even he would dare the perils of the\nriver--almost certain death.  For a moment he thought, then wheeled and\nsped away into the jungle, uttering a peculiar cry, shrill and\npiercing.  Now and again he would halt to listen as though for an\nanswer to his weird call, then on again, deeper and deeper into the\nwood.\n\nAt last his listening ears were rewarded by the sound they craved--the\ntrumpeting of a bull elephant, and a few moments later Korak broke\nthrough the trees into the presence of Tantor, standing with upraised\ntrunk, waving his great ears.\n\n\"Quick, Tantor!\" shouted the ape-man, and the beast swung him to his\nhead.  \"Hurry!\" and the mighty pachyderm lumbered off through the\njungle, guided by kicking of naked heels against the sides of his head.\n\nToward the northwest Korak guided his huge mount, until they came out\nupon the river a mile or more above the Swede's camp, at a point where\nKorak knew that there was an elephant ford.  Never pausing the ape-man\nurged the beast into the river, and with trunk held high Tantor forged\nsteadily toward the opposite bank.  Once an unwary crocodile attacked\nhim but the sinuous trunk dove beneath the surface and grasping the\namphibian about the middle dragged it to light and hurled it a hundred\nfeet down stream.  And so, in safety, they made the opposite shore,\nKorak perched high and dry above the turgid flood.\n\nThen back toward the South Tantor moved, steadily, relentlessly, and\nwith a swinging gait which took no heed of any obstacle other than the\nlarger jungle trees.  At times Korak was forced to abandon the broad\nhead and take to the trees above, so close the branches raked the back\nof the elephant; but at last they came to the edge of the clearing\nwhere lay the camp of the renegade Swede, nor even then did they\nhesitate or halt.  The gate lay upon the east side of the camp, facing\nthe river.  Tantor and Korak approached from the north.  There was no\ngate there; but what cared Tantor or Korak for gates.\n\nAt a word from the ape man and raising his tender trunk high above the\nthorns Tantor breasted the boma, walking through it as though it had\nnot existed.  A dozen blacks squatted before their huts looked up at\nthe noise of his approach.  With sudden howls of terror and amazement\nthey leaped to their feet and fled for the open gates.  Tantor would\nhave pursued.  He hated man, and he thought that Korak had come to hunt\nthese; but the ape man held him back, guiding him toward a large,\ncanvas tent that rose in the center of the clearing--there should be\nthe girl and her abductor.\n\nMalbihn lay in a hammock beneath canopy before his tent.  His wounds\nwere painful and he had lost much blood.  He was very weak.  He looked\nup in surprise as he heard the screams of his men and saw them running\ntoward the gate.  And then from around the corner of his tent loomed a\nhuge bulk, and Tantor, the great tusker, towered above him.  Malbihn's\nboy, feeling neither affection nor loyalty for his master, broke and\nran at the first glimpse of the beast, and Malbihn was left alone and\nhelpless.\n\nThe elephant stopped a couple of paces from the wounded man's hammock.\nMalbihn cowered, moaning.  He was too weak to escape.  He could only\nlie there with staring eyes gazing in horror into the blood rimmed,\nangry little orbs fixed upon him, and await his death.\n\nThen, to his astonishment, a man slid to the ground from the elephant's\nback.  Almost at once Malbihn recognized the strange figure as that of\nthe creature who consorted with apes and baboons--the white warrior of\nthe jungle who had freed the king baboon and led the whole angry horde\nof hairy devils upon him and Jenssen.  Malbihn cowered still lower.\n\n\"Where is the girl?\" demanded Korak, in English.\n\n\"What girl?\" asked Malbihn.  \"There is no girl here--only the women of\nmy boys.  Is it one of them you want?\"\n\n\"The white girl,\" replied Korak.  \"Do not lie to me--you lured her from\nher friends.  You have her.  Where is she?\"\n\n\"It was not I,\" cried Malbihn.  \"It was an Englishman who hired me to\nsteal her.  He wished to take her to London with him.  She was willing\nto go.  His name is Baynes.  Go to him, if you want to know where the\ngirl is.\"\n\n\"I have just come from him,\" said Korak.  \"He sent me to you.  The girl\nis not with him.  Now stop your lying and tell me the truth.  Where is\nshe?\"  Korak took a threatening step toward the Swede.\n\nMalbihn shrank from the anger in the other's face.\n\n\"I will tell you,\" he cried.  \"Do not harm me and I will tell you all\nthat I know.  I had the girl here; but it was Baynes who persuaded her\nto leave her friends--he had promised to marry her.  He does not know\nwho she is; but I do, and I know that there is a great reward for\nwhoever takes her back to her people. It was the only reward I wanted.\nBut she escaped and crossed the river in one of my canoes.  I followed\nher, but The Sheik was there, God knows how, and he captured her and\nattacked me and drove me back.  Then came Baynes, angry because he had\nlost the girl, and shot me.  If you want her, go to The Sheik and ask\nhim for her--she has passed as his daughter since childhood.\"\n\n\"She is not The Sheik's daughter?\" asked Korak.\n\n\"She is not,\" replied Malbihn.\n\n\"Who is she then?\" asked Korak.\n\nHere Malbihn saw his chance.  Possibly he could make use of his\nknowledge after all--it might even buy back his life for him.  He was\nnot so credulous as to believe that this savage ape-man would have any\ncompunctions about slaying him.\n\n\"When you find her I will tell you,\" he said, \"if you will promise to\nspare my life and divide the reward with me.  If you kill me you will\nnever know, for only The Sheik knows and he will never tell.  The girl\nherself is ignorant of her origin.\"\n\n\"If you have told me the truth I will spare you,\" said Korak.  \"I shall\ngo now to The Sheik's village and if the girl is not there I shall\nreturn and slay you.  As for the other information you have, if the\ngirl wants it when we have found her we will find a way to purchase it\nfrom you.\"\n\nThe look in the Killer's eyes and his emphasis of the word \"purchase\"\nwere none too reassuring to Malbihn.  Evidently, unless he found means\nto escape, this devil would have both his secret and his life before he\nwas done with him.  He wished he would be gone and take his evil-eyed\ncompanion away with him.  The swaying bulk towering high above him, and\nthe ugly little eyes of the elephant watching his every move made\nMalbihn nervous.\n\nKorak stepped into the Swede's tent to assure himself that Meriem was\nnot hid there.  As he disappeared from view Tantor, his eyes still\nfixed upon Malbihn, took a step nearer the man.  An elephant's eyesight\nis none too good; but the great tusker evidently had harbored\nsuspicions of this yellow-bearded white man from the first.  Now he\nadvanced his snake-like trunk toward the Swede, who shrank still deeper\ninto his hammock.\n\nThe sensitive member felt and smelled back and forth along the body of\nthe terrified Malbihn.  Tantor uttered a low, rumbling sound.  His\nlittle eyes blazed.  At last he had recognized the creature who had\nkilled his mate long years before.  Tantor, the elephant, never forgets\nand never forgives.  Malbihn saw in the demoniacal visage above him the\nmurderous purpose of the beast.  He shrieked aloud to Korak.  \"Help!\nHelp!  The devil is going to kill me!\"\n\nKorak ran from the tent just in time to see the enraged elephant's\ntrunk encircle the beast's victim, and then hammock, canopy and man\nwere swung high over Tantor's head.  Korak leaped before the animal,\ncommanding him to put down his prey unharmed; but as well might he have\nordered the eternal river to reverse its course.  Tantor wheeled around\nlike a cat, hurled Malbihn to the earth and kneeled upon him with the\nquickness of a cat.  Then he gored the prostrate thing through and\nthrough with his mighty tusks, trumpeting and roaring in his rage, and\nat last, convinced that no slightest spark of life remained in the\ncrushed and lacerated flesh, he lifted the shapeless clay that had been\nSven Malbihn far aloft and hurled the bloody mass, still entangled in\ncanopy and hammock, over the boma and out into the jungle.\n\nKorak stood looking sorrowfully on at the tragedy he gladly would have\naverted.  He had no love for the Swede, in fact only hatred; but he\nwould have preserved the man for the sake of the secret he possessed.\nNow that secret was gone forever unless The Sheik could be made to\ndivulge it; but in that possibility Korak placed little faith.\n\nThe ape-man, as unafraid of the mighty Tantor as though he had not just\nwitnessed his shocking murder of a human being, signalled the beast to\napproach and lift him to its head, and Tantor came as he was bid,\ndocile as a kitten, and hoisted The Killer tenderly aloft.\n\nFrom the safety of their hiding places in the jungle Malbihn's boys had\nwitnessed the killing of their master, and now, with wide, frightened\neyes, they saw the strange white warrior, mounted upon the head of his\nferocious charger, disappear into the jungle at the point from which he\nhad emerged upon their terrified vision.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 25\n\n\nThe Sheik glowered at the prisoner which his two men brought back to\nhim from the North.  He had sent the party after Abdul Kamak, and he\nwas wroth that instead of his erstwhile lieutenant they had sent back a\nwounded and useless Englishman.  Why had they not dispatched him where\nthey had found him?  He was some penniless beggar of a trader who had\nwandered from his own district and became lost.  He was worthless.  The\nSheik scowled terribly upon him.\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked in French.\n\n\"I am the Hon. Morison Baynes of London,\" replied his prisoner.\n\nThe title sounded promising, and at once the wily old robber had\nvisions of ransom.  His intentions, if not his attitude toward the\nprisoner underwent a change--he would investigate further.\n\n\"What were you doing poaching in my country?\" growled he.\n\n\"I was not aware that you owned Africa,\" replied the Hon. Morison.  \"I\nwas searching for a young woman who had been abducted from the home of\na friend.  The abductor wounded me and I drifted down river in a\ncanoe--I was on my way back to his camp when your men seized me.\"\n\n\"A young woman?\" asked The Sheik.  \"Is that she?\" and he pointed to his\nleft over toward a clump of bushes near the stockade.\n\nBaynes looked in the direction indicated and his eyes went wide, for\nthere, sitting cross-legged upon the ground, her back toward them, was\nMeriem.\n\n\"Meriem!\" he shouted, starting toward her; but one of his guards\ngrasped his arm and jerked him back.  The girl leaped to her feet and\nturned toward him as she heard her name.\n\n\"Morison!\" she cried.\n\n\"Be still, and stay where you are,\" snapped The Sheik, and then to\nBaynes.  \"So you are the dog of a Christian who stole my daughter from\nme?\"\n\n\"Your daughter?\" ejaculated Baynes.  \"She is your daughter?\"\n\n\"She is my daughter,\" growled the Arab, \"and she is not for any\nunbeliever.  You have earned death, Englishman, but if you can pay for\nyour life I will give it to you.\"\n\nBaynes' eyes were still wide at the unexpected sight of Meriem here in\nthe camp of the Arab when he had thought her in Hanson's power.  What\nhad happened?  How had she escaped the Swede?  Had the Arab taken her\nby force from him, or had she escaped and come voluntarily back to the\nprotection of the man who called her \"daughter\"?  He would have given\nmuch for a word with her.  If she was safe here he might only harm her\nby antagonizing the Arab in an attempt to take her away and return her\nto her English friends.  No longer did the Hon. Morison harbor thoughts\nof luring the girl to London.\n\n\"Well?\" asked The Sheik.\n\n\"Oh,\" exclaimed Baynes; \"I beg your pardon--I was thinking of something\nelse.  Why yes, of course, glad to pay, I'm sure.  How much do you\nthink I'm worth?\"\n\nThe Sheik named a sum that was rather less exorbitant than the Hon.\nMorison had anticipated.  The latter nodded his head in token of his\nentire willingness to pay.  He would have promised a sum far beyond his\nresources just as readily, for he had no intention of paying\nanything--his one reason for seeming to comply with The Sheik's demands\nwas that the wait for the coming of the ransom money would give him the\ntime and the opportunity to free Meriem if he found that she wished to\nbe freed.  The Arab's statement that he was her father naturally raised\nthe question in the Hon.  Morison's mind as to precisely what the\ngirl's attitude toward escape might be.  It seemed, of course,\npreposterous that this fair and beautiful young woman should prefer to\nremain in the filthy douar of an illiterate old Arab rather than return\nto the comforts, luxuries, and congenial associations of the hospitable\nAfrican bungalow from which the Hon. Morison had tricked her.  The man\nflushed at the thought of his duplicity which these recollections\naroused--thoughts which were interrupted by The Sheik, who instructed\nthe Hon. Morison to write a letter to the British consul at Algiers,\ndictating the exact phraseology of it with a fluency that indicated to\nhis captive that this was not the first time the old rascal had had\noccasion to negotiate with English relatives for the ransom of a\nkinsman.  Baynes demurred when he saw that the letter was addressed to\nthe consul at Algiers, saying that it would require the better part of\na year to get the money back to him; but The Sheik would not listen to\nBaynes' plan to send a messenger directly to the nearest coast town,\nand from there communicate with the nearest cable station, sending the\nHon. Morison's request for funds straight to his own solicitors.  No,\nThe Sheik was cautious and wary.  He knew his own plan had worked well\nin the past.  In the other were too many untried elements.  He was in\nno hurry for the money--he could wait a year, or two years if\nnecessary; but it should not require over six months.  He turned to one\nof the Arabs who had been standing behind him and gave the fellow\ninstructions in relation to the prisoner.\n\nBaynes could not understand the words, spoken in Arabic, but the jerk\nof the thumb toward him showed that he was the subject of conversation.\nThe Arab addressed by The Sheik bowed to his master and beckoned Baynes\nto follow him.  The Englishman looked toward The Sheik for\nconfirmation.  The latter nodded impatiently, and the Hon. Morison rose\nand followed his guide toward a native hut which lay close beside one\nof the outside goatskin tents.  In the dark, stifling interior his\nguard led him, then stepped to the doorway and called to a couple of\nblack boys squatting before their own huts.  They came promptly and in\naccordance with the Arab's instructions bound Baynes' wrists and ankles\nsecurely.  The Englishman objected strenuously; but as neither the\nblacks nor the Arab could understand a word he said his pleas were\nwasted.  Having bound him they left the hut.  The Hon. Morison lay for\na long time contemplating the frightful future which awaited him during\nthe long months which must intervene before his friends learned of his\npredicament and could get succor to him.  Now he hoped that they would\nsend the ransom--he would gladly pay all that he was worth to be out of\nthis hole.  At first it had been his intention to cable his solicitors\nto send no money but to communicate with the British West African\nauthorities and have an expedition sent to his aid.\n\nHis patrician nose wrinkled in disgust as his nostrils were assailed by\nthe awful stench of the hut.  The nasty grasses upon which he lay\nexuded the effluvium of sweaty bodies, of decayed animal matter and of\noffal.  But worse was yet to come.  He had lain in the uncomfortable\nposition in which they had thrown him but for a few minutes when he\nbecame distinctly conscious of an acute itching sensation upon his\nhands, his neck and scalp.  He wriggled to a sitting posture horrified\nand disgusted.  The itching rapidly extended to other parts of his\nbody--it was torture, and his hands were bound securely at his back!\n\nHe tugged and pulled at his bonds until he was exhausted; but not\nentirely without hope, for he was sure that he was working enough slack\nout of the knot to eventually permit of his withdrawing one of his\nhands.  Night came.  They brought him neither food nor drink.  He\nwondered if they expected him to live on nothing for a year.  The bites\nof the vermin grew less annoying though not less numerous.  The Hon.\nMorison saw a ray of hope in this indication of future immunity through\ninoculation.  He still worked weakly at his bonds, and then the rats\ncame.  If the vermin were disgusting the rats were terrifying.  They\nscurried over his body, squealing and fighting.  Finally one commenced\nto chew at one of his ears.  With an oath, the Hon. Morison struggled\nto a sitting posture.  The rats retreated.  He worked his legs beneath\nhim and came to his knees, and then, by superhuman effort, rose to his\nfeet.  There he stood, reeling drunkenly, dripping with cold sweat.\n\n\"God!\" he muttered, \"what have I done to deserve--\"  He paused.  What\nhad he done?  He thought of the girl in another tent in that accursed\nvillage.  He was getting his deserts.  He set his jaws firmly with the\nrealization.  He would never complain again!  At that moment he became\naware of voices raised angrily in the goatskin tent close beside the\nhut in which he lay.  One of them was a woman's.  Could it be Meriem's?\nThe language was probably Arabic--he could not understand a word of it;\nbut the tones were hers.\n\nHe tried to think of some way of attracting her attention to his near\npresence.  If she could remove his bonds they might escape together--if\nshe wished to escape.  That thought bothered him.  He was not sure of\nher status in the village.  If she were the petted child of the\npowerful Sheik then she would probably not care to escape.  He must\nknow, definitely.\n\nAt the bungalow he had often heard Meriem sing God Save the King, as My\nDear accompanied her on the piano.  Raising his voice he now hummed the\ntune.  Immediately he heard Meriem's voice from the tent.  She spoke\nrapidly.\n\n\"Good bye, Morison,\" she cried.  \"If God is good I shall be dead before\nmorning, for if I still live I shall be worse than dead after tonight.\"\n\nThen he heard an angry exclamation in a man's voice, followed by the\nsounds of a scuffle.  Baynes went white with horror.  He struggled\nfrantically again with his bonds.  They were giving.  A moment later\none hand was free.  It was but the work of an instant then to loose the\nother.  Stooping, he untied the rope from his ankles, then he\nstraightened and started for the hut doorway bent on reaching Meriem's\nside.  As he stepped out into the night the figure of a huge black rose\nand barred his progress.\n\n\nWhen speed was required of him Korak depended upon no other muscles\nthan his own, and so it was that the moment Tantor had landed him\nsafely upon the same side of the river as lay the village of The Sheik,\nthe ape-man deserted his bulky comrade and took to the trees in a rapid\nrace toward the south and the spot where the Swede had told him Meriem\nmight be.  It was dark when he came to the palisade, strengthened\nconsiderably since the day that he had rescued Meriem from her pitiful\nlife within its cruel confines.  No longer did the giant tree spread\nits branches above the wooden rampart; but ordinary man-made defenses\nwere scarce considered obstacles by Korak.  Loosening the rope at his\nwaist he tossed the noose over one of the sharpened posts that composed\nthe palisade.  A moment later his eyes were above the level of the\nobstacle taking in all within their range beyond.  There was no one in\nsight close by, and Korak drew himself to the top and dropped lightly\nto the ground within the enclosure.\n\nThen he commenced his stealthy search of the village.  First toward the\nArab tents he made his way, sniffing and listening.  He passed behind\nthem searching for some sign of Meriem.  Not even the wild Arab curs\nheard his passage, so silently he went--a shadow passing through\nshadows.  The odor of tobacco told him that the Arabs were smoking\nbefore their tents.  The sound of laughter fell upon his ears, and then\nfrom the opposite side of the village came the notes of a once familiar\ntune: God Save the King.  Korak halted in perplexity.  Who might it\nbe--the tones were those of a man.  He recalled the young Englishman he\nhad left on the river trail and who had disappeared before he returned.\nA moment later there came to him a woman's voice in reply--it was\nMeriem's, and The Killer, quickened into action, slunk rapidly in the\ndirection of these two voices.\n\nThe evening meal over Meriem had gone to her pallet in the women's\nquarters of The Sheik's tent, a little corner screened off in the rear\nby a couple of priceless Persian rugs to form a partition.  In these\nquarters she had dwelt with Mabunu alone, for The Sheik had no wives.\nNor were conditions altered now after the years of her absence--she and\nMabunu were alone in the women's quarters.\n\nPresently The Sheik came and parted the rugs.  He glared through the\ndim light of the interior.\n\n\"Meriem!\" he called.  \"Come hither.\"\n\nThe girl arose and came into the front of the tent.  There the light of\na fire illuminated the interior.  She saw Ali ben Kadin, The Sheik's\nhalf brother, squatted upon a rug, smoking.  The Sheik was standing.\nThe Sheik and Ali ben Kadin had had the same father, but Ali ben\nKadin's mother had been a slave--a West Coast Negress.  Ali ben Kadin\nwas old and hideous and almost black.  His nose and part of one cheek\nwere eaten away by disease.  He looked up and grinned as Meriem entered.\n\nThe Sheik jerked his thumb toward Ali ben Kadin and addressed Meriem.\n\n\"I am getting old,\" he said, \"I shall not live much longer.  Therefore\nI have given you to Ali ben Kadin, my brother.\"\n\nThat was all.  Ali ben Kadin rose and came toward her.  Meriem shrank\nback, horrified.  The man seized her wrist.\n\n\"Come!\" he commanded, and dragged her from The Sheik's tent and to his\nown.\n\nAfter they had gone The Sheik chuckled.  \"When I send her north in a\nfew months,\" he soliloquized, \"they will know the reward for slaying\nthe son of the sister of Amor ben Khatour.\"\n\nAnd in Ali ben Kadin's tent Meriem pleaded and threatened, but all to\nno avail.  The hideous old halfcaste spoke soft words at first, but\nwhen Meriem loosed upon him the vials of her horror and loathing he\nbecame enraged, and rushing upon her seized her in his arms.  Twice she\ntore away from him, and in one of the intervals during which she\nmanaged to elude him she heard Baynes' voice humming the tune that she\nknew was meant for her ears.  At her reply Ali ben Kadin rushed upon\nher once again.  This time he dragged her back into the rear apartment\nof his tent where three Negresses looked up in stolid indifference to\nthe tragedy being enacted before them.\n\nAs the Hon. Morison saw his way blocked by the huge frame of the giant\nblack his disappointment and rage filled him with a bestial fury that\ntransformed him into a savage beast.  With an oath he leaped upon the\nman before him, the momentum of his body hurling the black to the\nground.  There they fought, the black to draw his knife, the white to\nchoke the life from the black.\n\nBaynes' fingers shut off the cry for help that the other would have\nbeen glad to voice; but presently the Negro succeeded in drawing his\nweapon and an instant later Baynes felt the sharp steel in his\nshoulder.  Again and again the weapon fell.  The white man removed one\nhand from its choking grip upon the black throat.  He felt around upon\nthe ground beside him searching for some missile, and at last his\nfingers touched a stone and closed upon it.  Raising it above his\nantagonist's head the Hon. Morison drove home a terrific blow.\nInstantly the black relaxed--stunned.  Twice more Baynes struck him.\nThen he leaped to his feet and ran for the goat skin tent from which he\nhad heard the voice of Meriem in distress.\n\nBut before him was another.  Naked but for his leopard skin and his\nloin cloth, Korak, The Killer, slunk into the shadows at the back of\nAli ben Kadin's tent.  The half-caste had just dragged Meriem into the\nrear chamber as Korak's sharp knife slit a six foot opening in the tent\nwall, and Korak, tall and mighty, sprang through upon the astonished\nvisions of the inmates.\n\nMeriem saw and recognized him the instant that he entered the\napartment.  Her heart leaped in pride and joy at the sight of the noble\nfigure for which it had hungered for so long.\n\n\"Korak!\" she cried.\n\n\"Meriem!\"  He uttered the single word as he hurled himself upon the\nastonished Ali ben Kadin.  The three Negresses leaped from their\nsleeping mats, screaming.  Meriem tried to prevent them from escaping;\nbut before she could succeed the terrified blacks had darted through\nthe hole in the tent wall made by Korak's knife, and were gone\nscreaming through the village.\n\nThe Killer's fingers closed once upon the throat of the hideous Ali.\nOnce his knife plunged into the putrid heart--and Ali ben Kadin lay\ndead upon the floor of his tent.  Korak turned toward Meriem and at the\nsame moment a bloody and disheveled apparition leaped into the\napartment.\n\n\"Morison!\" cried the girl.\n\nKorak turned and looked at the new comer.  He had been about to take\nMeriem in his arms, forgetful of all that might have transpired since\nlast he had seen her.  Then the coming of the young Englishman recalled\nthe scene he had witnessed in the little clearing, and a wave of misery\nswept over the ape man.\n\nAlready from without came the sounds of the alarm that the three\nNegresses had started.  Men were running toward the tent of Ali ben\nKadin.  There was no time to be lost.\n\n\"Quick!\" cried Korak, turning toward Baynes, who had scarce yet\nrealized whether he was facing a friend or foe.  \"Take her to the\npalisade, following the rear of the tents.  Here is my rope.  With it\nyou can scale the wall and make your escape.\"\n\n\"But you, Korak?\" cried Meriem.\n\n\"I will remain,\" replied the ape-man.  \"I have business with The Sheik.\"\n\nMeriem would have demurred, but The Killer seized them both by the\nshoulders and hustled them through the slit wall and out into the\nshadows beyond.\n\n\"Now run for it,\" he admonished, and turned to meet and hold those who\nwere pouring into the tent from the front.\n\nThe ape-man fought well--fought as he had never fought before; but the\nodds were too great for victory, though he won that which he most\ncraved--time for the Englishman to escape with Meriem.  Then he was\noverwhelmed by numbers, and a few minutes later, bound and guarded, he\nwas carried to The Sheik's tent.\n\nThe old men eyed him in silence for a long time.  He was trying to fix\nin his own mind some form of torture that would gratify his rage and\nhatred toward this creature who twice had been the means of his losing\npossession of Meriem.  The killing of Ali ben Kadin caused him little\nanger--always had he hated the hideous son of his father's hideous\nslave.  The blow that this naked white warrior had once struck him\nadded fuel to his rage.  He could think of nothing adequate to the\ncreature's offense.\n\nAnd as he sat there looking upon Korak the silence was broken by the\ntrumpeting of an elephant in the jungle beyond the palisade.  A half\nsmile touched Korak's lips.  He turned his head a trifle in the\ndirection from which the sound had come and then there broke from his\nlips, a low, weird call.  One of the blacks guarding him struck him\nacross the mouth with the haft of his spear; but none there knew the\nsignificance of his cry.\n\nIn the jungle Tantor cocked his ears as the sound of Korak's voice fell\nupon them.  He approached the palisade and lifting his trunk above it,\nsniffed.  Then he placed his head against the wooden logs and pushed;\nbut the palisade was strong and only gave a little to the pressure.\n\nIn The Sheik's tent The Sheik rose at last, and, pointing toward the\nbound captive, turned to one of his lieutenants.\n\n\"Burn him,\" he commanded.  \"At once.  The stake is set.\"\n\nThe guard pushed Korak from The Sheik's presence.  They dragged him to\nthe open space in the center of the village, where a high stake was set\nin the ground.  It had not been intended for burnings, but offered a\nconvenient place to tie up refractory slaves that they might be\nbeaten--ofttimes until death relieved their agonies.\n\nTo this stake they bound Korak.  Then they brought brush and piled\nabout him, and The Sheik came and stood by that he might watch the\nagonies of his victim.  But Korak did not wince even after they had\nfetched a brand and the flames had shot up among the dry tinder.\n\nOnce, then, he raised his voice in the low call that he had given in\nThe Sheik's tent, and now, from beyond the palisade, came again the\ntrumpeting of an elephant.\n\nOld Tantor had been pushing at the palisade in vain.  The sound of\nKorak's voice calling him, and the scent of man, his enemy, filled the\ngreat beast with rage and resentment against the dumb barrier that held\nhim back.  He wheeled and shuffled back a dozen paces, then he turned,\nlifted his trunk and gave voice to a mighty roaring, trumpet-call of\nanger, lowered his head and charged like a huge battering ram of flesh\nand bone and muscle straight for the mighty barrier.\n\nThe palisade sagged and splintered to the impact, and through the\nbreach rushed the infuriated bull.  Korak heard the sounds that the\nothers heard, and he interpreted them as the others did not.  The\nflames were creeping closer to him when one of the blacks, hearing a\nnoise behind him turned to see the enormous bulk of Tantor lumbering\ntoward them.  The man screamed and fled, and then the bull elephant was\namong them tossing Negroes and Arabs to right and left as he tore\nthrough the flames he feared to the side of the comrade he loved.\n\nThe Sheik, calling orders to his followers, ran to his tent to get his\nrifle.  Tantor wrapped his trunk about the body of Korak and the stake\nto which it was bound, and tore it from the ground.  The flames were\nsearing his sensitive hide--sensitive for all its thickness--so that in\nhis frenzy to both rescue his friend and escape the hated fire he had\nall but crushed the life from the ape-man.\n\nLifting his burden high above his head the giant beast wheeled and\nraced for the breach that he had just made in the palisade.  The Sheik,\nrifle in hand, rushed from his tent directly into the path of the\nmaddened brute.  He raised his weapon and fired once, the bullet missed\nits mark, and Tantor was upon him, crushing him beneath those gigantic\nfeet as he raced over him as you and I might crush out the life of an\nant that chanced to be in our pathway.\n\nAnd then, bearing his burden carefully, Tantor, the elephant, entered\nthe blackness of the jungle.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 26\n\n\nMeriem, dazed by the unexpected sight of Korak whom she had long given\nup as dead, permitted herself to be led away by Baynes.  Among the\ntents he guided her safely to the palisade, and there, following\nKorak's instructions, the Englishman pitched a noose over the top of\none of the upright logs that formed the barrier.  With difficulty he\nreached the top and then lowered his hand to assist Meriem to his side.\n\n\"Come!\" he whispered.  \"We must hurry.\"  And then, as though she had\nawakened from a sleep, Meriem came to herself.  Back there, fighting\nher enemies, alone, was Korak--her Korak.  Her place was by his side,\nfighting with him and for him.  She glanced up at Baynes.\n\n\"Go!\" she called.  \"Make your way back to Bwana and bring help.  My\nplace is here.  You can do no good remaining.  Get away while you can\nand bring the Big Bwana back with you.\"\n\nSilently the Hon. Morison Baynes slid to the ground inside the palisade\nto Meriem's side.\n\n\"It was only for you that I left him,\" he said, nodding toward the\ntents they had just left.  \"I knew that he could hold them longer than\nI and give you a chance to escape that I might not be able to have\ngiven you.  It was I though who should have remained.  I heard you call\nhim Korak and so I know now who he is.  He befriended you.  I would\nhave wronged you.  No--don't interrupt.  I'm going to tell you the\ntruth now and let you know just what a beast I have been.  I planned to\ntake you to London, as you know; but I did not plan to marry you.  Yes,\nshrink from me--I deserve it.  I deserve your contempt and loathing;\nbut I didn't know then what love was.  Since I have learned that I have\nlearned something else--what a cad and what a coward I have been all my\nlife.  I looked down upon those whom I considered my social inferiors.\nI did not think you good enough to bear my name.  Since Hanson tricked\nme and took you for himself I have been through hell; but it has made a\nman of me, though too late.  Now I can come to you with an offer of\nhonest love, which will realize the honor of having such as you share\nmy name with me.\"\n\nFor a moment Meriem was silent, buried in thought.  Her first question\nseemed irrelevant.\n\n\"How did you happen to be in this village?\" she asked.\n\nHe told her all that had transpired since the black had told him of\nHanson's duplicity.\n\n\"You say that you are a coward,\" she said, \"and yet you have done all\nthis to save me?  The courage that it must have taken to tell me the\nthings that you told me but a moment since, while courage of a\ndifferent sort, proves that you are no moral coward, and the other\nproves that you are not a physical coward.  I could not love a coward.\"\n\n\"You mean that you love me?\" he gasped in astonishment, taking a step\ntoward her as though to gather her into his arms; but she placed her\nhand against him and pushed him gently away, as much as to say, not\nyet.  What she did mean she scarcely knew.  She thought that she loved\nhim, of that there can be no question; nor did she think that love for\nthis young Englishman was disloyalty to Korak, for her love for Korak\nwas undiminished--the love of a sister for an indulgent brother.  As\nthey stood there for the moment of their conversation the sounds of\ntumult in the village subsided.\n\n\"They have killed him,\" whispered Meriem.\n\nThe statement brought Baynes to a realization of the cause of their\nreturn.\n\n\"Wait here,\" he said.  \"I will go and see.  If he is dead we can do him\nno good.  If he lives I will do my best to free him.\"\n\n\"We will go together,\" replied Meriem.  \"Come!\"  And she led the way\nback toward the tent in which they last had seen Korak.  As they went\nthey were often forced to throw themselves to the ground in the shadow\nof a tent or hut, for people were passing hurriedly to and fro now--the\nwhole village was aroused and moving about.  The return to the tent of\nAli ben Kadin took much longer than had their swift flight to the\npalisade.  Cautiously they crept to the slit that Korak's knife had\nmade in the rear wall.  Meriem peered within--the rear apartment was\nempty.  She crawled through the aperture, Baynes at her heels, and then\nsilently crossed the space to the rugs that partitioned the tent into\ntwo rooms.  Parting the hangings Meriem looked into the front room.\nIt, too, was deserted.  She crossed to the door of the tent and looked\nout.  Then she gave a little gasp of horror.  Baynes at her shoulder\nlooked past her to the sight that had startled her, and he, too,\nexclaimed; but his was an oath of anger.\n\nA hundred feet away they saw Korak bound to a stake--the brush piled\nabout him already alight.  The Englishman pushed Meriem to one side and\nstarted to run for the doomed man.  What he could do in the face of\nscores of hostile blacks and Arabs he did not stop to consider.  At the\nsame instant Tantor broke through the palisade and charged the group.\nIn the face of the maddened beast the crowd turned and fled, carrying\nBaynes backward with them.  In a moment it was all over, and the\nelephant had disappeared with his prize; but pandemonium reigned\nthroughout the village.  Men, women and children ran helter skelter for\nsafety.  Curs fled, yelping.  The horses and camels and donkeys,\nterrorized by the trumpeting of the pachyderm, kicked and pulled at\ntheir tethers.  A dozen or more broke loose, and it was the galloping\nof these past him that brought a sudden idea into Baynes' head.  He\nturned to search for Meriem only to find her at his elbow.\n\n\"The horses!\" he cried.  \"If we can get a couple of them!\"\n\nFilled with the idea Meriem led him to the far end of the village.\n\n\"Loosen two of them,\" she said, \"and lead them back into the shadows\nbehind those huts.  I know where there are saddles.  I will bring them\nand the bridles,\" and before he could stop her she was gone.\n\nBaynes quickly untied two of the restive animals and led them to the\npoint designated by Meriem.  Here he waited impatiently for what seemed\nan hour; but was, in reality, but a few minutes.  Then he saw the girl\napproaching beneath the burden of two saddles.  Quickly they placed\nthese upon the horses.  They could see by the light of the torture fire\nthat still burned that the blacks and Arabs were recovering from their\npanic.  Men were running about gathering in the loose stock, and two or\nthree were already leading their captives back to the end of the\nvillage where Meriem and Baynes were busy with the trappings of their\nmounts.\n\nNow the girl flung herself into the saddle.\n\n\"Hurry!\" she whispered.  \"We shall have to run for it.  Ride through\nthe gap that Tantor made,\" and as she saw Baynes swing his leg over the\nback of his horse, she shook the reins free over her mount's neck.\nWith a lunge, the nervous beast leaped forward.  The shortest path led\nstraight through the center of the village, and this Meriem took.\nBaynes was close behind her, their horses running at full speed.\n\nSo sudden and impetuous was their dash for escape that it carried them\nhalf-way across the village before the surprised inhabitants were aware\nof what was happening.  Then an Arab recognized them, and, with a cry\nof alarm, raised his rifle and fired.  The shot was a signal for a\nvolley, and amid the rattle of musketry Meriem and Baynes leaped their\nflying mounts through the breach in the palisade and were gone up the\nwell-worn trail toward the north.\n\nAnd Korak?\n\nTantor carried him deep into the jungle, nor paused until no sound from\nthe distant village reached his keen ears.  Then he laid his burden\ngently down.  Korak struggled to free himself from his bonds, but even\nhis great strength was unable to cope with the many strands of\nhard-knotted cord that bound him.  While he lay there, working and\nresting by turns, the elephant stood guard above him, nor was there\njungle enemy with the hardihood to tempt the sudden death that lay in\nthat mighty bulk.\n\nDawn came, and still Korak was no nearer freedom than before.  He\ncommenced to believe that he should die there of thirst and starvation\nwith plenty all about him, for he knew that Tantor could not unloose\nthe knots that held him.\n\nAnd while he struggled through the night with his bonds, Baynes and\nMeriem were riding rapidly northward along the river.  The girl had\nassured Baynes that Korak was safe in the jungle with Tantor.  It had\nnot occurred to her that the ape-man might not be able to burst his\nbonds.  Baynes had been wounded by a shot from the rifle of one of the\nArabs, and the girl wanted to get him back to Bwana's home, where he\ncould be properly cared for.\n\n\"Then,\" she said, \"I shall get Bwana to come with me and search for\nKorak.  He must come and live with us.\"\n\nAll night they rode, and the day was still young when they came\nsuddenly upon a party hurrying southward.  It was Bwana himself and his\nsleek, black warriors.  At sight of Baynes the big Englishman's brows\ncontracted in a scowl; but he waited to hear Meriem's story before\ngiving vent to the long anger in his breast.  When she had finished he\nseemed to have forgotten Baynes.  His thoughts were occupied with\nanother subject.\n\n\"You say that you found Korak?\" he asked.  \"You really saw him?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Meriem; \"as plainly as I see you, and I want you to come\nwith me, Bwana, and help me find him again.\"\n\n\"Did you see him?\"  He turned toward the Hon. Morison.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" replied Baynes; \"very plainly.\"\n\n\"What sort of appearing man is he?\" continued Bwana.  \"About how old,\nshould you say?\"\n\n\"I should say he was an Englishman, about my own age,\" replied Baynes;\n\"though he might be older.  He is remarkably muscled, and exceedingly\ntanned.\"\n\n\"His eyes and hair, did you notice them?\"  Bwana spoke rapidly, almost\nexcitedly.  It was Meriem who answered him.\n\n\"Korak's hair is black and his eyes are gray,\" she said.\n\nBwana turned to his headman.\n\n\"Take Miss Meriem and Mr. Baynes home,\" he said.  \"I am going into the\njungle.\"\n\n\"Let me go with you, Bwana,\" cried Meriem.  \"You are going to search\nfor Korak.  Let me go, too.\"\n\nBwana turned sadly but firmly upon the girl.\n\n\"Your place,\" he said, \"is beside the man you love.\"\n\nThen he motioned to his head-man to take his horse and commence the\nreturn journey to the farm.  Meriem slowly mounted the tired Arab that\nhad brought her from the village of The Sheik.  A litter was rigged for\nthe now feverish Baynes, and the little cavalcade was soon slowly\nwinding off along the river trail.\n\nBwana stood watching them until they were out of sight.  Not once had\nMeriem turned her eyes backward.  She rode with bowed head and drooping\nshoulders.  Bwana sighed.  He loved the little Arab girl as he might\nhave loved an own daughter.  He realized that Baynes had redeemed\nhimself, and so he could interpose no objections now if Meriem really\nloved the man; but, somehow, some way, Bwana could not convince himself\nthat the Hon. Morison was worthy of his little Meriem.  Slowly he\nturned toward a nearby tree.  Leaping upward he caught a lower branch\nand drew himself up among the branches.  His movements were cat-like\nand agile.  High into the trees he made his way and there commenced to\ndivest himself of his clothing. From the game bag slung across one\nshoulder he drew a long strip of doe-skin, a neatly coiled rope, and a\nwicked looking knife.  The doe-skin, he fashioned into a loin cloth,\nthe rope he looped over one shoulder, and the knife he thrust into the\nbelt formed by his gee string.\n\nWhen he stood erect, his head thrown back and his great chest expanded\na grim smile touched his lips for a moment.  His nostrils dilated as he\nsniffed the jungle odors.  His gray eyes narrowed.  He crouched and\nleaped to a lower limb and was away through the trees toward the\nsoutheast, bearing away from the river.  He moved swiftly, stopping\nonly occasionally to raise his voice in a weird and piercing scream,\nand to listen for a moment after for a reply.\n\nHe had traveled thus for several hours when, ahead of him and a little\nto his left, he heard, far off in the jungle, a faint response--the cry\nof a bull ape answering his cry.  His nerves tingled and his eyes\nlighted as the sound fell upon his ears.  Again he voiced his hideous\ncall, and sped forward in the new direction.\n\nKorak, finally becoming convinced that he must die if he remained where\nhe was, waiting for the succor that could not come, spoke to Tantor in\nthe strange tongue that the great beast understood.  He commanded the\nelephant to lift him and carry him toward the northeast.  There,\nrecently, Korak had seen both white men and black.  If he could come\nupon one of the latter it would be a simple matter to command Tantor to\ncapture the fellow, and then Korak could get him to release him from\nthe stake.  It was worth trying at least--better than lying there in\nthe jungle until he died.  As Tantor bore him along through the forest\nKorak called aloud now and then in the hope of attracting Akut's band\nof anthropoids, whose wanderings often brought them into their\nneighborhood.  Akut, he thought, might possibly be able to negotiate\nthe knots--he had done so upon that other occasion when the Russian had\nbound Korak years before; and Akut, to the south of him, heard his\ncalls faintly, and came.  There was another who heard them, too.\n\nAfter Bwana had left his party, sending them back toward the farm,\nMeriem had ridden for a short distance with bowed head.  What thoughts\npassed through that active brain who may say?  Presently she seemed to\ncome to a decision.  She called the headman to her side.\n\n\"I am going back with Bwana,\" she announced.\n\nThe black shook his head.  \"No!\" he announced.  \"Bwana says I take you\nhome.  So I take you home.\"\n\n\"You refuse to let me go?\" asked the girl.\n\nThe black nodded, and fell to the rear where he might better watch her.\nMeriem half smiled.  Presently her horse passed beneath a low-hanging\nbranch, and the black headman found himself gazing at the girl's empty\nsaddle.  He ran forward to the tree into which she had disappeared.  He\ncould see nothing of her.  He called; but there was no response, unless\nit might have been a low, taunting laugh far to the right.  He sent his\nmen into the jungle to search for her; but they came back empty handed.\nAfter a while he resumed his march toward the farm, for Baynes, by this\ntime, was delirious with fever.\n\nMeriem raced straight back toward the point she imagined Tantor would\nmake for--a point where she knew the elephants often gathered deep in\nthe forest due east of The Sheik's village.  She moved silently and\nswiftly.  From her mind she had expunged all thoughts other than that\nshe must reach Korak and bring him back with her.  It was her place to\ndo that.  Then, too, had come the tantalizing fear that all might not\nbe well with him.  She upbraided herself for not thinking of that\nbefore--of letting her desire to get the wounded Morison back to the\nbungalow blind her to the possibilities of Korak's need for her.  She\nhad been traveling rapidly for several hours without rest when she\nheard ahead of her the familiar cry of a great ape calling to his kind.\n\nShe did not reply, only increased her speed until she almost flew.  Now\nthere came to her sensitive nostrils the scent of Tantor and she knew\nthat she was on the right trail and close to him she sought.  She did\nnot call out because she wished to surprise him, and presently she did,\nbreaking into sight of them as the great elephant shuffled ahead\nbalancing the man and the heavy stake upon his head, holding them there\nwith his upcurled trunk.\n\n\"Korak!\" cried Meriem from the foliage above him.\n\nInstantly the bull swung about, lowered his burden to the ground and,\ntrumpeting savagely, prepared to defend his comrade.  The ape-man,\nrecognizing the girl's voice, felt a sudden lump in his throat.\n\n\"Meriem!\" he called back to her.\n\nHappily the girl clambered to the ground and ran forward to release\nKorak; but Tantor lowered his head ominously and trumpeted a warning.\n\n\"Go back!  Go back!\" cried Korak.  \"He will kill you.\"\n\nMeriem paused.  \"Tantor!\" she called to the huge brute.  \"Don't you\nremember me?  I am little Meriem.  I used to ride on your broad back;\"\nbut the bull only rumbled in his throat and shook his tusks in angry\ndefiance.  Then Korak tried to placate him.  Tried to order him away,\nthat the girl might approach and release him; but Tantor would not go.\nHe saw in every human being other than Korak an enemy.  He thought the\ngirl bent upon harming his friend and he would take no chances.  For an\nhour the girl and the man tried to find some means whereby they might\ncircumvent the beast's ill directed guardianship, but all to no avail;\nTantor stood his ground in grim determination to let no one approach\nKorak.\n\nPresently the man hit upon a scheme.  \"Pretend to go away,\" he called\nto the girl.  \"Keep down wind from us so that Tantor won't get your\nscent, then follow us.  After a while I'll have him put me down, and\nfind some pretext for sending him away.  While he is gone you can slip\nup and cut my bonds--have you a knife?\"\n\n\"Yes, I have a knife,\" she replied.  \"I'll go now--I think we may be\nable to fool him; but don't be too sure--Tantor invented cunning.\"\n\nKorak smiled, for he knew that the girl was right.  Presently she had\ndisappeared.  The elephant listened, and raised his trunk to catch her\nscent.  Korak commanded him to raise him to his head once more and\nproceed upon their way.  After a moment's hesitation he did as he was\nbid.  It was then that Korak heard the distant call of an ape.\n\n\"Akut!\" he thought.  \"Good!  Tantor knew Akut well.  He would let him\napproach.\"  Raising his voice Korak replied to the call of the ape; but\nhe let Tantor move off with him through the jungle; it would do no harm\nto try the other plan.  They had come to a clearing and plainly Korak\nsmelled water.  Here was a good place and a good excuse.  He ordered\nTantor to lay him down, and go and fetch him water in his trunk.  The\nbig beast deposited him upon the grass in the center of the clearing,\nthen he stood with cocked ears and attentive trunk, searching for the\nslightest indication of danger--there seemed to be none and he moved\naway in the direction of the little brook that Korak knew was some two\nor three hundred yards away.  The ape-man could scarce help smiling as\nhe thought how cleverly he had tricked his friend; but well as he knew\nTantor he little guessed the guile of his cunning brain.  The animal\nambled off across the clearing and disappeared in the jungle beyond in\nthe direction of the stream; but scarce had his great bulk been\nscreened by the dense foliage than he wheeled about and came cautiously\nback to the edge of the clearing where he could see without being seen.\nTantor, by nature, is suspicious.  Now he still feared the return of\nthe she Tarmangani who had attempted to attack his Korak.  He would\njust stand there for a moment and assure himself that all was well\nbefore he continued on toward the water.  Ah!  It was well that he did!\nThere she was now dropping from the branches of a tree across the\nclearing and running swiftly toward the ape-man.  Tantor waited.  He\nwould let her reach Korak before he charged--that would ensure that she\nhad no chance of escape.  His little eyes blazed savagely.  His tail\nwas elevated stiffly.  He could scarce restrain a desire to trumpet\nforth his rage to the world.  Meriem was almost at Korak's side when\nTantor saw the long knife in her hand, and then he broke forth from the\njungle, bellowing horribly, and charged down upon the frail girl.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 27\n\n\nKorak screamed commands to his huge protector, in an effort to halt\nhim; but all to no avail.  Meriem raced toward the bordering trees with\nall the speed that lay in her swift, little feet; but Tantor, for all\nhis huge bulk, drove down upon her with the rapidity of an express\ntrain.\n\nKorak lay where he could see the whole frightful tragedy.  The cold\nsweat broke out upon his body.  His heart seemed to have stopped its\nbeating.  Meriem might reach the trees before Tantor overtook her, but\neven her agility would not carry her beyond the reach of that\nrelentless trunk--she would be dragged down and tossed.  Korak could\npicture the whole frightful scene.  Then Tantor would follow her up,\ngoring the frail, little body with his relentless tusks, or trampling\nit into an unrecognizable mass beneath his ponderous feet.\n\nHe was almost upon her now.  Korak wanted to close his eyes, but could\nnot.  His throat was dry and parched.  Never in all his savage\nexistence had he suffered such blighting terror--never before had he\nknown what terror meant.  A dozen more strides and the brute would\nseize her.  What was that?  Korak's eyes started from their sockets.  A\nstrange figure had leaped from the tree the shade of which Meriem\nalready had reached--leaped beyond the girl straight into the path of\nthe charging elephant.  It was a naked white giant.  Across his\nshoulder a coil of rope was looped.  In the band of his gee string was\na hunting knife.  Otherwise he was unarmed.  With naked hands he faced\nthe maddening Tantor.  A sharp command broke from the stranger's\nlips--the great beast halted in his tracks--and Meriem swung herself\nupward into the tree to safety.  Korak breathed a sigh of relief not\nunmixed with wonder.  He fastened his eyes upon the face of Meriem's\ndeliverer and as recognition slowly filtered into his understanding\nthey went wide in incredulity and surprise.\n\nTantor, still rumbling angrily, stood swaying to and fro close before\nthe giant white man.  Then the latter stepped straight beneath the\nupraised trunk and spoke a low word of command.  The great beast ceased\nhis muttering.  The savage light died from his eyes, and as the\nstranger stepped forward toward Korak, Tantor trailed docilely at his\nheels.\n\nMeriem was watching, too, and wondering.  Suddenly the man turned\ntoward her as though recollecting her presence after a moment of\nforgetfulness.  \"Come!  Meriem,\" he called, and then she recognized him\nwith a startled:  \"Bwana!\"  Quickly the girl dropped from the tree and\nran to his side.  Tantor cocked a questioning eye at the white giant,\nbut receiving a warning word let Meriem approach.  Together the two\nwalked to where Korak lay, his eyes wide with wonder and filled with a\npathetic appeal for forgiveness, and, mayhap, a glad thankfulness for\nthe miracle that had brought these two of all others to his side.\n\n\"Jack!\" cried the white giant, kneeling at the ape-man's side.\n\n\"Father!\" came chokingly from The Killer's lips.  \"Thank God that it\nwas you.  No one else in all the jungle could have stopped Tantor.\"\n\nQuickly the man cut the bonds that held Korak, and as the youth leaped\nto his feet and threw his arms about his father, the older man turned\ntoward Meriem.\n\n\"I thought,\" he said, sternly, \"that I told you to return to the farm.\"\n\nKorak was looking at them wonderingly.  In his heart was a great\nyearning to take the girl in his arms; but in time he remembered the\nother--the dapper young English gentleman--and that he was but a\nsavage, uncouth ape-man.\n\nMeriem looked up pleadingly into Bwana's eyes.\n\n\"You told me,\" she said, in a very small voice, \"that my place was\nbeside the man I loved,\" and she turned her eyes toward Korak all\nfilled with the wonderful light that no other man had yet seen in them,\nand that none other ever would.\n\nThe Killer started toward her with outstretched arms; but suddenly he\nfell upon one knee before her, instead, and lifting her hand to his\nlips kissed it more reverently than he could have kissed the hand of\nhis country's queen.\n\nA rumble from Tantor brought the three, all jungle bred, to instant\nalertness.  Tantor was looking toward the trees behind them, and as\ntheir eyes followed his gaze the head and shoulders of a great ape\nappeared amidst the foliage.  For a moment the creature eyed them, and\nthen from its throat rose a loud scream of recognition and of joy, and\na moment later the beast had leaped to the ground, followed by a score\nof bulls like himself, and was waddling toward them, shouting in the\nprimordial tongue of the anthropoid:\n\n\"Tarzan has returned!  Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle!\"\n\nIt was Akut, and instantly he commenced leaping and bounding about the\ntrio, uttering hideous shrieks and mouthings that to any other human\nbeings might have indicated the most ferocious rage; but these three\nknew that the king of the apes was doing homage to a king greater than\nhimself.  In his wake leaped his shaggy bulls, vying with one another\nas to which could spring the highest and which utter the most uncanny\nsounds.\n\nKorak laid his hand affectionately upon his father's shoulder.\n\n\"There is but one Tarzan,\" he said.  \"There can never be another.\"\n\n\nTwo days later the three dropped from the trees on the edge of the\nplain across which they could see the smoke rising from the bungalow\nand the cook house chimneys.  Tarzan of the Apes had regained his\ncivilized clothing from the tree where he had hidden it, and as Korak\nrefused to enter the presence of his mother in the savage half-raiment\nthat he had worn so long and as Meriem would not leave him, for fear,\nas she explained, that he would change his mind and run off into the\njungle again, the father went on ahead to the bungalow for horses and\nclothes.\n\nMy Dear met him at the gate, her eyes filled with questioning and\nsorrow, for she saw that Meriem was not with him.\n\n\"Where is she?\" she asked, her voice trembling.  \"Muviri told me that\nshe disobeyed your instructions and ran off into the jungle after you\nhad left them.  Oh, John, I cannot bear to lose her, too!\" And Lady\nGreystoke broke down and wept, as she pillowed her head upon the broad\nbreast where so often before she had found comfort in the great\ntragedies of her life.\n\nLord Greystoke raised her head and looked down into her eyes, his own\nsmiling and filled with the light of happiness.\n\n\"What is it, John?\" she cried.  \"You have good news--do not keep me\nwaiting for it.\"\n\n\"I want to be quite sure that you can stand hearing the best news that\never came to either of us,\" he said.\n\n\"Joy never kills,\" she cried.  \"You have found--her?\"  She could not\nbring herself to hope for the impossible.\n\n\"Yes, Jane,\" he said, and his voice was husky with emotion; \"I have\nfound her, and--HIM!\"\n\n\"Where is he?  Where are they?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Out there at the edge of the jungle.  He wouldn't come to you in his\nsavage leopard skin and his nakedness--he sent me to fetch him\ncivilized clothing.\"\n\nShe clapped her hands in ecstasy, and turned to run toward the\nbungalow.  \"Wait!\" she cried over her shoulder.  \"I have all his little\nsuits--I have saved them all.  I will bring one to you.\"\n\nTarzan laughed and called to her to stop.\n\n\"The only clothing on the place that will fit him,\" he said, \"is\nmine--if it isn't too small for him--your little boy has grown, Jane.\"\n\nShe laughed, too; she felt like laughing at everything, or at nothing.\nThe world was all love and happiness and joy once more--the world that\nhad been shrouded in the gloom of her great sorrow for so many years.\nSo great was her joy that for the moment she forgot the sad message\nthat awaited Meriem.  She called to Tarzan after he had ridden away to\nprepare her for it, but he did not hear and rode on without knowing\nhimself what the event was to which his wife referred.\n\nAnd so, an hour later, Korak, The Killer, rode home to his mother--the\nmother whose image had never faded in his boyish heart--and found in\nher arms and her eyes the love and forgiveness that he plead for.\n\nAnd then the mother turned toward Meriem, an expression of pitying\nsorrow erasing the happiness from her eyes.\n\n\"My little girl,\" she said, \"in the midst of our happiness a great\nsorrow awaits you--Mr. Baynes did not survive his wound.\"\n\nThe expression of sorrow in Meriem's eyes expressed only what she\nsincerely felt; but it was not the sorrow of a woman bereft of her best\nbeloved.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" she said, quite simply.  \"He would have done me a great\nwrong; but he amply atoned before he died.  Once I thought that I loved\nhim.  At first it was only fascination for a type that was new to\nme--then it was respect for a brave man who had the moral courage to\nadmit a sin and the physical courage to face death to right the wrong\nhe had committed.  But it was not love.  I did not know what love was\nuntil I knew that Korak lived,\" and she turned toward The Killer with a\nsmile.\n\nLady Greystoke looked quickly up into the eyes of her son--the son who\none day would be Lord Greystoke.  No thought of the difference in the\nstations of the girl and her boy entered her mind.  To her Meriem was\nfit for a king.  She only wanted to know that Jack loved the little\nArab waif.  The look in his eyes answered the question in her heart,\nand she threw her arms about them both and kissed them each a dozen\ntimes.\n\n\"Now,\" she cried, \"I shall really have a daughter!\"\n\nIt was several weary marches to the nearest mission; but they only\nwaited at the farm a few days for rest and preparation for the great\nevent before setting out upon the journey, and after the marriage\nceremony had been performed they kept on to the coast to take passage\nfor England.  Those days were the most wonderful of Meriem's life.  She\nhad not dreamed even vaguely of the marvels that civilization held in\nstore for her.  The great ocean and the commodious steamship filled her\nwith awe.  The noise, and bustle and confusion of the English railway\nstation frightened her.\n\n\"If there was a good-sized tree at hand,\" she confided to Korak, \"I\nknow that I should run to the very top of it in terror of my life.\"\n\n\"And make faces and throw twigs at the engine?\" he laughed back.\n\n\"Poor old Numa,\" sighed the girl.  \"What will he do without us?\"\n\n\"Oh, there are others to tease him, my little Mangani,\" assured Korak.\n\nThe Greystoke town house quite took Meriem's breath away; but when\nstrangers were about none might guess that she had not been to the\nmanner born.\n\nThey had been home but a week when Lord Greystoke received a message\nfrom his friend of many years, D'Arnot.\n\nIt was in the form of a letter of introduction brought by one General\nArmand Jacot.  Lord Greystoke recalled the name, as who familiar with\nmodern French history would not, for Jacot was in reality the Prince de\nCadrenet--that intense republican who refused to use, even by courtesy,\na title that had belonged to his family for four hundred years.\n\n\"There is no place for princes in a republic,\" he was wont to say.\n\nLord Greystoke received the hawk-nosed, gray mustached soldier in his\nlibrary, and after a dozen words the two men had formed a mutual esteem\nthat was to endure through life.\n\n\"I have come to you,\" explained General Jacot, \"because our dear\nAdmiral tells me that there is no one in all the world who is more\nintimately acquainted with Central Africa than you.\n\n\"Let me tell you my story from the beginning.  Many years ago my little\ndaughter was stolen, presumably by Arabs, while I was serving with the\nForeign Legion in Algeria.  We did all that love and money and even\ngovernment resources could do to discover her; but all to no avail.\nHer picture was published in the leading papers of every large city in\nthe world, yet never did we find a man or woman who ever had seen her\nsince the day she mysteriously disappeared.\n\n\"A week since there came to me in Paris a swarthy Arab, who called\nhimself Abdul Kamak.  He said that he had found my daughter and could\nlead me to her.  I took him at once to Admiral d'Arnot, whom I knew had\ntraveled some in Central Africa.  The man's story led the Admiral to\nbelieve that the place where the white girl the Arab supposed to be my\ndaughter was held in captivity was not far from your African estates,\nand he advised that I come at once and call upon you--that you would\nknow if such a girl were in your neighborhood.\"\n\n\"What proof did the Arab bring that she was your daughter?\" asked Lord\nGreystoke.\n\n\"None,\" replied the other.  \"That is why we thought best to consult you\nbefore organizing an expedition.  The fellow had only an old photograph\nof her on the back of which was pasted a newspaper cutting describing\nher and offering a reward.  We feared that having found this somewhere\nit had aroused his cupidity and led him to believe that in some way he\ncould obtain the reward, possibly by foisting upon us a white girl on\nthe chance that so many years had elapsed that we would not be able to\nrecognize an imposter as such.\"\n\n\"Have you the photograph with you?\" asked Lord Greystoke.\n\nThe General drew an envelope from his pocket, took a yellowed\nphotograph from it and handed it to the Englishman.\n\nTears dimmed the old warrior's eyes as they fell again upon the\npictured features of his lost daughter.\n\nLord Greystoke examined the photograph for a moment.  A queer\nexpression entered his eyes.  He touched a bell at his elbow, and an\ninstant later a footman entered.\n\n\"Ask my son's wife if she will be so good as to come to the library,\"\nhe directed.\n\nThe two men sat in silence.  General Jacot was too well bred to show in\nany way the chagrin and disappointment he felt in the summary manner in\nwhich Lord Greystoke had dismissed the subject of his call.  As soon as\nthe young lady had come and he had been presented he would make his\ndeparture.  A moment later Meriem entered.\n\nLord Greystoke and General Jacot rose and faced her.  The Englishman\nspoke no word of introduction--he wanted to mark the effect of the\nfirst sight of the girl's face on the Frenchman, for he had a theory--a\nheaven-born theory that had leaped into his mind the moment his eyes\nhad rested on the baby face of Jeanne Jacot.\n\nGeneral Jacot took one look at Meriem, then he turned toward Lord\nGreystoke.\n\n\"How long have you known it?\" he asked, a trifle accusingly.\n\n\"Since you showed me that photograph a moment ago,\" replied the\nEnglishman.\n\n\"It is she,\" said Jacot, shaking with suppressed emotion; \"but she does\nnot recognize me--of course she could not.\"  Then he turned to Meriem.\n\"My child,\" he said, \"I am your--\"\n\nBut she interrupted him with a quick, glad cry, as she ran toward him\nwith outstretched arms.\n\n\"I know you!  I know you!\" she cried.  \"Oh, now I remember,\" and the\nold man folded her in his arms.\n\nJack Clayton and his mother were summoned, and when the story had been\ntold them they were only glad that little Meriem had found a father and\na mother.\n\n\"And really you didn't marry an Arab waif after all,\" said Meriem.\n\"Isn't it fine!\"\n\n\"You are fine,\" replied The Killer.  \"I married my little Meriem, and I\ndon't care, for my part, whether she is an Arab, or just a little\nTarmangani.\"\n\n\"She is neither, my son,\" said General Armand Jacot.  \"She is a\nprincess in her own right.\""