"Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar\n\n\nBy\n\nEdgar Rice Burroughs\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\nCHAPTER\n\n   1  Belgian and Arab\n   2  On the Road to Opar\n   3  The Call of the Jungle\n   4  Prophecy and Fulfillment\n   5  The Altar of the Flaming God\n   6  The Arab Raid\n   7  The Jewel-Room of Opar\n   8  The Escape from Opar\n   9  The Theft of the Jewels\n  10  Achmet Zek Sees the Jewels\n  11  Tarzan Becomes a Beast Again\n  12  La Seeks Vengeance\n  13  Condemned to Torture and Death\n  14  A Priestess But Yet a Woman\n  15  The Flight of Werper\n  16  Tarzan Again Leads the Mangani\n  17  The Deadly Peril of Jane Clayton\n  18  The Fight For the Treasure\n  19  Jane Clayton and The Beasts of the Jungle\n  20  Jane Clayton Again a Prisoner\n  21  The Flight to the Jungle\n  22  Tarzan Recovers His Reason\n  23  A Night of Terror\n  24  Home\n\n\n\n\n1\n\nBelgian and Arab\n\n\nLieutenant Albert Werper had only the prestige of the name he had\ndishonored to thank for his narrow escape from being cashiered.  At\nfirst he had been humbly thankful, too, that they had sent him to this\nGodforsaken Congo post instead of court-martialing him, as he had so\njustly deserved; but now six months of the monotony, the frightful\nisolation and the loneliness had wrought a change.  The young man\nbrooded continually over his fate.  His days were filled with morbid\nself-pity, which eventually engendered in his weak and vacillating mind\na hatred for those who had sent him here--for the very men he had at\nfirst inwardly thanked for saving him from the ignominy of degradation.\n\nHe regretted the gay life of Brussels as he never had regretted the\nsins which had snatched him from that gayest of capitals, and as the\ndays passed he came to center his resentment upon the representative in\nCongo land of the authority which had exiled him--his captain and\nimmediate superior.\n\nThis officer was a cold, taciturn man, inspiring little love in those\ndirectly beneath him, yet respected and feared by the black soldiers of\nhis little command.\n\nWerper was accustomed to sit for hours glaring at his superior as the\ntwo sat upon the veranda of their common quarters, smoking their\nevening cigarets in a silence which neither seemed desirous of\nbreaking.  The senseless hatred of the lieutenant grew at last into a\nform of mania.  The captain's natural taciturnity he distorted into a\nstudied attempt to insult him because of his past shortcomings.  He\nimagined that his superior held him in contempt, and so he chafed and\nfumed inwardly until one evening his madness became suddenly homicidal.\nHe fingered the butt of the revolver at his hip, his eyes narrowed and\nhis brows contracted.  At last he spoke.\n\n\"You have insulted me for the last time!\" he cried, springing to his\nfeet.  \"I am an officer and a gentleman, and I shall put up with it no\nlonger without an accounting from you, you pig.\"\n\nThe captain, an expression of surprise upon his features, turned toward\nhis junior.  He had seen men before with the jungle madness upon\nthem--the madness of solitude and unrestrained brooding, and perhaps a\ntouch of fever.\n\nHe rose and extended his hand to lay it upon the other's shoulder.\nQuiet words of counsel were upon his lips; but they were never spoken.\nWerper construed his superior's action into an attempt to close with\nhim.  His revolver was on a level with the captain's heart, and the\nlatter had taken but a step when Werper pulled the trigger.  Without a\nmoan the man sank to the rough planking of the veranda, and as he fell\nthe mists that had clouded Werper's brain lifted, so that he saw\nhimself and the deed that he had done in the same light that those who\nmust judge him would see them.\n\nHe heard excited exclamations from the quarters of the soldiers and he\nheard men running in his direction.  They would seize him, and if they\ndidn't kill him they would take him down the Congo to a point where a\nproperly ordered military tribunal would do so just as effectively,\nthough in a more regular manner.\n\nWerper had no desire to die.  Never before had he so yearned for life\nas in this moment that he had so effectively forfeited his right to\nlive.  The men were nearing him.  What was he to do?  He glanced about\nas though searching for the tangible form of a legitimate excuse for\nhis crime; but he could find only the body of the man he had so\ncauselessly shot down.\n\nIn despair, he turned and fled from the oncoming soldiery.  Across the\ncompound he ran, his revolver still clutched tightly in his hand.  At\nthe gates a sentry halted him.  Werper did not pause to parley or to\nexert the influence of his commission--he merely raised his weapon and\nshot down the innocent black.  A moment later the fugitive had torn\nopen the gates and vanished into the blackness of the jungle, but not\nbefore he had transferred the rifle and ammunition belts of the dead\nsentry to his own person.\n\nAll that night Werper fled farther and farther into the heart of the\nwilderness.  Now and again the voice of a lion brought him to a\nlistening halt; but with cocked and ready rifle he pushed ahead again,\nmore fearful of the human huntsmen in his rear than of the wild\ncarnivora ahead.\n\nDawn came at last, but still the man plodded on.  All sense of hunger\nand fatigue were lost in the terrors of contemplated capture.  He could\nthink only of escape.  He dared not pause to rest or eat until there\nwas no further danger from pursuit, and so he staggered on until at\nlast he fell and could rise no more.  How long he had fled he did not\nknow, or try to know.  When he could flee no longer the knowledge that\nhe had reached his limit was hidden from him in the unconsciousness of\nutter exhaustion.\n\nAnd thus it was that Achmet Zek, the Arab, found him.  Achmet's\nfollowers were for running a spear through the body of their hereditary\nenemy; but Achmet would have it otherwise.  First he would question the\nBelgian.  It were easier to question a man first and kill him\nafterward, than kill him first and then question him.\n\nSo he had Lieutenant Albert Werper carried to his own tent, and there\nslaves administered wine and food in small quantities until at last the\nprisoner regained consciousness.  As he opened his eyes he saw the\nfaces of strange black men about him, and just outside the tent the\nfigure of an Arab.  Nowhere was the uniform of his soldiers to be seen.\n\nThe Arab turned and seeing the open eyes of the prisoner upon him,\nentered the tent.\n\n\"I am Achmet Zek,\" he announced.  \"Who are you, and what were you doing\nin my country?  Where are your soldiers?\"\n\nAchmet Zek!  Werper's eyes went wide, and his heart sank.  He was in\nthe clutches of the most notorious of cut-throats--a hater of all\nEuropeans, especially those who wore the uniform of Belgium.  For years\nthe military forces of Belgian Congo had waged a fruitless war upon\nthis man and his followers--a war in which quarter had never been asked\nnor expected by either side.\n\nBut presently in the very hatred of the man for Belgians, Werper saw a\nfaint ray of hope for himself.  He, too, was an outcast and an outlaw.\nSo far, at least, they possessed a common interest, and Werper decided\nto play upon it for all that it might yield.\n\n\"I have heard of you,\" he replied, \"and was searching for you.  My\npeople have turned against me.  I hate them.  Even now their soldiers\nare searching for me, to kill me.  I knew that you would protect me\nfrom them, for you, too, hate them.  In return I will take service with\nyou.  I am a trained soldier.  I can fight, and your enemies are my\nenemies.\"\n\nAchmet Zek eyed the European in silence.  In his mind he revolved many\nthoughts, chief among which was that the unbeliever lied.  Of course\nthere was the chance that he did not lie, and if he told the truth then\nhis proposition was one well worthy of consideration, since fighting\nmen were never over plentiful--especially white men with the training\nand knowledge of military matters that a European officer must possess.\n\nAchmet Zek scowled and Werper's heart sank; but Werper did not know\nAchmet Zek, who was quite apt to scowl where another would smile, and\nsmile where another would scowl.\n\n\"And if you have lied to me,\" said Achmet Zek, \"I will kill you at any\ntime.  What return, other than your life, do you expect for your\nservices?\"\n\n\"My keep only, at first,\" replied Werper.  \"Later, if I am worth more,\nwe can easily reach an understanding.\" Werper's only desire at the\nmoment was to preserve his life.  And so the agreement was reached and\nLieutenant Albert Werper became a member of the ivory and slave raiding\nband of the notorious Achmet Zek.\n\nFor months the renegade Belgian rode with the savage raider.  He fought\nwith a savage abandon, and a vicious cruelty fully equal to that of his\nfellow desperadoes.  Achmet Zek watched his recruit with eagle eye, and\nwith a growing satisfaction which finally found expression in a greater\nconfidence in the man, and resulted in an increased independence of\naction for Werper.\n\nAchmet Zek took the Belgian into his confidence to a great extent, and\nat last unfolded to him a pet scheme which the Arab had long fostered,\nbut which he never had found an opportunity to effect.  With the aid of\na European, however, the thing might be easily accomplished.  He\nsounded Werper.\n\n\"You have heard of the man men call Tarzan?\" he asked.\n\nWerper nodded.  \"I have heard of him; but I do not know him.\"\n\n\"But for him we might carry on our 'trading' in safety and with great\nprofit,\" continued the Arab.  \"For years he has fought us, driving us\nfrom the richest part of the country, harassing us, and arming the\nnatives that they may repel us when we come to 'trade.' He is very\nrich.  If we could find some way to make him pay us many pieces of gold\nwe should not only be avenged upon him; but repaid for much that he has\nprevented us from winning from the natives under his protection.\"\n\nWerper withdrew a cigaret from a jeweled case and lighted it.\n\n\"And you have a plan to make him pay?\" he asked.\n\n\"He has a wife,\" replied Achmet Zek, \"whom men say is very beautiful.\nShe would bring a great price farther north, if we found it too\ndifficult to collect ransom money from this Tarzan.\"\n\nWerper bent his head in thought.  Achmet Zek stood awaiting his reply.\nWhat good remained in Albert Werper revolted at the thought of selling\na white woman into the slavery and degradation of a Moslem harem.  He\nlooked up at Achmet Zek.  He saw the Arab's eyes narrow, and he guessed\nthat the other had sensed his antagonism to the plan.  What would it\nmean to Werper to refuse?  His life lay in the hands of this\nsemi-barbarian,  who esteemed the life of an unbeliever less highly\nthan that of a dog.  Werper loved life.  What was this woman to him,\nanyway?  She was a European, doubtless, a member of organized society.\nHe was an outcast.  The hand of every white man was against him.  She\nwas his natural enemy, and if he refused to lend himself to her\nundoing, Achmet Zek would have him killed.\n\n\"You hesitate,\" murmured the Arab.\n\n\"I was but weighing the chances of success,\" lied Werper, \"and my\nreward.  As a European I can gain admittance to their home and table.\nYou have no other with you who could do so much.  The risk will be\ngreat.  I should be well paid, Achmet Zek.\"\n\nA smile of relief passed over the raider's face.\n\n\"Well said, Werper,\" and Achmet Zek slapped his lieutenant upon the\nshoulder.  \"You should be well paid and you shall.  Now let us sit\ntogether and plan how best the thing may be done,\" and the two men\nsquatted upon a soft rug beneath the faded silks of Achmet's once\ngorgeous tent, and talked together in low voices well into the night.\nBoth were tall and bearded, and the exposure to sun and wind had given\nan almost Arab hue to the European's complexion.  In every detail of\ndress, too, he copied the fashions of his chief, so that outwardly he\nwas as much an Arab as the other.  It was late when he arose and\nretired to his own tent.\n\nThe following day Werper spent in overhauling his Belgian uniform,\nremoving from it every vestige of evidence that might indicate its\nmilitary purposes.  From a heterogeneous collection of loot, Achmet Zek\nprocured a pith helmet and a European saddle, and from his black slaves\nand followers a party of porters, askaris and tent boys to make up a\nmodest safari for a big game hunter.  At the head of this party Werper\nset out from camp.\n\n\n\n\n2\n\nOn the Road To Opar\n\n\nIt was two weeks later that John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, riding in\nfrom a tour of inspection of his vast African estate, glimpsed the head\nof a column of men crossing the plain that lay between his bungalow and\nthe forest to the north and west.\n\nHe reined in his horse and watched the little party as it emerged from\na concealing swale.  His keen eyes caught the reflection of the sun\nupon the white helmet of a mounted man, and with the conviction that a\nwandering European hunter was seeking his hospitality, he wheeled his\nmount and rode slowly forward to meet the newcomer.\n\nA half hour later he was mounting the steps leading to the veranda of\nhis bungalow, and introducing M. Jules Frecoult to Lady Greystoke.\n\n\"I was completely lost,\" M. Frecoult was explaining.  \"My head man had\nnever before been in this part of the country and the guides who were\nto have accompanied me from the last village we passed knew even less\nof the country than we.  They finally deserted us two days since.  I am\nvery fortunate indeed to have stumbled so providentially upon succor.\nI do not know what I should have done, had I not found you.\"\n\nIt was decided that Frecoult and his party should remain several days,\nor until they were thoroughly rested, when Lord Greystoke would furnish\nguides to lead them safely back into country with which Frecoult's head\nman was supposedly familiar.\n\nIn his guise of a French gentleman of leisure, Werper found little\ndifficulty in deceiving his host and in ingratiating himself with both\nTarzan and Jane Clayton; but the longer he remained the less hopeful he\nbecame of an easy accomplishment of his designs.\n\nLady Greystoke never rode alone at any great distance from the\nbungalow, and the savage loyalty of the ferocious Waziri warriors who\nformed a great part of Tarzan's followers seemed to preclude the\npossibility of a successful attempt at forcible abduction, or of the\nbribery of the Waziri themselves.\n\nA week passed, and Werper was no nearer the fulfillment of his plan, in\nso far as he could judge, than upon the day of his arrival, but at that\nvery moment something occurred which gave him renewed hope and set his\nmind upon an even greater reward than a woman's ransom.\n\nA runner had arrived at the bungalow with the weekly mail, and Lord\nGreystoke had spent the afternoon in his study reading and answering\nletters.  At dinner he seemed distraught, and early in the evening he\nexcused himself and retired, Lady Greystoke following him very soon\nafter.  Werper, sitting upon the veranda, could hear their voices in\nearnest discussion, and having realized that something of unusual\nmoment was afoot, he quietly rose from his chair, and keeping well in\nthe shadow of the shrubbery growing profusely about the bungalow, made\nhis silent way to a point beneath the window of the room in which his\nhost and hostess slept.\n\nHere he listened, and not without result, for almost the first words he\noverheard filled him with excitement.  Lady Greystoke was speaking as\nWerper came within hearing.\n\n\"I always feared for the stability of the company,\" she was saying;\n\"but it seems incredible that they should have failed for so enormous a\nsum--unless there has been some dishonest manipulation.\"\n\n\"That is what I suspect,\" replied Tarzan; \"but whatever the cause, the\nfact remains that I have lost everything, and there is nothing for it\nbut to return to Opar and get more.\"\n\n\"Oh, John,\" cried Lady Greystoke, and Werper could feel the shudder\nthrough her voice, \"is there no other way?  I cannot bear to think of\nyou returning to that frightful city.  I would rather live in poverty\nalways than to have you risk the hideous dangers of Opar.\"\n\n\"You need have no fear,\" replied Tarzan, laughing.  \"I am pretty well\nable to take care of myself, and were I not, the Waziri who will\naccompany me will see that no harm befalls me.\"\n\n\"They ran away from Opar once, and left you to your fate,\" she reminded\nhim.\n\n\"They will not do it again,\" he answered.  \"They were very much ashamed\nof themselves, and were coming back when I met them.\"\n\n\"But there must be some other way,\" insisted the woman.\n\n\"There is no other way half so easy to obtain another fortune, as to go\nto the treasure vaults of Opar and bring it away,\" he replied.  \"I\nshall be very careful, Jane, and the chances are that the inhabitants\nof Opar will never know that I have been there again and despoiled them\nof another portion of the treasure, the very existence of which they\nare as ignorant of as they would be of its value.\"\n\nThe finality in his tone seemed to assure Lady Greystoke that further\nargument was futile, and so she abandoned the subject.\n\nWerper remained, listening, for a short time, and then, confident that\nhe had overheard all that was necessary and fearing discovery, returned\nto the veranda, where he smoked numerous cigarets in rapid succession\nbefore retiring.\n\nThe following morning at breakfast, Werper announced his intention of\nmaking an early departure, and asked Tarzan's permission to hunt big\ngame in the Waziri country on his way out--permission which Lord\nGreystoke readily granted.\n\nThe Belgian consumed two days in completing his preparations, but\nfinally got away with his safari, accompanied by a single Waziri guide\nwhom Lord Greystoke had loaned him.  The party made but a single short\nmarch when Werper simulated illness, and announced his intention of\nremaining where he was until he had fully recovered.  As they had gone\nbut a short distance from the Greystoke bungalow, Werper dismissed the\nWaziri guide, telling the warrior that he would send for him when he\nwas able to proceed.  The Waziri gone, the Belgian summoned one of\nAchmet Zek's trusted blacks to his tent, and dispatched him to watch\nfor the departure of Tarzan, returning immediately to advise Werper of\nthe event and the direction taken by the Englishman.\n\nThe Belgian did not have long to wait, for the following day his\nemissary returned with word that Tarzan and a party of fifty Waziri\nwarriors had set out toward the southeast early in the morning.\n\nWerper called his head man to him, after writing a long letter to\nAchmet Zek.  This letter he handed to the head man.\n\n\"Send a runner at once to Achmet Zek with this,\" he instructed the head\nman.  \"Remain here in camp awaiting further instructions from him or\nfrom me.  If any come from the bungalow of the Englishman, tell them\nthat I am very ill within my tent and can see no one.  Now, give me six\nporters and six askaris--the strongest and bravest of the safari--and I\nwill march after the Englishman and discover where his gold is hidden.\"\n\nAnd so it was that as Tarzan, stripped to the loin cloth and armed\nafter the primitive fashion he best loved, led his loyal Waziri toward\nthe dead city of Opar, Werper, the renegade, haunted his trail through\nthe long, hot days, and camped close behind him by night.\n\nAnd as they marched, Achmet Zek rode with his entire following\nsouthward toward the Greystoke farm.\n\nTo Tarzan of the Apes the expedition was in the nature of a holiday\nouting.  His civilization was at best but an outward veneer which he\ngladly peeled off with his uncomfortable European clothes whenever any\nreasonable pretext presented itself.  It was a woman's love which kept\nTarzan even to the semblance of civilization--a condition for which\nfamiliarity had bred contempt.  He hated the shams and the hypocrisies\nof it and with the clear vision of an unspoiled mind he had penetrated\nto the rotten core of the heart of the thing--the cowardly greed for\npeace and ease and the safe-guarding of property rights.  That the fine\nthings of life--art, music and literature--had thriven upon such\nenervating ideals he strenuously denied, insisting, rather, that they\nhad endured in spite of civilization.\n\n\"Show me the fat, opulent coward,\" he was wont to say, \"who ever\noriginated a beautiful ideal.  In the clash of arms, in the battle for\nsurvival, amid hunger and death and danger, in the face of God as\nmanifested in the display of Nature's most terrific forces, is born all\nthat is finest and best in the human heart and mind.\"\n\nAnd so Tarzan always came back to Nature in the spirit of a lover\nkeeping a long deferred tryst after a period behind prison walls.  His\nWaziri, at marrow, were more civilized than he.  They cooked their meat\nbefore they ate it and they shunned many articles of food as unclean\nthat Tarzan had eaten with gusto all his life and so insidious is the\nvirus of hypocrisy that even the stalwart ape-man hesitated to give\nrein to his natural longings before them.  He ate burnt flesh when he\nwould have preferred it raw and unspoiled, and he brought down game\nwith arrow or spear when he would far rather have leaped upon it from\nambush and sunk his strong teeth in its jugular; but at last the call\nof the milk of the savage mother that had suckled him in infancy rose\nto an insistent demand--he craved the hot blood of a fresh kill and his\nmuscles yearned to pit themselves against the savage jungle in the\nbattle for existence that had been his sole birthright for the first\ntwenty years of his life.\n\n\n\n\n3\n\nThe Call of the Jungle\n\n\nMoved by these vague yet all-powerful urgings the ape-man lay awake one\nnight in the little thorn boma that protected, in a way, his party from\nthe depredations of the great carnivora of the jungle.  A single\nwarrior stood sleepy guard beside the fire that yellow eyes out of the\ndarkness beyond the camp made imperative.  The moans and the coughing\nof the big cats mingled with the myriad noises of the lesser denizens\nof the jungle to fan the savage flame in the breast of this savage\nEnglish lord.  He tossed upon his bed of grasses, sleepless, for an\nhour and then he rose, noiseless as a wraith, and while the Waziri's\nback was turned, vaulted the boma wall in the face of the flaming eyes,\nswung silently into a great tree and was gone.\n\nFor a time in sheer exuberance of animal spirit he raced swiftly\nthrough the middle terrace, swinging perilously across wide spans from\none jungle giant to the next, and then he clambered upward to the\nswaying, lesser boughs of the upper terrace where the moon shone full\nupon him and the air was stirred by little breezes and death lurked\nready in each frail branch.  Here he paused and raised his face to\nGoro, the moon.  With uplifted arm he stood, the cry of the bull ape\nquivering upon his lips, yet he remained silent lest he arouse his\nfaithful Waziri who were all too familiar with the hideous challenge of\ntheir master.\n\nAnd then he went on more slowly and with greater stealth and caution,\nfor now Tarzan of the Apes was seeking a kill.  Down to the ground he\ncame in the utter blackness of the close-set boles and the overhanging\nverdure of the jungle. He stooped from time to time and put his nose\nclose to earth.  He sought and found a wide game trail and at last his\nnostrils were rewarded with the scent of the fresh spoor of Bara, the\ndeer.  Tarzan's mouth watered and a low growl escaped his patrician\nlips.  Sloughed from him was the last vestige of artificial caste--once\nagain he was the primeval hunter--the first man--the highest caste type\nof the human race.  Up wind he followed the elusive spoor with a sense\nof perception so transcending that of ordinary man as to be\ninconceivable to us.  Through counter currents of the heavy stench of\nmeat eaters he traced the trail of Bara; the sweet and cloying stink of\nHorta, the boar, could not drown his quarry's scent--the permeating,\nmellow musk of the deer's foot.\n\nPresently the body scent of the deer told Tarzan that his prey was\nclose at hand.  It sent him into the trees again--into the lower\nterrace where he could watch the ground below and catch with ears and\nnose the first intimation of actual contact with his quarry.  Nor was\nit long before the ape-man came upon Bara standing alert at the edge of\na moon-bathed clearing.  Noiselessly Tarzan crept through the trees\nuntil he was directly over the deer.  In the ape-man's right hand was\nthe long hunting knife of his father and in his heart the blood lust of\nthe carnivore.  Just for an instant he poised above the unsuspecting\nBara and then he launched himself downward upon the sleek back.  The\nimpact of his weight carried the deer to its knees and before the\nanimal could regain its feet the knife had found its heart.  As Tarzan\nrose upon the body of his kill to scream forth his hideous victory cry\ninto the face of the moon the wind carried to his nostrils something\nwhich froze him to statuesque immobility and silence.  His savage eyes\nblazed into the direction from which the wind had borne down the\nwarning to him and a moment later the grasses at one side of the\nclearing parted and Numa, the lion, strode majestically into view.  His\nyellow-green eyes were fastened upon Tarzan as he halted just within\nthe clearing and glared enviously at the successful hunter, for Numa\nhad had no luck this night.\n\nFrom the lips of the ape-man broke a rumbling growl of warning.  Numa\nanswered but he did not advance.  Instead he stood waving his tail\ngently to and fro, and presently Tarzan squatted upon his kill and cut\na generous portion from a hind quarter.  Numa eyed him with growing\nresentment and rage as, between mouthfuls, the ape-man growled out his\nsavage warnings.  Now this particular lion had never before come in\ncontact with Tarzan of the Apes and he was much mystified.  Here was\nthe appearance and the scent of a man-thing and Numa had tasted of\nhuman flesh and learned that though not the most palatable it was\ncertainly by far the easiest to secure, yet there was that in the\nbestial growls of the strange creature which reminded him of formidable\nantagonists and gave him pause, while his hunger and the odor of the\nhot flesh of Bara goaded him almost to madness.  Always Tarzan watched\nhim, guessing what was passing in the little brain of the carnivore and\nwell it was that he did watch him, for at last Numa could stand it no\nlonger.  His tail shot suddenly erect and at the same instant the wary\nape-man, knowing all too well what the signal portended, grasped the\nremainder of the deer's hind quarter between his teeth and leaped into\na nearby tree as Numa charged him with all the speed and a sufficient\nsemblance of the weight of an express train.\n\nTarzan's retreat was no indication that he felt fear.  Jungle life is\nordered along different lines than ours and different standards\nprevail.  Had Tarzan been famished he would, doubtless, have stood his\nground and met the lion's charge.  He had done the thing before upon\nmore than one occasion, just as in the past he had charged lions\nhimself; but tonight he was far from famished and in the hind quarter\nhe had carried off with him was more raw flesh than he could eat; yet\nit was with no equanimity that he looked down upon Numa rending the\nflesh of Tarzan's kill.  The presumption of this strange Numa must be\npunished!  And forthwith Tarzan set out to make life miserable for the\nbig cat.  Close by were many trees bearing large, hard fruits and to\none of these the ape-man swung with the agility of a squirrel.  Then\ncommenced a bombardment which brought forth earthshaking roars from\nNuma.  One after another as rapidly as he could gather and hurl them,\nTarzan pelted the hard fruit down upon the lion.  It was impossible for\nthe tawny cat to eat under that hail of missiles--he could but roar and\ngrowl and dodge and eventually he was driven away entirely from the\ncarcass of Bara, the deer.  He went roaring and resentful; but in the\nvery center of the clearing his voice was suddenly hushed and Tarzan\nsaw the great head lower and flatten out, the body crouch and the long\ntail quiver, as the beast slunk cautiously toward the trees upon the\nopposite side.\n\nImmediately Tarzan was alert.  He lifted his head and sniffed the slow,\njungle breeze.  What was it that had attracted Numa's attention and\ntaken him soft-footed and silent away from the scene of his\ndiscomfiture?  Just as the lion disappeared among the trees beyond the\nclearing Tarzan caught upon the down-coming wind the explanation of his\nnew interest--the scent spoor of man was wafted strongly to the\nsensitive nostrils.  Caching the remainder of the deer's hind quarter\nin the crotch of a tree the ape-man wiped his greasy palms upon his\nnaked thighs and swung off in pursuit of Numa.  A broad, well-beaten\nelephant path led into the forest from the clearing.  Parallel to this\nslunk Numa, while above him Tarzan moved through the trees, the shadow\nof a wraith.  The savage cat and the savage man saw Numa's quarry\nalmost simultaneously, though both had known before it came within the\nvision of their eyes that it was a black man.  Their sensitive nostrils\nhad told them this much and Tarzan's had told him that the scent spoor\nwas that of a stranger--old and a male, for race and sex and age each\nhas its own distinctive scent.  It was an old man that made his way\nalone through the gloomy jungle, a wrinkled, dried up, little old man\nhideously scarred and tattooed and strangely garbed, with the skin of a\nhyena about his shoulders and the dried head mounted upon his grey\npate.  Tarzan recognized the ear-marks of the witch-doctor and awaited\nNuma's charge with a feeling of pleasurable anticipation, for the\nape-man had no love for witch-doctors; but in the instant that Numa did\ncharge, the white man suddenly recalled that the lion had stolen his\nkill a few minutes before and that revenge is sweet.\n\nThe first intimation the black man had that he was in danger was the\ncrash of twigs as Numa charged through the bushes into the game trail\nnot twenty yards behind him.  Then he turned to see a huge, black-maned\nlion racing toward him and even as he turned, Numa seized him.  At the\nsame instant the ape-man dropped from an overhanging limb full upon the\nlion's back and as he alighted he plunged his knife into the tawny side\nbehind the left shoulder, tangled the fingers of his right hand in the\nlong mane, buried his teeth in Numa's neck and wound his powerful legs\nabout the beast's torso.  With a roar of pain and rage, Numa reared up\nand fell backward upon the ape-man; but still the mighty man-thing\nclung to his hold and repeatedly the long knife plunged rapidly into\nhis side.  Over and over rolled Numa, the lion, clawing and biting at\nthe air, roaring and growling horribly in savage attempt to reach the\nthing upon its back.  More than once was Tarzan almost brushed from his\nhold.  He was battered and bruised and covered with blood from Numa and\ndirt from the trail, yet not for an instant did he lessen the ferocity\nof his mad attack nor his grim hold upon the back of his antagonist.\nTo have loosened for an instant his grip there, would have been to\nbring him within reach of those tearing talons or rending fangs, and\nhave ended forever the grim career of this jungle-bred English lord.\nWhere he had fallen beneath the spring of the lion the witch-doctor\nlay, torn and bleeding, unable to drag himself away and watched the\nterrific battle between these two lords of the jungle.  His sunken eyes\nglittered and his wrinkled lips moved over toothless gums as he mumbled\nweird incantations to the demons of his cult.\n\nFor a time he felt no doubt as to the outcome--the strange white man\nmust certainly succumb to terrible Simba--whoever heard of a lone man\narmed only with a knife slaying so mighty a beast!  Yet presently the\nold black man's eyes went wider and he commenced to have his doubts and\nmisgivings.  What wonderful sort of creature was this that battled with\nSimba and held his own despite the mighty muscles of the king of beasts\nand slowly there dawned in those sunken eyes, gleaming so brightly from\nthe scarred and wrinkled face, the light of a dawning recollection.\nGropingly backward into the past reached the fingers of memory, until\nat last they seized upon a faint picture, faded and yellow with the\npassing years.  It was the picture of a lithe, white-skinned youth\nswinging through the trees in company with a band of huge apes, and the\nold eyes blinked and a great fear came into them--the superstitious\nfear of one who believes in ghosts and spirits and demons.\n\nAnd came the time once more when the witch-doctor no longer doubted the\noutcome of the duel, yet his first judgment was reversed, for now he\nknew that the jungle god would slay Simba and the old black was even\nmore terrified of his own impending fate at the hands of the victor\nthan he had been by the sure and sudden death which the triumphant lion\nwould have meted out to him.  He saw the lion weaken from loss of\nblood.  He saw the mighty limbs tremble and stagger and at last he saw\nthe beast sink down to rise no more.  He saw the forest god or demon\nrise from the vanquished foe, and placing a foot upon the still\nquivering carcass, raise his face to the moon and bay out a hideous cry\nthat froze the ebbing blood in the veins of the witch-doctor.\n\n\n\n\n4\n\nProphecy and Fulfillment\n\n\nThen Tarzan turned his attention to the man.  He had not slain Numa to\nsave the Negro--he had merely done it in revenge upon the lion; but now\nthat he saw the old man lying helpless and dying before him something\nakin to pity touched his savage heart.  In his youth he would have\nslain the witch-doctor without the slightest compunction; but\ncivilization had had its softening effect upon him even as it does upon\nthe nations and races which it touches, though it had not yet gone far\nenough with Tarzan to render him either cowardly or effeminate.  He saw\nan old man suffering and dying, and he stooped and felt of his wounds\nand stanched the flow of blood.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the old man in a trembling voice.\n\n\"I am Tarzan--Tarzan of the Apes,\" replied the ape-man and not without\na greater touch of pride than he would have said, \"I am John Clayton,\nLord Greystoke.\"\n\nThe witch-doctor shook convulsively and closed his eyes.  When he\nopened them again there was in them a resignation to whatever horrible\nfate awaited him at the hands of this feared demon of the woods.  \"Why\ndo you not kill me?\" he asked.\n\n\"Why should I kill you?\" inquired Tarzan.  \"You have not harmed me, and\nanyway you are already dying.  Numa, the lion, has killed you.\"\n\n\"You would not kill me?\" Surprise and incredulity were in the tones of\nthe quavering old voice.\n\n\"I would save you if I could,\" replied Tarzan, \"but that cannot be\ndone.  Why did you think I would kill you?\"\n\nFor a moment the old man was silent.  When he spoke it was evidently\nafter some little effort to muster his courage.  \"I knew you of old,\"\nhe said, \"when you ranged the jungle in the country of Mbonga, the\nchief.  I was already a witch-doctor when you slew Kulonga and the\nothers, and when you robbed our huts and our poison pot.  At first I\ndid not remember you; but at last I did--the white-skinned ape that\nlived with the hairy apes and made life miserable in the village of\nMbonga, the chief--the forest god--the Munango-Keewati for whom we set\nfood outside our gates and who came and ate it.  Tell me before I\ndie--are you man or devil?\"\n\nTarzan laughed.  \"I am a man,\" he said.\n\nThe old fellow sighed and shook his head.  \"You have tried to save me\nfrom Simba,\" he said.  \"For that I shall reward you.  I am a great\nwitch-doctor.  Listen to me, white man!  I see bad days ahead of you.\nIt is writ in my own blood which I have smeared upon my palm.  A god\ngreater even than you will rise up and strike you down.  Turn back,\nMunango-Keewati!  Turn back before it is too late.  Danger lies ahead\nof you and danger lurks behind; but greater is the danger before.  I\nsee--\" He paused and drew a long, gasping breath.  Then he crumpled\ninto a little, wrinkled heap and died.  Tarzan wondered what else he\nhad seen.\n\nIt was very late when the ape-man re-entered the boma and lay down\namong his black warriors.  None had seen him go and none saw him\nreturn.  He thought about the warning of the old witch-doctor before he\nfell asleep and he thought of it again after he awoke; but he did not\nturn back for he was unafraid, though had he known what lay in store\nfor one he loved most in all the world he would have flown through the\ntrees to her side and allowed the gold of Opar to remain forever hidden\nin its forgotten storehouse.\n\nBehind him that morning another white man pondered something he had\nheard during the night and very nearly did he give up his project and\nturn back upon his trail.  It was Werper, the murderer, who in the\nstill of the night had heard far away upon the trail ahead of him a\nsound that had filled his cowardly soul with terror--a sound such as he\nnever before had heard in all his life, nor dreamed that such a\nfrightful thing could emanate from the lungs of a God-created creature.\nHe had heard the victory cry of the bull ape as Tarzan had screamed it\nforth into the face of Goro, the moon, and he had trembled then and\nhidden his face; and now in the broad light of a new day he trembled\nagain as he recalled it, and would have turned back from the nameless\ndanger the echo of that frightful sound seemed to portend, had he not\nstood in even greater fear of Achmet Zek, his master.\n\nAnd so Tarzan of the Apes forged steadily ahead toward Opar's ruined\nramparts and behind him slunk Werper, jackal-like, and only God knew\nwhat lay in store for each.\n\nAt the edge of the desolate valley, overlooking the golden domes and\nminarets of Opar, Tarzan halted.  By night he would go alone to the\ntreasure vault, reconnoitering, for he had determined that caution\nshould mark his every move upon this expedition.\n\nWith the coming of night he set forth, and Werper, who had scaled the\ncliffs alone behind the ape-man's party, and hidden through the day\namong the rough boulders of the mountain top, slunk stealthily after\nhim.  The boulder-strewn plain between the valley's edge and the mighty\ngranite kopje, outside the city's walls, where lay the entrance to the\npassage-way leading to the treasure vault, gave the Belgian ample cover\nas he followed Tarzan toward Opar.\n\nHe saw the giant ape-man swing himself nimbly up the face of the great\nrock.  Werper, clawing fearfully during the perilous ascent, sweating\nin terror, almost palsied by fear, but spurred on by avarice, following\nupward, until at last he stood upon the summit of the rocky hill.\n\nTarzan was nowhere in sight.  For a time Werper hid behind one of the\nlesser boulders that were scattered over the top of the hill, but,\nseeing or hearing nothing of the Englishman, he crept from his place of\nconcealment to undertake a systematic search of his surroundings, in\nthe hope that he might discover the location of the treasure in ample\ntime to make his escape before Tarzan returned, for it was the\nBelgian's desire merely to locate the gold, that, after Tarzan had\ndeparted, he might come in safety with his followers and carry away as\nmuch as he could transport.\n\nHe found the narrow cleft leading downward into the heart of the kopje\nalong well-worn, granite steps.  He advanced quite to the dark mouth of\nthe tunnel into which the runway disappeared; but here he halted,\nfearing to enter, lest he meet Tarzan returning.\n\nThe ape-man, far ahead of him, groped his way along the rocky passage,\nuntil he came to the ancient wooden door.  A moment later he stood\nwithin the treasure chamber, where, ages since, long-dead hands had\nranged the lofty rows of precious ingots for the rulers of that great\ncontinent which now lies submerged beneath the waters of the Atlantic.\n\nNo sound broke the stillness of the subterranean vault.  There was no\nevidence that another had discovered the forgotten wealth since last\nthe ape-man had visited its hiding place.\n\nSatisfied, Tarzan turned and retraced his steps toward the summit of\nthe kopje.  Werper, from the concealment of a jutting, granite\nshoulder, watched him pass up from the shadows of the stairway and\nadvance toward the edge of the hill which faced the rim of the valley\nwhere the Waziri awaited the signal of their master.  Then Werper,\nslipping stealthily from his hiding place, dropped into the somber\ndarkness of the entrance and disappeared.\n\nTarzan, halting upon the kopje's edge, raised his voice in the\nthunderous roar of a lion.  Twice, at regular intervals, he repeated\nthe call, standing in attentive silence for several minutes after the\nechoes of the third call had died away.  And then, from far across the\nvalley, faintly, came an answering roar--once, twice, thrice.  Basuli,\nthe Waziri chieftain, had heard and replied.\n\nTarzan again made his way toward the treasure vault, knowing that in a\nfew hours his blacks would be with him, ready to bear away another\nfortune in the strangely shaped, golden ingots of Opar.  In the\nmeantime he would carry as much of the precious metal to the summit of\nthe kopje as he could.\n\nSix trips he made in the five hours before Basuli reached the kopje,\nand at the end of that time he had transported forty-eight ingots to\nthe edge of the great boulder, carrying upon each trip a load which\nmight well have staggered two ordinary men, yet his giant frame showed\nno evidence of fatigue, as he helped to raise his ebon warriors to the\nhill top with the rope that had been brought for the purpose.\n\nSix times he had returned to the treasure chamber, and six times\nWerper, the Belgian, had cowered in the black shadows at the far end of\nthe long vault.  Once again came the ape-man, and this time there came\nwith him fifty fighting men, turning porters for love of the only\ncreature in the world who might command of their fierce and haughty\nnatures such menial service.  Fifty-two more ingots passed out of the\nvaults, making the total of one hundred which Tarzan intended taking\naway with him.\n\nAs the last of the Waziri filed from the chamber, Tarzan turned back\nfor a last glimpse of the fabulous wealth upon which his two inroads\nhad made no appreciable impression.  Before he extinguished the single\ncandle he had brought with him for the purpose, and the flickering\nlight of which had cast the first alleviating rays into the\nimpenetrable darkness of the buried chamber, that it had known for the\ncountless ages since it had lain forgotten of man, Tarzan's mind\nreverted to that first occasion upon which he had entered the treasure\nvault, coming upon it by chance as he fled from the pits beneath the\ntemple, where he had been hidden by La, the High Priestess of the Sun\nWorshipers.\n\nHe recalled the scene within the temple when he had lain stretched upon\nthe sacrificial altar, while La, with high-raised dagger, stood above\nhim, and the rows of priests and priestesses awaited, in the ecstatic\nhysteria of fanaticism, the first gush of their victim's warm blood,\nthat they might fill their golden goblets and drink to the glory of\ntheir Flaming God.\n\nThe brutal and bloody interruption by Tha, the mad priest, passed\nvividly before the ape-man's recollective eyes, the flight of the\nvotaries before the insane blood lust of the hideous creature, the\nbrutal attack upon La, and his own part of the grim tragedy when he had\nbattled with the infuriated Oparian and left him dead at the feet of\nthe priestess he would have profaned.\n\nThis and much more passed through Tarzan's memory as he stood gazing at\nthe long tiers of dull-yellow metal.  He wondered if La still ruled the\ntemples of the ruined city whose crumbling walls rose upon the very\nfoundations about him.  Had she finally been forced into a union with\none of her grotesque priests?  It seemed a hideous fate, indeed, for\none so beautiful.  With a shake of his head, Tarzan stepped to the\nflickering candle, extinguished its feeble rays and turned toward the\nexit.\n\nBehind him the spy waited for him to be gone.  He had learned the\nsecret for which he had come, and now he could return at his leisure to\nhis waiting followers, bring them to the treasure vault and carry away\nall the gold that they could stagger under.\n\nThe Waziri had reached the outer end of the tunnel, and were winding\nupward toward the fresh air and the welcome starlight of the kopje's\nsummit, before Tarzan shook off the detaining hand of reverie and\nstarted slowly after them.\n\nOnce again, and, he thought, for the last time, he closed the massive\ndoor of the treasure room.  In the darkness behind him Werper rose and\nstretched his cramped muscles.  He stretched forth a hand and lovingly\ncaressed a golden ingot on the nearest tier.  He raised it from its\nimmemorial resting place and weighed it in his hands.  He clutched it\nto his bosom in an ecstasy of avarice.\n\nTarzan dreamed of the happy homecoming which lay before him, of dear\narms about his neck, and a soft cheek pressed to his; but there rose to\ndispel that dream the memory of the old witch-doctor and his warning.\n\nAnd then, in the span of a few brief seconds, the hopes of both these\nmen were shattered.  The one forgot even his greed in the panic of\nterror--the other was plunged into total forgetfulness of the past by a\njagged fragment of rock which gashed a deep cut upon his head.\n\n\n\n\n5\n\nThe Altar of the Flaming God\n\n\nIt was at the moment that Tarzan turned from the closed door to pursue\nhis way to the outer world.  The thing came without warning.  One\ninstant all was quiet and stability--the next, and the world rocked,\nthe tortured sides of the narrow passageway split and crumbled, great\nblocks of granite, dislodged from the ceiling, tumbled into the narrow\nway, choking it, and the walls bent inward upon the wreckage.  Beneath\nthe blow of a fragment of the roof, Tarzan staggered back against the\ndoor to the treasure room, his weight pushed it open and his body\nrolled inward upon the floor.\n\nIn the great apartment where the treasure lay less damage was wrought\nby the earthquake.  A few ingots toppled from the higher tiers, a\nsingle piece of the rocky ceiling splintered off and crashed downward\nto the floor, and the walls cracked, though they did not collapse.\n\nThere was but the single shock, no other followed to complete the\ndamage undertaken by the first.  Werper, thrown to his length by the\nsuddenness and violence of the disturbance, staggered to his feet when\nhe found himself unhurt.  Groping his way toward the far end of the\nchamber, he sought the candle which Tarzan had left stuck in its own\nwax upon the protruding end of an ingot.\n\nBy striking numerous matches the Belgian at last found what he sought,\nand when, a moment later, the sickly rays relieved the Stygian darkness\nabout him, he breathed a nervous sigh of relief, for the impenetrable\ngloom had accentuated the terrors of his situation.\n\nAs they became accustomed to the light the man turned his eyes toward\nthe door--his one thought now was of escape from this frightful\ntomb--and as he did so he saw the body of the naked giant lying\nstretched upon the floor just within the doorway.  Werper drew back in\nsudden fear of detection; but a second glance convinced him that the\nEnglishman was dead.  From a great gash in the man's head a pool of\nblood had collected upon the concrete floor.\n\nQuickly, the Belgian leaped over the prostrate form of his erstwhile\nhost, and without a thought of succor for the man in whom, for aught he\nknew, life still remained, he bolted for the passageway and safety.\n\nBut his renewed hopes were soon dashed.  Just beyond the doorway he\nfound the passage completely clogged and choked by impenetrable masses\nof shattered rock.  Once more he turned and re-entered the treasure\nvault.  Taking the candle from its place he commenced a systematic\nsearch of the apartment, nor had he gone far before he discovered\nanother door in the opposite end of the room, a door which gave upon\ncreaking hinges to the weight of his body.  Beyond the door lay another\nnarrow passageway.  Along this Werper made his way, ascending a flight\nof stone steps to another corridor twenty feet above the level of the\nfirst.  The flickering candle lighted the way before him, and a moment\nlater he was thankful for the possession of this crude and antiquated\nluminant, which, a few hours before he might have looked upon with\ncontempt, for it showed him, just in time, a yawning pit, apparently\nterminating the tunnel he was traversing.\n\nBefore him was a circular shaft.  He held the candle above it and\npeered downward.  Below him, at a great distance, he saw the light\nreflected back from the surface of a pool of water.  He had come upon a\nwell.  He raised the candle above his head and peered across the black\nvoid, and there upon the opposite side he saw the continuation of the\ntunnel; but how was he to span the gulf?\n\nAs he stood there measuring the distance to the opposite side and\nwondering if he dared venture so great a leap, there broke suddenly\nupon his startled ears a piercing scream which diminished gradually\nuntil it ended in a series of dismal moans.  The voice seemed partly\nhuman, yet so hideous that it might well have emanated from the\ntortured throat of a lost soul, writhing in the fires of hell.\n\nThe Belgian shuddered and looked fearfully upward, for the scream had\nseemed to come from above him.  As he looked he saw an opening far\noverhead, and a patch of sky pinked with brilliant stars.\n\nHis half-formed intention to call for help was expunged by the\nterrifying cry--where such a voice lived, no human creatures could\ndwell.  He dared not reveal himself to whatever inhabitants dwelt in\nthe place above him.  He cursed himself for a fool that he had ever\nembarked upon such a mission.  He wished himself safely back in the\ncamp of Achmet Zek, and would almost have embraced an opportunity to\ngive himself up to the military authorities of the Congo if by so doing\nhe might be rescued from the frightful predicament in which he now was.\n\nHe listened fearfully, but the cry was not repeated, and at last\nspurred to desperate means, he gathered himself for the leap across the\nchasm.  Going back twenty paces, he took a running start, and at the\nedge of the well, leaped upward and outward in an attempt to gain the\nopposite side.\n\nIn his hand he clutched the sputtering candle, and as he took the leap\nthe rush of air extinguished it.  In utter darkness he flew through\nspace, clutching outward for a hold should his feet miss the invisible\nledge.\n\nHe struck the edge of the door of the opposite terminus of the rocky\ntunnel with his knees, slipped backward, clutched desperately for a\nmoment, and at last hung half within and half without the opening; but\nhe was safe.  For several minutes he dared not move; but clung, weak\nand sweating, where he lay.  At last, cautiously, he drew himself well\nwithin the tunnel, and again he lay at full length upon the floor,\nfighting to regain control of his shattered nerves.\n\nWhen his knees struck the edge of the tunnel he had dropped the candle.\nPresently, hoping against hope that it had fallen upon the floor of the\npassageway, rather than back into the depths of the well, he rose upon\nall fours and commenced a diligent search for the little tallow\ncylinder, which now seemed infinitely more precious to him than all the\nfabulous wealth of the hoarded ingots of Opar.\n\nAnd when, at last, he found it, he clasped it to him and sank back\nsobbing and exhausted.  For many minutes he lay trembling and broken;\nbut finally he drew himself to a sitting posture, and taking a match\nfrom his pocket, lighted the stump of the candle which remained to him.\nWith the light he found it easier to regain control of his nerves, and\npresently he was again making his way along the tunnel in search of an\navenue of escape.  The horrid cry that had come down to him from above\nthrough the ancient well-shaft still haunted him, so that he trembled\nin terror at even the sounds of his own cautious advance.\n\nHe had gone forward but a short distance, when, to his chagrin, a wall\nof masonry barred his farther progress, closing the tunnel completely\nfrom top to bottom and from side to side.  What could it mean?  Werper\nwas an educated and intelligent man.  His military training had taught\nhim to use his mind for the purpose for which it was intended.  A blind\ntunnel such as this was senseless.  It must continue beyond the wall.\nSomeone, at some time in the past, had had it blocked for an unknown\npurpose of his own.  The man fell to examining the masonry by the light\nof his candle.  To his delight he discovered that the thin blocks of\nhewn stone of which it was constructed were fitted in loosely without\nmortar or cement.  He tugged upon one of them, and to his joy found\nthat it was easily removable.  One after another he pulled out the\nblocks until he had opened an aperture large enough to admit his body,\nthen he crawled through into a large, low chamber.  Across this another\ndoor barred his way; but this, too, gave before his efforts, for it was\nnot barred.  A long, dark corridor showed before him, but before he had\nfollowed it far, his candle burned down until it scorched his fingers.\nWith an oath he dropped it to the floor, where it sputtered for a\nmoment and went out.\n\nNow he was in total darkness, and again terror rode heavily astride his\nneck.  What further pitfalls and dangers lay ahead he could not guess;\nbut that he was as far as ever from liberty he was quite willing to\nbelieve, so depressing is utter absence of light to one in unfamiliar\nsurroundings.\n\nSlowly he groped his way along, feeling with his hands upon the\ntunnel's walls, and cautiously with his feet ahead of him upon the\nfloor before he could take a single forward step.  How long he crept on\nthus he could not guess; but at last, feeling that the tunnel's length\nwas interminable, and exhausted by his efforts, by terror, and loss of\nsleep, he determined to lie down and rest before proceeding farther.\n\nWhen he awoke there was no change in the surrounding blackness.  He\nmight have slept a second or a day--he could not know; but that he had\nslept for some time was attested by the fact that he felt refreshed and\nhungry.\n\nAgain he commenced his groping advance; but this time he had gone but a\nshort distance when he emerged into a room, which was lighted through\nan opening in the ceiling, from which a flight of concrete steps led\ndownward to the floor of the chamber.\n\nAbove him, through the aperture, Werper could see sunlight glancing\nfrom massive columns, which were twined about by clinging vines.  He\nlistened; but he heard no sound other than the soughing of the wind\nthrough leafy branches, the hoarse cries of birds, and the chattering\nof monkeys.\n\nBoldly he ascended the stairway, to find himself in a circular court.\nJust before him stood a stone altar, stained with rusty-brown\ndiscolorations.  At the time Werper gave no thought to an explanation\nof these stains--later their origin became all too hideously apparent\nto him.\n\nBeside the opening in the floor, just behind the altar, through which\nhe had entered the court from the subterranean chamber below, the\nBelgian discovered several doors leading from the enclosure upon the\nlevel of the floor.  Above, and circling the courtyard, was a series of\nopen balconies.  Monkeys scampered about the deserted ruins, and gaily\nplumaged birds flitted in and out among the columns and the galleries\nfar above; but no sign of human presence was discernible.  Werper felt\nrelieved.  He sighed, as though a great weight had been lifted from his\nshoulders.  He took a step toward one of the exits, and then he halted,\nwide-eyed in astonishment and terror, for almost at the same instant a\ndozen doors opened in the courtyard wall and a horde of frightful men\nrushed in upon him.\n\nThey were the priests of the Flaming God of Opar--the same, shaggy,\nknotted, hideous little men who had dragged Jane Clayton to the\nsacrificial altar at this very spot years before.  Their long arms,\ntheir short and crooked legs, their close-set, evil eyes, and their\nlow, receding foreheads gave them a bestial appearance that sent a\nqualm of paralyzing fright through the shaken nerves of the Belgian.\n\nWith a scream he turned to flee back into the lesser terrors of the\ngloomy corridors and apartments from which he had just emerged, but the\nfrightful men anticipated his intentions.  They blocked the way; they\nseized him, and though he fell, groveling upon his knees before them,\nbegging for his life, they bound him and hurled him to the floor of the\ninner temple.\n\nThe rest was but a repetition of what Tarzan and Jane Clayton had\npassed through.  The priestesses came, and with them La, the High\nPriestess.  Werper was raised and laid across the altar.  Cold sweat\nexuded from his every pore as La raised the cruel, sacrificial knife\nabove him.  The death chant fell upon his tortured ears.  His staring\neyes wandered to the golden goblets from which the hideous votaries\nwould soon quench their inhuman thirst in his own, warm life-blood.\n\nHe wished that he might be granted the brief respite of unconsciousness\nbefore the final plunge of the keen blade--and then there was a\nfrightful roar that sounded almost in his ears.  The High Priestess\nlowered her dagger.  Her eyes went wide in horror.  The priestesses,\nher votaresses, screamed and fled madly toward the exits.  The priests\nroared out their rage and terror according to the temper of their\ncourage.  Werper strained his neck about to catch a sight of the cause\nof their panic, and when, at last he saw it, he too went cold in dread,\nfor what his eyes beheld was the figure of a huge lion standing in the\ncenter of the temple, and already a single victim lay mangled beneath\nhis cruel paws.\n\nAgain the lord of the wilderness roared, turning his baleful gaze upon\nthe altar.  La staggered forward, reeled, and fell across Werper in a\nswoon.\n\n\n\n\n6\n\nThe Arab Raid\n\n\nAfter their first terror had subsided subsequent to the shock of the\nearthquake, Basuli and his warriors hastened back into the passageway\nin search of Tarzan and two of their own number who were also missing.\n\nThey found the way blocked by jammed and distorted rock.  For two days\nthey labored to tear a way through to their imprisoned friends; but\nwhen, after Herculean efforts, they had unearthed but a few yards of\nthe choked passage, and discovered the mangled remains of one of their\nfellows they were forced to the conclusion that Tarzan and the second\nWaziri also lay dead beneath the rock mass farther in, beyond human\naid, and no longer susceptible of it.\n\nAgain and again as they labored they called aloud the names of their\nmaster and their comrade; but no answering call rewarded their\nlistening ears.  At last they gave up the search.  Tearfully they cast\na last look at the shattered tomb of their master, shouldered the heavy\nburden of gold that would at least furnish comfort, if not happiness,\nto their bereaved and beloved mistress, and made their mournful way\nback across the desolate valley of Opar, and downward through the\nforests beyond toward the distant bungalow.\n\nAnd as they marched what sorry fate was already drawing down upon that\npeaceful, happy home!\n\nFrom the north came Achmet Zek, riding to the summons of his\nlieutenant's letter.  With him came his horde of renegade Arabs,\noutlawed marauders, these, and equally degraded blacks, garnered from\nthe more debased and ignorant tribes of savage cannibals through whose\ncountries the raider passed to and fro with perfect impunity.\n\nMugambi, the ebon Hercules, who had shared the dangers and vicissitudes\nof his beloved Bwana, from Jungle Island, almost to the headwaters of\nthe Ugambi, was the first to note the bold approach of the sinister\ncaravan.\n\nHe it was whom Tarzan had left in charge of the warriors who remained\nto guard Lady Greystoke, nor could a braver or more loyal guardian have\nbeen found in any clime or upon any soil.  A giant in stature, a\nsavage, fearless warrior, the huge black possessed also soul and\njudgment in proportion to his bulk and his ferocity.\n\nNot once since his master had departed had he been beyond sight or\nsound of the bungalow, except when Lady Greystoke chose to canter\nacross the broad plain, or relieve the monotony of her loneliness by a\nbrief hunting excursion.  On such occasions Mugambi, mounted upon a\nwiry Arab, had ridden close at her horse's heels.\n\nThe raiders were still a long way off when the warrior's keen eyes\ndiscovered them.  For a time he stood scrutinizing the advancing party\nin silence, then he turned and ran rapidly in the direction of the\nnative huts which lay a few hundred yards below the bungalow.\n\nHere he called out to the lolling warriors.  He issued orders rapidly.\nIn compliance with them the men seized upon their weapons and their\nshields.  Some ran to call in the workers from the fields and to warn\nthe tenders of the flocks and herds.  The majority followed Mugambi\nback toward the bungalow.\n\nThe dust of the raiders was still a long distance away.  Mugambi could\nnot know positively that it hid an enemy; but he had spent a lifetime\nof savage life in savage Africa, and he had seen parties before come\nthus unheralded.  Sometimes they had come in peace and sometimes they\nhad come in war--one could never tell.  It was well to be prepared.\nMugambi did not like the haste with which the strangers advanced.\n\nThe Greystoke bungalow was not well adapted for defense.  No palisade\nsurrounded it, for, situated as it was, in the heart of loyal Waziri,\nits master had anticipated no possibility of an attack in force by any\nenemy.  Heavy, wooden shutters there were to close the window apertures\nagainst hostile arrows, and these Mugambi was engaged in lowering when\nLady Greystoke appeared upon the veranda.\n\n\"Why, Mugambi!\" she exclaimed.  \"What has happened?  Why are you\nlowering the shutters?\"\n\nMugambi pointed out across the plain to where a white-robed force of\nmounted men was now distinctly visible.\n\n\"Arabs,\" he explained.  \"They come for no good purpose in the absence\nof the Great Bwana.\"\n\nBeyond the neat lawn and the flowering shrubs, Jane Clayton saw the\nglistening bodies of her Waziri.  The sun glanced from the tips of\ntheir metal-shod spears, picked out the gorgeous colors in the feathers\nof their war bonnets, and reflected the high-lights from the glossy\nskins of their broad shoulders and high cheek bones.\n\nJane Clayton surveyed them with unmixed feelings of pride and\naffection.  What harm could befall her with such as these to protect\nher?\n\nThe raiders had halted now, a hundred yards out upon the plain.\nMugambi had hastened down to join his warriors.  He advanced a few\nyards before them and raising his voice hailed the strangers.  Achmet\nZek sat straight in his saddle before his henchmen.\n\n\"Arab!\" cried Mugambi.  \"What do you here?\"\n\n\"We come in peace,\" Achmet Zek called back.\n\n\"Then turn and go in peace,\" replied Mugambi.  \"We do not want you\nhere.  There can be no peace between Arab and Waziri.\"\n\nMugambi, although not born in Waziri, had been adopted into the tribe,\nwhich now contained no member more jealous of its traditions and its\nprowess than he.\n\nAchmet Zek drew to one side of his horde, speaking to his men in a low\nvoice.  A moment later, without warning, a ragged volley was poured\ninto the ranks of the Waziri.  A couple of warriors fell, the others\nwere for charging the attackers; but Mugambi was a cautious as well as\na brave leader.  He knew the futility of charging mounted men armed\nwith muskets.  He withdrew his force behind the shrubbery of the\ngarden.  Some he dispatched to various other parts of the grounds\nsurrounding the bungalow.  Half a dozen he sent to the bungalow itself\nwith instructions to keep their mistress within doors, and to protect\nher with their lives.\n\nAdopting the tactics of the desert fighters from which he had sprung,\nAchmet Zek led his followers at a gallop in a long, thin line,\ndescribing a great circle which drew closer and closer in toward the\ndefenders.\n\nAt that part of the circle closest to the Waziri, a constant fusillade\nof shots was poured into the bushes behind which the black warriors had\nconcealed themselves.  The latter, on their part, loosed their slim\nshafts at the nearest of the enemy.\n\nThe Waziri, justly famed for their archery, found no cause to blush for\ntheir performance that day.  Time and again some swarthy horseman threw\nhands above his head and toppled from his saddle, pierced by a deadly\narrow; but the contest was uneven.  The Arabs outnumbered the Waziri;\ntheir bullets penetrated the shrubbery and found marks that the Arab\nriflemen had not even seen; and then Achmet Zek circled inward a half\nmile above the bungalow, tore down a section of the fence, and led his\nmarauders within the grounds.\n\nAcross the fields they charged at a mad run.  Not again did they pause\nto lower fences, instead, they drove their wild mounts straight for\nthem, clearing the obstacles as lightly as winged gulls.\n\nMugambi saw them coming, and, calling those of his warriors who\nremained, ran for the bungalow and the last stand.  Upon the veranda\nLady Greystoke stood, rifle in hand.  More than a single raider had\naccounted to her steady nerves and cool aim for his outlawry; more than\na single pony raced, riderless, in the wake of the charging horde.\n\nMugambi pushed his mistress back into the greater security of the\ninterior, and with his depleted force prepared to make a last stand\nagainst the foe.\n\nOn came the Arabs, shouting and waving their long guns above their\nheads.  Past the veranda they raced, pouring a deadly fire into the\nkneeling Waziri who discharged their volley of arrows from behind their\nlong, oval shields--shields well adapted, perhaps, to stop a hostile\narrow, or deflect a spear; but futile, quite, before the leaden\nmissiles of the riflemen.\n\nFrom beneath the half-raised shutters of the bungalow other bowmen did\neffective service in greater security, and after the first assault,\nMugambi withdrew his entire force within the building.\n\nAgain and again the Arabs charged, at last forming a stationary circle\nabout the little fortress, and outside the effective range of the\ndefenders' arrows.  From their new position they fired at will at the\nwindows.  One by one the Waziri fell.  Fewer and fewer were the arrows\nthat replied to the guns of the raiders, and at last Achmet Zek felt\nsafe in ordering an assault.\n\nFiring as they ran, the bloodthirsty horde raced for the veranda.  A\ndozen of them fell to the arrows of the defenders; but the majority\nreached the door.  Heavy gun butts fell upon it.  The crash of\nsplintered wood mingled with the report of a rifle as Jane Clayton\nfired through the panels upon the relentless foe.\n\nUpon both sides of the door men fell; but at last the frail barrier\ngave to the vicious assaults of the maddened attackers; it crumpled\ninward and a dozen swarthy murderers leaped into the living-room.  At\nthe far end stood Jane Clayton surrounded by the remnant of her devoted\nguardians.  The floor was covered by the bodies of those who already\nhad given up their lives in her defense.  In the forefront of her\nprotectors stood the giant Mugambi.  The Arabs raised their rifles to\npour in the last volley that would effectually end all resistance; but\nAchmet Zek roared out a warning order that stayed their trigger fingers.\n\n\"Fire not upon the woman!\" he cried.  \"Who harms her, dies.  Take the\nwoman alive!\"\n\nThe Arabs rushed across the room; the Waziri met them with their heavy\nspears.  Swords flashed, long-barreled pistols roared out their sullen\ndeath dooms.  Mugambi launched his spear at the nearest of the enemy\nwith a force that drove the heavy shaft completely through the Arab's\nbody, then he seized a pistol from another, and grasping it by the\nbarrel brained all who forced their way too near his mistress.\n\nEmulating his example the few warriors who remained to him fought like\ndemons; but one by one they fell, until only Mugambi remained to defend\nthe life and honor of the ape-man's mate.\n\nFrom across the room Achmet Zek watched the unequal struggle and urged\non his minions.  In his hands was a jeweled musket.  Slowly he raised\nit to his shoulder, waiting until another move should place Mugambi at\nhis mercy without endangering the lives of the woman or any of his own\nfollowers.\n\nAt last the moment came, and Achmet Zek pulled the trigger.  Without a\nsound the brave Mugambi sank to the floor at the feet of Jane Clayton.\n\nAn instant later she was surrounded and disarmed.  Without a word they\ndragged her from the bungalow.  A giant Negro lifted her to the pommel\nof his saddle, and while the raiders searched the bungalow and\nouthouses for plunder he rode with her beyond the gates and waited the\ncoming of his master.\n\nJane Clayton saw the raiders lead the horses from the corral, and drive\nthe herds in from the fields.  She saw her home plundered of all that\nrepresented intrinsic worth in the eyes of the Arabs, and then she saw\nthe torch applied, and the flames lick up what remained.\n\nAnd at last, when the raiders assembled after glutting their fury and\ntheir avarice, and rode away with her toward the north, she saw the\nsmoke and the flames rising far into the heavens until the winding of\nthe trail into the thick forests hid the sad view from her eyes.\n\nAs the flames ate their way into the living-room, reaching out forked\ntongues to lick up the bodies of the dead, one of that gruesome company\nwhose bloody welterings had long since been stilled, moved again.  It\nwas a huge black who rolled over upon his side and opened blood-shot,\nsuffering eyes.  Mugambi, whom the Arabs had left for dead, still\nlived.  The hot flames were almost upon him as he raised himself\npainfully upon his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward the\ndoorway.\n\nAgain and again he sank weakly to the floor; but each time he rose\nagain and continued his pitiful way toward safety.  After what seemed\nto him an interminable time, during which the flames had become a\nveritable fiery furnace at the far side of the room, the great black\nmanaged to reach the veranda, roll down the steps, and crawl off into\nthe cool safety of some nearby shrubbery.\n\nAll night he lay there, alternately unconscious and painfully sentient;\nand in the latter state watching with savage hatred the lurid flames\nwhich still rose from burning crib and hay cock.  A prowling lion\nroared close at hand; but the giant black was unafraid.  There was\nplace for but a single thought in his savage mind--revenge!  revenge!\nrevenge!\n\n\n\n\n7\n\nThe Jewel-Room of Opar\n\n\nFor some time Tarzan lay where he had fallen upon the floor of the\ntreasure chamber beneath the ruined walls of Opar.  He lay as one dead;\nbut he was not dead.  At length he stirred.  His eyes opened upon the\nutter darkness of the room.  He raised his hand to his head and brought\nit away sticky with clotted blood.  He sniffed at his fingers, as a\nwild beast might sniff at the life-blood upon a wounded paw.\n\nSlowly he rose to a sitting posture--listening.  No sound reached to\nthe buried depths of his sepulcher.  He staggered to his feet, and\ngroped his way about among the tiers of ingots.  What was he?  Where\nwas he?  His head ached; but otherwise he felt no ill effects from the\nblow that had felled him.  The accident he did not recall, nor did he\nrecall aught of what had led up to it.\n\nHe let his hands grope unfamiliarly over his limbs, his torso, and his\nhead.  He felt of the quiver at his back, the knife in his loin cloth.\nSomething struggled for recognition within his brain.  Ah!  he had it.\nThere was something missing.  He crawled about upon the floor, feeling\nwith his hands for the thing that instinct warned him was gone.  At\nlast he found it--the heavy war spear that in past years had formed so\nimportant a feature of his daily life, almost of his very existence, so\ninseparably had it been connected with his every action since the\nlong-gone day that he had wrested his first spear from the body of a\nblack victim of his savage training.\n\nTarzan was sure that there was another and more lovely world than that\nwhich was confined to the darkness of the four stone walls surrounding\nhim.  He continued his search and at last found the doorway leading\ninward beneath the city and the temple.  This he followed, most\nincautiously.  He came to the stone steps leading upward to the higher\nlevel.  He ascended them and continued onward toward the well.\n\nNothing spurred his hurt memory to a recollection of past familiarity\nwith his surroundings.  He blundered on through the darkness as though\nhe were traversing an open plain under the brilliance of a noonday sun,\nand suddenly there happened that which had to happen under the\ncircumstances of his rash advance.\n\nHe reached the brink of the well, stepped outward into space, lunged\nforward, and shot downward into the inky depths below.  Still clutching\nhis spear, he struck the water, and sank beneath its surface, plumbing\nthe depths.\n\nThe fall had not injured him, and when he rose to the surface, he shook\nthe water from his eyes, and found that he could see.  Daylight was\nfiltering into the well from the orifice far above his head.  It\nillumined the inner walls faintly.  Tarzan gazed about him.  On the\nlevel with the surface of the water he saw a large opening in the dark\nand slimy wall.  He swam to it, and drew himself out upon the wet floor\nof a tunnel.\n\nAlong this he passed; but now he went warily, for Tarzan of the Apes\nwas learning.  The unexpected pit had taught him care in the traversing\nof dark passageways--he needed no second lesson.\n\nFor a long distance the passage went straight as an arrow.  The floor\nwas slippery, as though at times the rising waters of the well\noverflowed and flooded it.  This, in itself, retarded Tarzan's pace,\nfor it was with difficulty that he kept his footing.\n\nThe foot of a stairway ended the passage.  Up this he made his way.  It\nturned back and forth many times, leading, at last, into a small,\ncircular chamber, the gloom of which was relieved by a faint light\nwhich found ingress through a tubular shaft several feet in diameter\nwhich rose from the center of the room's ceiling, upward to a distance\nof a hundred feet or more, where it terminated in a stone grating\nthrough which Tarzan could see a blue and sun-lit sky.\n\nCuriosity prompted the ape-man to investigate his surroundings.\nSeveral metal-bound, copper-studded chests constituted the sole\nfurniture of the round room.  Tarzan let his hands run over these.  He\nfelt of the copper studs, he pulled upon the hinges, and at last, by\nchance, he raised the cover of one.\n\nAn exclamation of delight broke from his lips at sight of the pretty\ncontents.  Gleaming and glistening in the subdued light of the chamber,\nlay a great tray full of brilliant stones.  Tarzan, reverted to the\nprimitive by his accident, had no conception of the fabulous value of\nhis find.  To him they were but pretty pebbles.  He plunged his hands\ninto them and let the priceless gems filter through his fingers.  He\nwent to others of the chests, only to find still further stores of\nprecious stones.  Nearly all were cut, and from these he gathered a\nhandful and filled the pouch which dangled at his side--the uncut\nstones he tossed back into the chests.\n\nUnwittingly, the ape-man had stumbled upon the forgotten jewel-room of\nOpar.  For ages it had lain buried beneath the temple of the Flaming\nGod, midway of one of the many inky passages which the superstitious\ndescendants of the ancient Sun Worshipers had either dared not or cared\nnot to explore.\n\nTiring at last of this diversion, Tarzan took up his way along the\ncorridor which led upward from the jewel-room by a steep incline.\nWinding and twisting, but always tending upward, the tunnel led him\nnearer and nearer to the surface, ending finally in a low-ceiled room,\nlighter than any that he had as yet discovered.\n\nAbove him an opening in the ceiling at the upper end of a flight of\nconcrete steps revealed a brilliant sunlit scene.  Tarzan viewed the\nvine-covered columns in mild wonderment.  He puckered his brows in an\nattempt to recall some recollection of similar things.  He was not sure\nof himself.  There was a tantalizing suggestion always present in his\nmind that something was eluding him--that he should know many things\nwhich he did not know.\n\nHis earnest cogitation was rudely interrupted by a thunderous roar from\nthe opening above him.  Following the roar came the cries and screams\nof men and women.  Tarzan grasped his spear more firmly and ascended\nthe steps.  A strange sight met his eyes as he emerged from the\nsemi-darkness of the cellar to the brilliant light of the temple.\n\nThe creatures he saw before him he recognized for what they were--men\nand women, and a huge lion.  The men and women were scuttling for the\nsafety of the exits.  The lion stood upon the body of one who had been\nless fortunate than the others.  He was in the center of the temple.\nDirectly before Tarzan, a woman stood beside a block of stone.  Upon\nthe top of the stone lay stretched a man, and as the ape-man watched\nthe scene, he saw the lion glare terribly at the two who remained\nwithin the temple.  Another thunderous roar broke from the savage\nthroat, the woman screamed and swooned across the body of the man\nstretched prostrate upon the stone altar before her.\n\nThe lion advanced a few steps and crouched.  The tip of his sinuous\ntail twitched nervously.  He was upon the point of charging when his\neyes were attracted toward the ape-man.\n\nWerper, helpless upon the altar, saw the great carnivore preparing to\nleap upon him.  He saw the sudden change in the beast's expression as\nhis eyes wandered to something beyond the altar and out of the\nBelgian's view.  He saw the formidable creature rise to a standing\nposition.  A figure darted past Werper.  He saw a mighty arm upraised,\nand a stout spear shoot forward toward the lion, to bury itself in the\nbroad chest.\n\nHe saw the lion snapping and tearing at the weapon's shaft, and he saw,\nwonder of wonders, the naked giant who had hurled the missile charging\nupon the great beast, only a long knife ready to meet those ferocious\nfangs and talons.\n\nThe lion reared up to meet this new enemy.  The beast was growling\nfrightfully, and then upon the startled ears of the Belgian, broke a\nsimilar savage growl from the lips of the man rushing upon the beast.\n\nBy a quick side step, Tarzan eluded the first swinging clutch of the\nlion's paws.  Darting to the beast's side, he leaped upon the tawny\nback.  His arms encircled the maned neck, his teeth sank deep into the\nbrute's flesh.  Roaring, leaping, rolling and struggling, the giant cat\nattempted to dislodge this savage enemy, and all the while one great,\nbrown fist was driving a long keen blade repeatedly into the beast's\nside.\n\nDuring the battle, La regained consciousness.  Spellbound, she stood\nabove her victim watching the spectacle. It seemed incredible that a\nhuman being could best the king of beasts in personal encounter and yet\nbefore her very eyes there was taking place just such an improbability.\n\nAt last Tarzan's knife found the great heart, and with a final,\nspasmodic struggle the lion rolled over upon the marble floor, dead.\nLeaping to his feet the conqueror placed a foot upon the carcass of his\nkill, raised his face toward the heavens, and gave voice to so hideous\na cry that both La and Werper trembled as it reverberated through the\ntemple.\n\nThen the ape-man turned, and Werper recognized him as the man he had\nleft for dead in the treasure room.\n\n\n\n\n8\n\nThe Escape from Opar\n\n\nWerper was astounded.  Could this creature be the same dignified\nEnglishman who had entertained him so graciously in his luxurious\nAfrican home?  Could this wild beast, with blazing eyes, and bloody\ncountenance, be at the same time a man?  Could the horrid, victory cry\nhe had but just heard have been formed in human throat?\n\nTarzan was eyeing the man and the woman, a puzzled expression in his\neyes, but there was no faintest tinge of recognition.  It was as though\nhe had discovered some new species of living creature and was marveling\nat his find.\n\nLa was studying the ape-man's features.  Slowly her large eyes opened\nvery wide.\n\n\"Tarzan!\" she exclaimed, and then, in the vernacular of the great apes\nwhich constant association with the anthropoids had rendered the common\nlanguage of the Oparians: \"You have come back to me!  La has ignored\nthe mandates of her religion, waiting, always waiting for Tarzan--for\nher Tarzan.  She has taken no mate, for in all the world there was but\none with whom La would mate.  And now you have come back!  Tell me, O\nTarzan, that it is for me you have returned.\"\n\nWerper listened to the unintelligible jargon.  He looked from La to\nTarzan.  Would the latter understand this strange tongue?  To the\nBelgian's surprise, the Englishman answered in a language evidently\nidentical to hers.\n\n\"Tarzan,\" he repeated, musingly.  \"Tarzan.  The name sounds familiar.\"\n\n\"It is your name--you are Tarzan,\" cried La.\n\n\"I am Tarzan?\" The ape-man shrugged.  \"Well, it is a good name--I know\nno other, so I will keep it; but I do not know you.  I did not come\nhither for you.  Why I came, I do not know at all; neither do I know\nfrom whence I came.  Can you tell me?\"\n\nLa shook her head.  \"I never knew,\" she replied.\n\nTarzan turned toward Werper and put the same question to him; but in\nthe language of the great apes.  The Belgian shook his head.\n\n\"I do not understand that language,\" he said in French.\n\nWithout effort, and apparently without realizing that he made the\nchange, Tarzan repeated his question in French.  Werper suddenly came\nto a full realization of the magnitude of the injury of which Tarzan\nwas a victim.  The man had lost his memory--no longer could he\nrecollect past events.  The Belgian was upon the point of enlightening\nhim, when it suddenly occurred to him that by keeping Tarzan in\nignorance, for a time at least, of his true identity, it might be\npossible to turn the ape-man's misfortune to his own advantage.\n\n\"I cannot tell you from whence you came,\" he said; \"but this I can tell\nyou--if we do not get out of this horrible place we shall both be slain\nupon this bloody altar.  The woman was about to plunge her knife into\nmy heart when the lion interrupted the fiendish ritual.  Come!  Before\nthey recover from their fright and reassemble, let us find a way out of\ntheir damnable temple.\"\n\nTarzan turned again toward La.\n\n\"Why,\" he asked, \"would you have killed this man?  Are you hungry?\"\n\nThe High Priestess cried out in disgust.\n\n\"Did he attempt to kill you?\" continued Tarzan.\n\nThe woman shook her head.\n\n\"Then why should you have wished to kill him?\" Tarzan was determined to\nget to the bottom of the thing.\n\nLa raised her slender arm and pointed toward the sun.\n\n\"We were offering up his soul as a gift to the Flaming God,\" she said.\n\nTarzan looked puzzled.  He was again an ape, and apes do not understand\nsuch matters as souls and Flaming Gods.\n\n\"Do you wish to die?\" he asked Werper.\n\nThe Belgian assured him, with tears in his eyes, that he did not wish\nto die.\n\n\"Very well then, you shall not,\" said Tarzan.  \"Come!  We will go.\nThis SHE would kill you and keep me for herself.  It is no place anyway\nfor a Mangani.  I should soon die, shut up behind these stone walls.\"\n\nHe turned toward La.  \"We are going now,\" he said.\n\nThe woman rushed forward and seized the ape-man's hands in hers.\n\n\"Do not leave me!\" she cried.  \"Stay, and you shall be High Priest.  La\nloves you.  All Opar shall be yours.  Slaves shall wait upon you.\nStay, Tarzan of the Apes, and let love reward you.\"\n\nThe ape-man pushed the kneeling woman aside.  \"Tarzan does not desire\nyou,\" he said, simply, and stepping to Werper's side he cut the\nBelgian's bonds and motioned him to follow.\n\nPanting--her face convulsed with rage, La sprang to her feet.\n\n\"Stay, you shall!\" she screamed.  \"La will have you--if she cannot have\nyou alive, she will have you dead,\" and raising her face to the sun she\ngave voice to the same hideous shriek that Werper had heard once before\nand Tarzan many times.\n\nIn answer to her cry a babel of voices broke from the surrounding\nchambers and corridors.\n\n\"Come, Guardian Priests!\" she cried.  \"The infidels have profaned the\nholiest of the holies.  Come!  Strike terror to their hearts; defend La\nand her altar; wash clean the temple with the blood of the polluters.\"\n\nTarzan understood, though Werper did not.  The former glanced at the\nBelgian and saw that he was unarmed.  Stepping quickly to La's side the\nape-man seized her in his strong arms and though she fought with all\nthe mad savagery of a demon, he soon disarmed her, handing her long,\nsacrificial knife to Werper.\n\n\"You will need this,\" he said, and then from each doorway a horde of\nthe monstrous, little men of Opar streamed into the temple.\n\nThey were armed with bludgeons and knives, and fortified in their\ncourage by fanatical hate and frenzy.  Werper was terrified.  Tarzan\nstood eyeing the foe in proud disdain. Slowly he advanced toward the\nexit he had chosen to utilize in making his way from the temple.  A\nburly priest barred his way.  Behind the first was a score of others.\nTarzan swung his heavy spear, clublike, down upon the skull of the\npriest.  The fellow collapsed, his head crushed.\n\nAgain and again the weapon fell as Tarzan made his way slowly toward\nthe doorway.  Werper pressed close behind, casting backward glances\ntoward the shrieking, dancing mob menacing their rear.  He held the\nsacrificial knife ready to strike whoever might come within its reach;\nbut none came.  For a time he wondered that they should so bravely\nbattle with the giant ape-man, yet hesitate to rush upon him, who was\nrelatively so weak.  Had they done so he knew that he must have fallen\nat the first charge.  Tarzan had reached the doorway over the corpses\nof all that had stood to dispute his way, before Werper guessed at the\nreason for his immunity.  The priests feared the sacrificial knife!\nWillingly would they face death and welcome it if it came while they\ndefended their High Priestess and her altar; but evidently there were\ndeaths, and deaths.  Some strange superstition must surround that\npolished blade, that no Oparian cared to chance a death thrust from it,\nyet gladly rushed to the slaughter of the ape-man's flaying spear.\n\nOnce outside the temple court, Werper communicated his discovery to\nTarzan.  The ape-man grinned, and let Werper go before him, brandishing\nthe jeweled and holy weapon.  Like leaves before a gale, the Oparians\nscattered in all directions and Tarzan and the Belgian found a clear\npassage through the corridors and chambers of the ancient temple.\n\nThe Belgian's eyes went wide as they passed through the room of the\nseven pillars of solid gold.  With ill-concealed avarice he looked upon\nthe age-old, golden tablets set in the walls of nearly every room and\ndown the sides of many of the corridors.  To the ape-man all this\nwealth appeared to mean nothing.\n\nOn the two went, chance leading them toward the broad avenue which lay\nbetween the stately piles of the half-ruined edifices and the inner\nwall of the city.  Great apes jabbered at them and menaced them; but\nTarzan answered them after their own kind, giving back taunt for taunt,\ninsult for insult, challenge for challenge.\n\nWerper saw a hairy bull swing down from a broken column and advance,\nstiff-legged and bristling, toward the naked giant.  The yellow fangs\nwere bared, angry snarls and barkings rumbled threateningly through the\nthick and hanging lips.\n\nThe Belgian watched his companion.  To his horror, he saw the man stoop\nuntil his closed knuckles rested upon the ground as did those of the\nanthropoid.  He saw him circle, stiff-legged about the circling ape.\nHe heard the same bestial barkings and growlings issue from the human\nthroat that were coming from the mouth of the brute.  Had his eyes been\nclosed he could not have known but that two giant apes were bridling\nfor combat.\n\nBut there was no battle.  It ended as the majority of such jungle\nencounters end--one of the boasters loses his nerve, and becomes\nsuddenly interested in a blowing leaf, a beetle, or the lice upon his\nhairy stomach.\n\nIn this instance it was the anthropoid that retired in stiff dignity to\ninspect an unhappy caterpillar, which he presently devoured.  For a\nmoment Tarzan seemed inclined to pursue the argument.  He swaggered\ntruculently, stuck out his chest, roared and advanced closer to the\nbull.  It was with difficulty that Werper finally persuaded him to\nleave well enough alone and continue his way from the ancient city of\nthe Sun Worshipers.\n\nThe two searched for nearly an hour before they found the narrow exit\nthrough the inner wall.  From there the well-worn trail led them beyond\nthe outer fortification to the desolate valley of Opar.\n\nTarzan had no idea, in so far as Werper could discover, as to where he\nwas or whence he came.  He wandered aimlessly about, searching for\nfood, which he discovered beneath small rocks, or hiding in the shade\nof the scant brush which dotted the ground.\n\nThe Belgian was horrified by the hideous menu of his companion.\nBeetles, rodents and caterpillars were devoured with seeming relish.\nTarzan was indeed an ape again.\n\nAt last Werper succeeded in leading his companion toward the distant\nhills which mark the northwestern boundary of the valley, and together\nthe two set out in the direction of the Greystoke bungalow.\n\nWhat purpose prompted the Belgian in leading the victim of his\ntreachery and greed back toward his former home it is difficult to\nguess, unless it was that without Tarzan there could be no ransom for\nTarzan's wife.\n\nThat night they camped in the valley beyond the hills, and as they sat\nbefore a little fire where cooked a wild pig that had fallen to one of\nTarzan's arrows, the latter sat lost in speculation.  He seemed\ncontinually to be trying to grasp some mental image which as constantly\neluded him.\n\nAt last he opened the leathern pouch which hung at his side.  From it\nhe poured into the palm of his hand a quantity of glittering gems.  The\nfirelight playing upon them conjured a multitude of scintillating rays,\nand as the wide eyes of the Belgian looked on in rapt fascination, the\nman's expression at last acknowledged a tangible purpose in courting\nthe society of the ape-man.\n\n\n\n\n9\n\nThe Theft of the Jewels\n\n\nFor two days Werper sought for the party that had accompanied him from\nthe camp to the barrier cliffs; but not until late in the afternoon of\nthe second day did he find clew to its whereabouts, and then in such\ngruesome form that he was totally unnerved by the sight.\n\nIn an open glade he came upon the bodies of three of the blacks,\nterribly mutilated, nor did it require considerable deductive power to\nexplain their murder.  Of the little party only these three had not\nbeen slaves.  The others, evidently tempted to hope for freedom from\ntheir cruel Arab master, had taken advantage of their separation from\nthe main camp, to slay the three representatives of the hated power\nwhich held them in slavery, and vanish into the jungle.\n\nCold sweat exuded from Werper's forehead as he contemplated the fate\nwhich chance had permitted him to escape, for had he been present when\nthe conspiracy bore fruit, he, too, must have been of the garnered.\n\nTarzan showed not the slightest surprise or interest in the discovery.\nInherent in him was a calloused familiarity with violent death.  The\nrefinements of his recent civilization expunged by the force of the sad\ncalamity which had befallen him, left only the primitive sensibilities\nwhich his childhood's training had imprinted indelibly upon the fabric\nof his mind.\n\nThe training of Kala, the examples and precepts of Kerchak, of Tublat,\nand of Terkoz now formed the basis of his every thought and action.  He\nretained a mechanical knowledge of French and English speech.  Werper\nhad spoken to him in French, and Tarzan had replied in the same tongue\nwithout conscious realization that he had departed from the\nanthropoidal speech in which he had addressed La.  Had Werper used\nEnglish, the result would have been the same.\n\nAgain, that night, as the two sat before their camp fire, Tarzan played\nwith his shining baubles.  Werper asked him what they were and where he\nhad found them.  The ape-man replied that they were gay-colored stones,\nwith which he purposed fashioning a necklace, and that he had found\nthem far beneath the sacrificial court of the temple of the Flaming God.\n\nWerper was relieved to find that Tarzan had no conception of the value\nof the gems.  This would make it easier for the Belgian to obtain\npossession of them.  Possibly the man would give them to him for the\nasking.  Werper reached out his hand toward the little pile that Tarzan\nhad arranged upon a piece of flat wood before him.\n\n\"Let me see them,\" said the Belgian.\n\nTarzan placed a large palm over his treasure.  He bared his fighting\nfangs, and growled.  Werper withdrew his hand more quickly than he had\nadvanced it.  Tarzan resumed his playing with the gems, and his\nconversation with Werper as though nothing unusual had occurred.  He\nhad but exhibited the beast's jealous protective instinct for a\npossession.  When he killed he shared the meat with Werper; but had\nWerper ever, by accident, laid a hand upon Tarzan's share, he would\nhave aroused the same savage, and resentful warning.\n\nFrom that occurrence dated the beginning of a great fear in the breast\nof the Belgian for his savage companion.  He had never understood the\ntransformation that had been wrought in Tarzan by the blow upon his\nhead, other than to attribute it to a form of amnesia.  That Tarzan had\nonce been, in truth, a savage, jungle beast, Werper had not known, and\nso, of course, he could not guess that the man had reverted to the\nstate in which his childhood and young manhood had been spent.\n\nNow Werper saw in the Englishman a dangerous maniac, whom the slightest\nuntoward accident might turn upon him with rending fangs.  Not for a\nmoment did Werper attempt to delude himself into the belief that he\ncould defend himself successfully against an attack by the ape-man.\nHis one hope lay in eluding him, and making for the far distant camp of\nAchmet Zek as rapidly as he could; but armed only with the sacrificial\nknife, Werper shrank from attempting the journey through the jungle.\nTarzan constituted a protection that was by no means despicable, even\nin the face of the larger carnivora, as Werper had reason to\nacknowledge from the evidence he had witnessed in the Oparian temple.\n\nToo, Werper had his covetous soul set upon the pouch of gems, and so he\nwas torn between the various emotions of avarice and fear.  But avarice\nit was that burned most strongly in his breast, to the end that he\ndared the dangers and suffered the terrors of constant association with\nhim he thought a mad man, rather than give up the hope of obtaining\npossession of the fortune which the contents of the little pouch\nrepresented.\n\nAchmet Zek should know nothing of these--these would be for Werper\nalone, and so soon as he could encompass his design he would reach the\ncoast and take passage for America, where he could conceal himself\nbeneath the veil of a new identity and enjoy to some measure the fruits\nof his theft.  He had it all planned out, did Lieutenant Albert Werper,\nliving in anticipation the luxurious life of the idle rich.  He even\nfound himself regretting that America was so provincial, and that\nnowhere in the new world was a city that might compare with his beloved\nBrussels.\n\nIt was upon the third day of their progress from Opar that the keen\nears of Tarzan caught the sound of men behind them.  Werper heard\nnothing above the humming of the jungle insects, and the chattering\nlife of the lesser monkeys and the birds.\n\nFor a time Tarzan stood in statuesque silence, listening, his sensitive\nnostrils dilating as he assayed each passing breeze.  Then he withdrew\nWerper into the concealment of thick brush, and waited.  Presently,\nalong the game trail that Werper and Tarzan had been following, there\ncame in sight a sleek, black warrior, alert and watchful.\n\nIn single file behind him, there followed, one after another, near\nfifty others, each burdened with two dull-yellow ingots lashed upon his\nback.  Werper recognized the party immediately as that which had\naccompanied Tarzan on his journey to Opar.  He glanced at the ape-man;\nbut in the savage, watchful eyes he saw no recognition of Basuli and\nthose other loyal Waziri.\n\nWhen all had passed, Tarzan rose and emerged from concealment.  He\nlooked down the trail in the direction the party had gone.  Then he\nturned to Werper.\n\n\"We will follow and slay them,\" he said.\n\n\"Why?\" asked the Belgian.\n\n\"They are black,\" explained Tarzan.  \"It was a black who killed Kala.\nThey are the enemies of the Manganis.\"\n\nWerper did not relish the idea of engaging in a battle with Basuli and\nhis fierce fighting men.  And, again, he had welcomed the sight of them\nreturning toward the Greystoke bungalow, for he had begun to have\ndoubts as to his ability to retrace his steps to the Waziri country.\nTarzan, he knew, had not the remotest idea of whither they were going.\nBy keeping at a safe distance behind the laden warriors, they would\nhave no difficulty in following them home.  Once at the bungalow,\nWerper knew the way to the camp of Achmet Zek.  There was still another\nreason why he did not wish to interfere with the Waziri--they were\nbearing the great burden of treasure in the direction he wished it\nborne.  The farther they took it, the less the distance that he and\nAchmet Zek would have to transport it.\n\nHe argued with the ape-man therefore, against the latter's desire to\nexterminate the blacks, and at last he prevailed upon Tarzan to follow\nthem in peace, saying that he was sure they would lead them out of the\nforest into a rich country, teeming with game.\n\nIt was many marches from Opar to the Waziri country; but at last came\nthe hour when Tarzan and the Belgian, following the trail of the\nwarriors, topped the last rise, and saw before them the broad Waziri\nplain, the winding river, and the distant forests to the north and west.\n\nA mile or more ahead of them, the line of warriors was creeping like a\ngiant caterpillar through the tall grasses of the plain.  Beyond,\ngrazing herds of zebra, hartebeest, and topi dotted the level\nlandscape, while closer to the river a bull buffalo, his head and\nshoulders protruding from the reeds watched the advancing blacks for a\nmoment, only to turn at last and disappear into the safety of his dank\nand gloomy retreat.\n\nTarzan looked out across the familiar vista with no faintest gleam of\nrecognition in his eyes.  He saw the game animals, and his mouth\nwatered; but he did not look in the direction of his bungalow.  Werper,\nhowever, did.  A puzzled expression entered the Belgian's eyes.  He\nshaded them with his palms and gazed long and earnestly toward the spot\nwhere the bungalow had stood.  He could not credit the testimony of his\neyes--there was no bungalow--no barns--no out-houses.  The corrals, the\nhay stacks--all were gone.  What could it mean?\n\nAnd then, slowly there filtered into Werper's consciousness an\nexplanation of the havoc that had been wrought in that peaceful valley\nsince last his eyes had rested upon it--Achmet Zek had been there!\n\nBasuli and his warriors had noted the devastation the moment they had\ncome in sight of the farm.  Now they hastened on toward it talking\nexcitedly among themselves in animated speculation upon the cause and\nmeaning of the catastrophe.\n\nWhen, at last they crossed the trampled garden and stood before the\ncharred ruins of their master's bungalow, their greatest fears became\nconvictions in the light of the evidence about them.\n\nRemnants of human dead, half devoured by prowling hyenas and others of\nthe carnivora which infested the region, lay rotting upon the ground,\nand among the corpses remained sufficient remnants of their clothing\nand ornaments to make clear to Basuli the frightful story of the\ndisaster that had befallen his master's house.\n\n\"The Arabs,\" he said, as his men clustered about him.\n\nThe Waziri gazed about in mute rage for several minutes.  Everywhere\nthey encountered only further evidence of the ruthlessness of the cruel\nenemy that had come during the Great Bwana's absence and laid waste his\nproperty.\n\n\"What did they with 'Lady'?\" asked one of the blacks.\n\nThey had always called Lady Greystoke thus.\n\n\"The women they would have taken with them,\" said Basuli.  \"Our women\nand his.\"\n\nA giant black raised his spear above his head, and gave voice to a\nsavage cry of rage and hate.  The others followed his example.  Basuli\nsilenced them with a gesture.\n\n\"This is no time for useless noises of the mouth,\" he said.  \"The Great\nBwana has taught us that it is acts by which things are done, not\nwords.  Let us save our breath--we shall need it all to follow up the\nArabs and slay them.  If 'Lady' and our women live the greater the need\nof haste, and warriors cannot travel fast upon empty lungs.\"\n\nFrom the shelter of the reeds along the river, Werper and Tarzan\nwatched the blacks.  They saw them dig a trench with their knives and\nfingers.  They saw them lay their yellow burdens in it and scoop the\noverturned earth back over the tops of the ingots.\n\nTarzan seemed little interested, after Werper had assured him that that\nwhich they buried was not good to eat; but Werper was intensely\ninterested.  He would have given much had he had his own followers with\nhim, that he might take away the treasure as soon as the blacks left,\nfor he was sure that they would leave this scene of desolation and\ndeath as soon as possible.\n\nThe treasure buried, the blacks removed themselves a short distance up\nwind from the fetid corpses, where they made camp, that they might rest\nbefore setting out in pursuit of the Arabs.  It was already dusk.\nWerper and Tarzan sat devouring some pieces of meat they had brought\nfrom their last camp.  The Belgian was occupied with his plans for the\nimmediate future.  He was positive that the Waziri would pursue Achmet\nZek, for he knew enough of savage warfare, and of the characteristics\nof the Arabs and their degraded followers to guess that they had\ncarried the Waziri women off into slavery.  This alone would assure\nimmediate pursuit by so warlike a people as the Waziri.\n\nWerper felt that he should find the means and the opportunity to push\non ahead, that he might warn Achmet Zek of the coming of Basuli, and\nalso of the location of the buried treasure.  What the Arab would now\ndo with Lady Greystoke, in view of the mental affliction of her\nhusband, Werper neither knew nor cared.  It was enough that the golden\ntreasure buried upon the site of the burned bungalow was infinitely\nmore valuable than any ransom that would have occurred even to the\navaricious mind of the Arab, and if Werper could persuade the raider to\nshare even a portion of it with him he would be well satisfied.\n\nBut by far the most important consideration, to Werper, at least, was\nthe incalculably valuable treasure in the little leathern pouch at\nTarzan's side.  If he could but obtain possession of this!  He must!\nHe would!\n\nHis eyes wandered to the object of his greed.  They measured Tarzan's\ngiant frame, and rested upon the rounded muscles of his arms.  It was\nhopeless.  What could he, Werper, hope to accomplish, other than his\nown death, by an attempt to wrest the gems from their savage owner?\n\nDisconsolate, Werper threw himself upon his side.  His head was\npillowed on one arm, the other rested across his face in such a way\nthat his eyes were hidden from the ape-man, though one of them was\nfastened upon him from beneath the shadow of the Belgian's forearm.\nFor a time he lay thus, glowering at Tarzan, and originating schemes\nfor plundering him of his treasure--schemes that were discarded as\nfutile as rapidly as they were born.\n\nTarzan presently let his own eyes rest upon Werper.  The Belgian saw\nthat he was being watched, and lay very still.  After a few moments he\nsimulated the regular breathing of deep slumber.\n\nTarzan had been thinking.  He had seen the Waziri bury their\nbelongings.  Werper had told him that they were hiding them lest some\none find them and take them away.  This seemed to Tarzan a splendid\nplan for safeguarding valuables.  Since Werper had evinced a desire to\npossess his glittering pebbles, Tarzan, with the suspicions of a\nsavage, had guarded the baubles, of whose worth he was entirely\nignorant, as zealously as though they spelled life or death to him.\n\nFor a long time the ape-man sat watching his companion.  At last,\nconvinced that he slept, Tarzan withdrew his hunting knife and\ncommenced to dig a hole in the ground before him.  With the blade he\nloosened up the earth, and with his hands he scooped it out until he\nhad excavated a little cavity a few inches in diameter, and five or six\ninches in depth.  Into this he placed the pouch of jewels.  Werper\nalmost forgot to breathe after the fashion of a sleeper as he saw what\nthe ape-man was doing--he scarce repressed an ejaculation of\nsatisfaction.\n\nTarzan become suddenly rigid as his keen ears noted the cessation of\nthe regular inspirations and expirations of his companion.  His\nnarrowed eyes bored straight down upon the Belgian.  Werper felt that\nhe was lost--he must risk all on his ability to carry on the deception.\nHe sighed, threw both arms outward, and turned over on his back\nmumbling as though in the throes of a bad dream.  A moment later he\nresumed the regular breathing.\n\nNow he could not watch Tarzan, but he was sure that the man sat for a\nlong time looking at him.  Then, faintly, Werper heard the other's\nhands scraping dirt, and later patting it down.  He knew then that the\njewels were buried.\n\nIt was an hour before Werper moved again, then he rolled over facing\nTarzan and opened his eyes.  The ape-man slept.  By reaching out his\nhand Werper could touch the spot where the pouch was buried.\n\nFor a long time he lay watching and listening.  He moved about, making\nmore noise than necessary, yet Tarzan did not awaken.  He drew the\nsacrificial knife from his belt, and plunged it into the ground.\nTarzan did not move.  Cautiously the Belgian pushed the blade downward\nthrough the loose earth above the pouch.  He felt the point touch the\nsoft, tough fabric of the leather.  Then he pried down upon the handle.\nSlowly the little mound of loose earth rose and parted.  An instant\nlater a corner of the pouch came into view.  Werper pulled it from its\nhiding place, and tucked it in his shirt.  Then he refilled the hole\nand pressed the dirt carefully down as it had been before.\n\nGreed had prompted him to an act, the discovery of which by his\ncompanion could lead only to the most frightful consequences for\nWerper.  Already he could almost feel those strong, white fangs burying\nthemselves in his neck.  He shuddered.  Far out across the plain a\nleopard screamed, and in the dense reeds behind him some great beast\nmoved on padded feet.\n\nWerper feared these prowlers of the night; but infinitely more he\nfeared the just wrath of the human beast sleeping at his side.  With\nutmost caution the Belgian arose.  Tarzan did not move.  Werper took a\nfew steps toward the plain and the distant forest to the northwest,\nthen he paused and fingered the hilt of the long knife in his belt.  He\nturned and looked down upon the sleeper.\n\n\"Why not?\" he mused.  \"Then I should be safe.\"\n\nHe returned and bent above the ape-man.  Clutched tightly in his hand\nwas the sacrificial knife of the High Priestess of the Flaming God!\n\n\n\n\n10\n\nAchmet Zek Sees the Jewels\n\n\nMugambi, weak and suffering, had dragged his painful way along the\ntrail of the retreating raiders.  He could move but slowly, resting\noften; but savage hatred and an equally savage desire for vengeance\nkept him to his task.  As the days passed his wounds healed and his\nstrength returned, until at last his giant frame had regained all of\nits former mighty powers.  Now he went more rapidly; but the mounted\nArabs had covered a great distance while the wounded black had been\npainfully crawling after them.\n\nThey had reached their fortified camp, and there Achmet Zek awaited the\nreturn of his lieutenant, Albert Werper.  During the long, rough\njourney, Jane Clayton had suffered more in anticipation of her\nimpending fate than from the hardships of the road.\n\nAchmet Zek had not deigned to acquaint her with his intentions\nregarding her future.  She prayed that she had been captured in the\nhope of ransom, for if such should prove the case, no great harm would\nbefall her at the hands of the Arabs; but there was the chance, the\nhorrid chance, that another fate awaited her.  She had heard of many\nwomen, among whom were white women, who had been sold by outlaws such\nas Achmet Zek into the slavery of black harems, or taken farther north\ninto the almost equally hideous existence of some Turkish seraglio.\n\nJane Clayton was of sterner stuff than that which bends in spineless\nterror before danger.  Until hope proved futile she would not give it\nup; nor did she entertain thoughts of self-destruction only as a final\nescape from dishonor.  So long as Tarzan lived there was every reason\nto expect succor.  No man nor beast who roamed the savage continent\ncould boast the cunning and the powers of her lord and master.  To her,\nhe was little short of omnipotent in his native world--this world of\nsavage beasts and savage men.  Tarzan would come, and she would be\nrescued and avenged, of that she was certain.  She counted the days\nthat must elapse before he would return from Opar and discover what had\ntranspired during his absence.  After that it would be but a short time\nbefore he had surrounded the Arab stronghold and punished the motley\ncrew of wrongdoers who inhabited it.\n\nThat he could find her she had no slightest doubt.  No spoor, however\nfaint, could elude the keen vigilance of his senses.  To him, the trail\nof the raiders would be as plain as the printed page of an open book to\nher.\n\nAnd while she hoped, there came through the dark jungle another.\nTerrified by night and by day, came Albert Werper.  A dozen times he\nhad escaped the claws and fangs of the giant carnivora only by what\nseemed a miracle to him.  Armed with nothing more than the knife he had\nbrought with him from Opar, he had made his way through as savage a\ncountry as yet exists upon the face of the globe.\n\nBy night he had slept in trees.  By day he had stumbled fearfully on,\noften taking refuge among the branches when sight or sound of some\ngreat cat warned him from danger.  But at last he had come within sight\nof the palisade behind which were his fierce companions.\n\nAt almost the same time Mugambi came out of the jungle before the\nwalled village.  As he stood in the shadow of a great tree,\nreconnoitering, he saw a man, ragged and disheveled, emerge from the\njungle almost at his elbow.  Instantly he recognized the newcomer as he\nwho had been a guest of his master before the latter had departed for\nOpar.\n\nThe black was upon the point of hailing the Belgian when something\nstayed him.  He saw the white man walking confidently across the\nclearing toward the village gate.  No sane man thus approached a\nvillage in this part of Africa unless he was sure of a friendly\nwelcome.  Mugambi waited.  His suspicions were aroused.\n\nHe heard Werper halloo; he saw the gates swing open, and he witnessed\nthe surprised and friendly welcome that was accorded the erstwhile\nguest of Lord and Lady Greystoke.  A light broke upon the understanding\nof Mugambi.  This white man had been a traitor and a spy.  It was to\nhim they owed the raid during the absence of the Great Bwana.  To his\nhate for the Arabs, Mugambi added a still greater hate for the white\nspy.\n\nWithin the village Werper passed hurriedly toward the silken tent of\nAchmet Zek.  The Arab arose as his lieutenant entered.  His face showed\nsurprise as he viewed the tattered apparel of the Belgian.\n\n\"What has happened?\" he asked.\n\nWerper narrated all, save the little matter of the pouch of gems which\nwere now tightly strapped about his waist, beneath his clothing.  The\nArab's eyes narrowed greedily as his henchman described the treasure\nthat the Waziri had buried beside the ruins of the Greystoke bungalow.\n\n\"It will be a simple matter now to return and get it,\" said Achmet Zek.\n\"First we will await the coming of the rash Waziri, and after we have\nslain them we may take our time to the treasure--none will disturb it\nwhere it lies, for we shall leave none alive who knows of its existence.\n\n\"And the woman?\" asked Werper.\n\n\"I shall sell her in the north,\" replied the raider.  \"It is the only\nway, now.  She should bring a good price.\"\n\nThe Belgian nodded.  He was thinking rapidly.  If he could persuade\nAchmet Zek to send him in command of the party which took Lady\nGreystoke north it would give him the opportunity he craved to make his\nescape from his chief.  He would forego a share of the gold, if he\ncould but get away unscathed with the jewels.\n\nHe knew Achmet Zek well enough by this time to know that no member of\nhis band ever was voluntarily released from the service of Achmet Zek.\nMost of the few who deserted were recaptured.  More than once had\nWerper listened to their agonized screams as they were tortured before\nbeing put to death.  The Belgian had no wish to take the slightest\nchance of recapture.\n\n\"Who will go north with the woman,\" he asked, \"while we are returning\nfor the gold that the Waziri buried by the bungalow of the Englishman?\"\n\nAchmet Zek thought for a moment.  The buried gold was of much greater\nvalue than the price the woman would bring.  It was necessary to rid\nhimself of her as quickly as possible and it was also well to obtain\nthe gold with the least possible delay.  Of all his followers, the\nBelgian was the most logical lieutenant to intrust with the command of\none of the parties.  An Arab, as familiar with the trails and tribes as\nAchmet Zek himself, might collect the woman's price and make good his\nescape into the far north.  Werper, on the other hand, could scarce\nmake his escape alone through a country hostile to Europeans while the\nmen he would send with the Belgian could be carefully selected with a\nview to preventing Werper from persuading any considerable portion of\nhis command to accompany him should he contemplate desertion of his\nchief.\n\nAt last the Arab spoke: \"It is not necessary that we both return for\nthe gold.  You shall go north with the woman, carrying a letter to a\nfriend of mine who is always in touch with the best markets for such\nmerchandise, while I return for the gold.  We can meet again here when\nour business is concluded.\"\n\nWerper could scarce disguise the joy with which he received this\nwelcome decision.  And that he did entirely disguise it from the keen\nand suspicious eyes of Achmet Zek is open to question.  However, the\ndecision reached, the Arab and his lieutenant discussed the details of\ntheir forthcoming ventures for a short time further, when Werper made\nhis excuses and returned to his own tent for the comforts and luxury of\na long-desired bath and shave.\n\nHaving bathed, the Belgian tied a small hand mirror to a cord sewn to\nthe rear wall of his tent, placed a rude chair beside an equally rude\ntable that stood beside the glass, and proceeded to remove the rough\nstubble from his face.\n\nIn the catalog of masculine pleasures there is scarce one which imparts\na feeling of greater comfort and refreshment than follows a clean\nshave, and now, with weariness temporarily banished, Albert Werper\nsprawled in his rickety chair to enjoy a final cigaret before retiring.\nHis thumbs, tucked in his belt in lazy support of the weight of his\narms, touched the belt which held the jewel pouch about his waist.  He\ntingled with excitement as he let his mind dwell upon the value of the\ntreasure, which, unknown to all save himself, lay hidden beneath his\nclothing.\n\nWhat would Achmet Zek say, if he knew?  Werper grinned.  How the old\nrascal's eyes would pop could he but have a glimpse of those\nscintillating beauties!  Werper had never yet had an opportunity to\nfeast his eyes for any great length of time upon them.  He had not even\ncounted them--only roughly had he guessed at their value.\n\nHe unfastened the belt and drew the pouch from its hiding place.  He\nwas alone.  The balance of the camp, save the sentries, had\nretired--none would enter the Belgian's tent.  He fingered the pouch,\nfeeling out the shapes and sizes of the precious, little nodules\nwithin.  He hefted the bag, first in one palm, then in the other, and\nat last he wheeled his chair slowly around before the table, and in the\nrays of his small lamp let the glittering gems roll out upon the rough\nwood.\n\nThe refulgent rays transformed the interior of the soiled and squalid\ncanvas to the splendor of a palace in the eyes of the dreaming man.  He\nsaw the gilded halls of pleasure that would open their portals to the\npossessor of the wealth which lay scattered upon this stained and\ndented table top.  He dreamed of joys and luxuries and power which\nalways had been beyond his grasp, and as he dreamed his gaze lifted\nfrom the table, as the gaze of a dreamer will, to a far distant goal\nabove the mean horizon of terrestrial commonplaceness.\n\nUnseeing, his eyes rested upon the shaving mirror which still hung upon\nthe tent wall above the table; but his sight was focused far beyond.\nAnd then a reflection moved within the polished surface of the tiny\nglass, the man's eyes shot back out of space to the mirror's face, and\nin it he saw reflected the grim visage of Achmet Zek, framed in the\nflaps of the tent doorway behind him.\n\nWerper stifled a gasp of dismay.  With rare self-possession he let his\ngaze drop, without appearing to have halted upon the mirror until it\nrested again upon the gems.  Without haste, he replaced them in the\npouch, tucked the latter into his shirt, selected a cigaret from his\ncase, lighted it and rose.  Yawning, and stretching his arms above his\nhead, he turned slowly toward the opposite end of the tent.  The face\nof Achmet Zek had disappeared from the opening.\n\nTo say that Albert Werper was terrified would be putting it mildly.  He\nrealized that he not only had sacrificed his treasure; but his life as\nwell.  Achmet Zek would never permit the wealth that he had discovered\nto slip through his fingers, nor would he forgive the duplicity of a\nlieutenant who had gained possession of such a treasure without\noffering to share it with his chief.\n\nSlowly the Belgian prepared for bed.  If he were being watched, he\ncould not know; but if so the watcher saw no indication of the nervous\nexcitement which the European strove to conceal.  When ready for his\nblankets, the man crossed to the little table and extinguished the\nlight.\n\nIt was two hours later that the flaps at the front of the tent\nseparated silently and gave entrance to a dark-robed figure, which\npassed noiselessly from the darkness without to the darkness within.\nCautiously the prowler crossed the interior.  In one hand was a long\nknife.  He came at last to the pile of blankets spread upon several\nrugs close to one of the tent walls.\n\nLightly, his fingers sought and found the bulk beneath the\nblankets--the bulk that should be Albert Werper.  They traced out the\nfigure of a man, and then an arm shot upward, poised for an instant and\ndescended.  Again and again it rose and fell, and each time the long\nblade of the knife buried itself in the thing beneath the blankets.\nBut there was an initial lifelessness in the silent bulk that gave the\nassassin momentary wonder.  Feverishly he threw back the coverlets, and\nsearched with nervous hands for the pouch of jewels which he expected\nto find concealed upon his victim's body.\n\nAn instant later he rose with a curse upon his lips.  It was Achmet\nZek, and he cursed because he had discovered beneath the blankets of\nhis lieutenant only a pile of discarded clothing arranged in the form\nand semblance of a sleeping man--Albert Werper had fled.\n\nOut into the village ran the chief, calling in angry tones to the\nsleepy Arabs, who tumbled from their tents in answer to his voice.  But\nthough they searched the village again and again they found no trace of\nthe Belgian.  Foaming with anger, Achmet Zek called his followers to\nhorse, and though the night was pitchy black they set out to scour the\nadjoining forest for their quarry.\n\nAs they galloped from the open gates, Mugambi, hiding in a nearby bush,\nslipped, unseen, within the palisade.  A score of blacks crowded about\nthe entrance to watch the searchers depart, and as the last of them\npassed out of the village the blacks seized the portals and drew them\nto, and Mugambi lent a hand in the work as though the best of his life\nhad been spent among the raiders.\n\nIn the darkness he passed, unchallenged, as one of their number, and as\nthey returned from the gates to their respective tents and huts,\nMugambi melted into the shadows and disappeared.\n\nFor an hour he crept about in the rear of the various huts and tents in\nan effort to locate that in which his master's mate was imprisoned.\nOne there was which he was reasonably assured contained her, for it was\nthe only hut before the door of which a sentry had been posted.\nMugambi was crouching in the shadow of this structure, just around the\ncorner from the unsuspecting guard, when another approached to relieve\nhis comrade.\n\n\"The prisoner is safe within?\" asked the newcomer.\n\n\"She is,\" replied the other, \"for none has passed this doorway since I\ncame.\"\n\nThe new sentry squatted beside the door, while he whom he had relieved\nmade his way to his own hut.  Mugambi slunk closer to the corner of the\nbuilding.  In one powerful hand he gripped a heavy knob-stick.  No sign\nof elation disturbed his phlegmatic calm, yet inwardly he was aroused\nto joy by the proof he had just heard that \"Lady\" really was within.\n\nThe sentry's back was toward the corner of the hut which hid the giant\nblack.  The fellow did not see the huge form which silently loomed\nbehind him.  The knob-stick swung upward in a curve, and downward\nagain.  There was the sound of a dull thud, the crushing of heavy bone,\nand the sentry slumped into a silent, inanimate lump of clay.\n\nA moment later Mugambi was searching the interior of the hut.  At first\nslowly, calling, \"Lady!\" in a low whisper, and finally with almost\nfrantic haste, until the truth presently dawned upon him--the hut was\nempty!\n\n\n\n\n11\n\nTarzan Becomes a Beast Again\n\n\nFor a moment Werper had stood above the sleeping ape-man, his murderous\nknife poised for the fatal thrust; but fear stayed his hand.  What if\nthe first blow should fail to drive the point to his victim's heart?\nWerper shuddered in contemplation of the disastrous consequences to\nhimself.  Awakened, and even with a few moments of life remaining, the\ngiant could literally tear his assailant to pieces should he choose,\nand the Belgian had no doubt but that Tarzan would so choose.\n\nAgain came the soft sound of padded footsteps in the reeds--closer this\ntime.  Werper abandoned his design.  Before him stretched the wide\nplain and escape.  The jewels were in his possession.  To remain longer\nwas to risk death at the hands of Tarzan, or the jaws of the hunter\ncreeping ever nearer.  Turning, he slunk away through the night, toward\nthe distant forest.\n\nTarzan slept on.  Where were those uncanny, guardian powers that had\nformerly rendered him immune from the dangers of surprise?  Could this\ndull sleeper be the alert, sensitive Tarzan of old?\n\nPerhaps the blow upon his head had numbed his senses, temporarily--who\nmay say?  Closer crept the stealthy creature through the reeds.  The\nrustling curtain of vegetation parted a few paces from where the\nsleeper lay, and the massive head of a lion appeared.  The beast\nsurveyed the ape-man intently for a moment, then he crouched, his hind\nfeet drawn well beneath him, his tail lashing from side to side.\n\nIt was the beating of the beast's tail against the reeds which awakened\nTarzan.  Jungle folk do not awaken slowly--instantly, full\nconsciousness and full command of their every faculty returns to them\nfrom the depth of profound slumber.\n\nEven as Tarzan opened his eyes he was upon his feet, his spear grasped\nfirmly in his hand and ready for attack.  Again was he Tarzan of the\nApes, sentient, vigilant, ready.\n\nNo two lions have identical characteristics, nor does the same lion\ninvariably act similarly under like circumstances.  Whether it was\nsurprise, fear or caution which prompted the lion crouching ready to\nspring upon the man, is immaterial--the fact remains that he did not\ncarry out his original design, he did not spring at the man at all,\nbut, instead, wheeled and sprang back into the reeds as Tarzan arose\nand confronted him.\n\nThe ape-man shrugged his broad shoulders and looked about for his\ncompanion.  Werper was nowhere to be seen.  At first Tarzan suspected\nthat the man had been seized and dragged off by another lion, but upon\nexamination of the ground he soon discovered that the Belgian had gone\naway alone out into the plain.\n\nFor a moment he was puzzled; but presently came to the conclusion that\nWerper had been frightened by the approach of the lion, and had sneaked\noff in terror.  A sneer touched Tarzan's lips as he pondered the man's\nact--the desertion of a comrade in time of danger, and without warning.\nWell, if that was the sort of creature Werper was, Tarzan wished\nnothing more of him.  He had gone, and for all the ape-man cared, he\nmight remain away--Tarzan would not search for him.\n\nA hundred yards from where he stood grew a large tree, alone upon the\nedge of the reedy jungle.  Tarzan made his way to it, clambered into\nit, and finding a comfortable crotch among its branches, reposed\nhimself for uninterrupted sleep until morning.\n\nAnd when morning came Tarzan slept on long after the sun had risen.\nHis mind, reverted to the primitive, was untroubled by any more serious\nobligations than those of providing sustenance, and safeguarding his\nlife.  Therefore, there was nothing to awaken for until danger\nthreatened, or the pangs of hunger assailed.  It was the latter which\neventually aroused him.\n\nOpening his eyes, he stretched his giant thews, yawned, rose and gazed\nabout him through the leafy foliage of his retreat.  Across the wasted\nmeadowlands and fields of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, Tarzan of the\nApes looked, as a stranger, upon the moving figures of Basuli and his\nbraves as they prepared their morning meal and made ready to set out\nupon the expedition which Basuli had planned after discovering the\nhavoc and disaster which had befallen the estate of his dead master.\n\nThe ape-man eyed the blacks with curiosity.  In the back of his brain\nloitered a fleeting sense of familiarity with all that he saw, yet he\ncould not connect any of the various forms of life, animate and\ninanimate, which had fallen within the range of his vision since he had\nemerged from the darkness of the pits of Opar, with any particular\nevent of the past.\n\nHazily he recalled a grim and hideous form, hairy, ferocious.  A vague\ntenderness dominated his savage sentiments as this phantom memory\nstruggled for recognition.  His mind had reverted to his childhood\ndays--it was the figure of the giant she-ape, Kala, that he saw; but\nonly half recognized.  He saw, too, other grotesque, manlike forms.\nThey were of Terkoz, Tublat, Kerchak, and a smaller, less ferocious\nfigure, that was Neeta, the little playmate of his boyhood.\n\nSlowly, very slowly, as these visions of the past animated his\nlethargic memory, he came to recognize them.  They took definite shape\nand form, adjusting themselves nicely to the various incidents of his\nlife with which they had been intimately connected.  His boyhood among\nthe apes spread itself in a slow panorama before him, and as it\nunfolded it induced within him a mighty longing for the companionship\nof the shaggy, low-browed brutes of his past.\n\nHe watched the blacks scatter their cook fire and depart; but though\nthe face of each of them had but recently been as familiar to him as\nhis own, they awakened within him no recollections whatsoever.\n\nWhen they had gone, he descended from the tree and sought food.  Out\nupon the plain grazed numerous herds of wild ruminants.  Toward a\nsleek, fat bunch of zebra he wormed his stealthy way.  No intricate\nprocess of reasoning caused him to circle widely until he was down wind\nfrom his prey--he acted instinctively.  He took advantage of every form\nof cover as he crawled upon all fours and often flat upon his stomach\ntoward them.\n\nA plump young mare and a fat stallion grazed nearest to him as he\nneared the herd.  Again it was instinct which selected the former for\nhis meat.  A low bush grew but a few yards from the unsuspecting two.\nThe ape-man reached its shelter.  He gathered his spear firmly in his\ngrasp.  Cautiously he drew his feet beneath him.  In a single swift\nmove he rose and cast his heavy weapon at the mare's side.  Nor did he\nwait to note the effect of his assault, but leaped cat-like after his\nspear, his hunting knife in his hand.\n\nFor an instant the two animals stood motionless.  The tearing of the\ncruel barb into her side brought a sudden scream of pain and fright\nfrom the mare, and then they both wheeled and broke for safety; but\nTarzan of the Apes, for a distance of a few yards, could equal the\nspeed of even these, and the first stride of the mare found her\noverhauled, with a savage beast at her shoulder.  She turned, biting\nand kicking at her foe.  Her mate hesitated for an instant, as though\nabout to rush to her assistance; but a backward glance revealed to him\nthe flying heels of the balance of the herd, and with a snort and a\nshake of his head he wheeled and dashed away.\n\nClinging with one hand to the short mane of his quarry, Tarzan struck\nagain and again with his knife at the unprotected heart.  The result\nhad, from the first, been inevitable.  The mare fought bravely, but\nhopelessly, and presently sank to the earth, her heart pierced.  The\nape-man placed a foot upon her carcass and raised his voice in the\nvictory call of the Mangani.  In the distance, Basuli halted as the\nfaint notes of the hideous scream broke upon his ears.\n\n\"The great apes,\" he said to his companion.  \"It has been long since I\nhave heard them in the country of the Waziri.  What could have brought\nthem back?\"\n\nTarzan grasped his kill and dragged it to the partial seclusion of the\nbush which had hidden his own near approach, and there he squatted upon\nit, cut a huge hunk of flesh from the loin and proceeded to satisfy his\nhunger with the warm and dripping meat.\n\nAttracted by the shrill screams of the mare, a pair of hyenas slunk\npresently into view.  They trotted to a point a few yards from the\ngorging ape-man, and halted.  Tarzan looked up, bared his fighting\nfangs and growled.  The hyenas returned the compliment, and withdrew a\ncouple of paces.  They made no move to attack; but continued to sit at\na respectful distance until Tarzan had concluded his meal.  After the\nape-man had cut a few strips from the carcass to carry with him, he\nwalked slowly off in the direction of the river to quench his thirst.\nHis way lay directly toward the hyenas, nor did he alter his course\nbecause of them.\n\nWith all the lordly majesty of Numa, the lion, he strode straight\ntoward the growling beasts.  For a moment they held their ground,\nbristling and defiant; but only for a moment, and then slunk away to\none side while the indifferent ape-man passed them on his lordly way.\nA moment later they were tearing at the remains of the zebra.\n\nBack to the reeds went Tarzan, and through them toward the river.  A\nherd of buffalo, startled by his approach, rose ready to charge or to\nfly.  A great bull pawed the ground and bellowed as his bloodshot eyes\ndiscovered the intruder; but the ape-man passed across their front as\nthough ignorant of their existence.  The bull's bellowing lessened to a\nlow rumbling, he turned and scraped a horde of flies from his side with\nhis muzzle, cast a final glance at the ape-man and resumed his feeding.\nHis numerous family either followed his example or stood gazing after\nTarzan in mild-eyed curiosity, until the opposite reeds swallowed him\nfrom view.\n\nAt the river, Tarzan drank his fill and bathed.  During the heat of the\nday he lay up under the shade of a tree near the ruins of his burned\nbarns.  His eyes wandered out across the plain toward the forest, and a\nlonging for the pleasures of its mysterious depths possessed his\nthoughts for a considerable time.  With the next sun he would cross the\nopen and enter the forest!  There was no hurry--there lay before him an\nendless vista of tomorrows with naught to fill them but the satisfying\nof the appetites and caprices of the moment.\n\nThe ape-man's mind was untroubled by regret for the past, or aspiration\nfor the future.  He could lie at full length along a swaying branch,\nstretching his giant limbs, and luxuriating in the blessed peace of\nutter thoughtlessness, without an apprehension or a worry to sap his\nnervous energy and rob him of his peace of mind.  Recalling only dimly\nany other existence, the ape-man was happy.  Lord Greystoke had ceased\nto exist.\n\nFor several hours Tarzan lolled upon his swaying, leafy couch until\nonce again hunger and thirst suggested an excursion.  Stretching lazily\nhe dropped to the ground and moved slowly toward the river.  The game\ntrail down which he walked had become by ages of use a deep, narrow\ntrench, its walls topped on either side by impenetrable thicket and\ndense-growing trees closely interwoven with thick-stemmed creepers and\nlesser vines inextricably matted into two solid ramparts of vegetation.\nTarzan had almost reached the point where the trail debouched upon the\nopen river bottom when he saw a family of lions approaching along the\npath from the direction of the river.  The ape-man counted seven--a\nmale and two lionesses, full grown, and four young lions as large and\nquite as formidable as their parents.  Tarzan halted, growling, and the\nlions paused, the great male in the lead baring his fangs and rumbling\nforth a warning roar.  In his hand the ape-man held his heavy spear;\nbut he had no intention of pitting his puny weapon against seven lions;\nyet he stood there growling and roaring and the lions did likewise.  It\nwas purely an exhibition of jungle bluff.  Each was trying to frighten\noff the other.  Neither wished to turn back and give way, nor did\neither at first desire to precipitate an encounter.  The lions were fed\nsufficiently so as not to be goaded by pangs of hunger and as for\nTarzan he seldom ate the meat of the carnivores; but a point of ethics\nwas at stake and neither side wished to back down.  So they stood there\nfacing one another, making all sorts of hideous noises the while they\nhurled jungle invective back and forth.  How long this bloodless duel\nwould have persisted it is difficult to say, though eventually Tarzan\nwould have been forced to yield to superior numbers.\n\nThere came, however, an interruption which put an end to the deadlock\nand it came from Tarzan's rear.  He and the lions had been making so\nmuch noise that neither could hear anything above their concerted\nbedlam, and so it was that Tarzan did not hear the great bulk bearing\ndown upon him from behind until an instant before it was upon him, and\nthen he turned to see Buto, the rhinoceros, his little, pig eyes\nblazing, charging madly toward him and already so close that escape\nseemed impossible; yet so perfectly were mind and muscles coordinated\nin this unspoiled, primitive man that almost simultaneously with the\nsense perception of the threatened danger he wheeled and hurled his\nspear at Buto's chest.  It was a heavy spear shod with iron, and behind\nit were the giant muscles of the ape-man, while coming to meet it was\nthe enormous weight of Buto and the momentum of his rapid rush.  All\nthat happened in the instant that Tarzan turned to meet the charge of\nthe irascible rhinoceros might take long to tell, and yet would have\ntaxed the swiftest lens to record.  As his spear left his hand the\nape-man was looking down upon the mighty horn lowered to toss him, so\nclose was Buto to him.  The spear entered the rhinoceros' neck at its\njunction with the left shoulder and passed almost entirely through the\nbeast's body, and at the instant that he launched it, Tarzan leaped\nstraight into the air alighting upon Buto's back but escaping the\nmighty horn.\n\nThen Buto espied the lions and bore madly down upon them while Tarzan\nof the Apes leaped nimbly into the tangled creepers at one side of the\ntrail.  The first lion met Buto's charge and was tossed high over the\nback of the maddened brute, torn and dying, and then the six remaining\nlions were upon the rhinoceros, rending and tearing the while they were\nbeing gored or trampled.  From the safety of his perch Tarzan watched\nthe royal battle with the keenest interest, for the more intelligent of\nthe jungle folk are interested in such encounters.  They are to them\nwhat the racetrack and the prize ring, the theater and the movies are\nto us. They see them often; but always they enjoy them for no two are\nprecisely alike.\n\nFor a time it seemed to Tarzan that Buto, the rhinoceros, would prove\nvictor in the gory battle.  Already had he accounted for four of the\nseven lions and badly wounded the three remaining when in a momentary\nlull in the encounter he sank limply to his knees and rolled over upon\nhis side.  Tarzan's spear had done its work.  It was the man-made\nweapon which killed the great beast that might easily have survived the\nassault of seven mighty lions, for Tarzan's spear had pierced the great\nlungs, and Buto, with victory almost in sight, succumbed to internal\nhemorrhage.\n\nThen Tarzan came down from his sanctuary and as the wounded lions,\ngrowling, dragged themselves away, the ape-man cut his spear from the\nbody of Buto, hacked off a steak and vanished into the jungle.  The\nepisode was over.  It had been all in the day's work--something which\nyou and I might talk about for a lifetime Tarzan dismissed from his\nmind the moment that the scene passed from his sight.\n\n\n\n\n12\n\nLa Seeks Vengeance\n\n\nSwinging back through the jungle in a wide circle the ape-man came to\nthe river at another point, drank and took to the trees again and while\nhe hunted, all oblivious of his past and careless of his future, there\ncame through the dark jungles and the open, parklike places and across\nthe wide meadows, where grazed the countless herbivora of the\nmysterious continent, a weird and terrible caravan in search of him.\nThere were fifty frightful men with hairy bodies and gnarled and\ncrooked legs.  They were armed with knives and great bludgeons and at\ntheir head marched an almost naked woman, beautiful beyond compare.  It\nwas La of Opar, High Priestess of the Flaming God, and fifty of her\nhorrid priests searching for the purloiner of the sacred sacrificial\nknife.\n\nNever before had La passed beyond the crumbling outer walls of Opar;\nbut never before had need been so insistent.  The sacred knife was\ngone!  Handed down through countless ages it had come to her as a\nheritage and an insignia of her religious office and regal authority\nfrom some long-dead progenitor of lost and forgotten Atlantis.  The\nloss of the crown jewels or the Great Seal of England could have\nbrought no greater consternation to a British king than did the\npilfering of the sacred knife bring to La, the Oparian, Queen and High\nPriestess of the degraded remnants of the oldest civilization upon\nearth.  When Atlantis, with all her mighty cities and her cultivated\nfields and her great commerce and culture and riches sank into the sea\nlong ages since, she took with her all but a handful of her colonists\nworking the vast gold mines of Central Africa.  From these and their\ndegraded slaves and a later intermixture of the blood of the\nanthropoids sprung the gnarled men of Opar; but by some queer freak of\nfate, aided by natural selection, the old Atlantean strain had remained\npure and undegraded in the females descended from a single princess of\nthe royal house of Atlantis who had been in Opar at the time of the\ngreat catastrophe.  Such was La.\n\nBurning with white-hot anger was the High Priestess, her heart a\nseething, molten mass of hatred for Tarzan of the Apes.  The zeal of\nthe religious fanatic whose altar has been desecrated was triply\nenhanced by the rage of a woman scorned.  Twice had she thrown her\nheart at the feet of the godlike ape-man and twice had she been\nrepulsed.  La knew that she was beautiful--and she was beautiful, not\nby the standards of prehistoric Atlantis alone, but by those of modern\ntimes was La physically a creature of perfection.  Before Tarzan came\nthat first time to Opar, La had never seen a human male other than the\ngrotesque and knotted men of her clan.  With one of these she must mate\nsooner or later that the direct line of high priestesses might not be\nbroken, unless Fate should bring other men to Opar.  Before Tarzan came\nupon his first visit, La had had no thought that such men as he\nexisted, for she knew only her hideous little priests and the bulls of\nthe tribe of great anthropoids that had dwelt from time immemorial in\nand about Opar, until they had come to be looked upon almost as equals\nby the Oparians.  Among the legends of Opar were tales of godlike men\nof the olden time and of black men who had come more recently; but\nthese latter had been enemies who killed and robbed.  And, too, these\nlegends always held forth the hope that some day that nameless\ncontinent from which their race had sprung, would rise once more out of\nthe sea and with slaves at the long sweeps would send her carven,\ngold-picked galleys forth to succor the long-exiled colonists.\n\nThe coming of Tarzan had aroused within La's breast the wild hope that\nat last the fulfillment of this ancient prophecy was at hand; but more\nstrongly still had it aroused the hot fires of love in a heart that\nnever otherwise would have known the meaning of that all-consuming\npassion, for such a wondrous creature as La could never have felt love\nfor any of the repulsive priests of Opar.  Custom, duty and religious\nzeal might have commanded the union; but there could have been no love\non La's part.  She had grown to young womanhood a cold and heartless\ncreature, daughter of a thousand other cold, heartless, beautiful women\nwho had never known love.  And so when love came to her it liberated\nall the pent passions of a thousand generations, transforming La into a\npulsing, throbbing volcano of desire, and with desire thwarted this\ngreat force of love and gentleness and sacrifice was transmuted by its\nown fires into one of hatred and revenge.\n\nIt was in a state of mind superinduced by these conditions that La led\nforth her jabbering company to retrieve the sacred emblem of her high\noffice and wreak vengeance upon the author of her wrongs.  To Werper\nshe gave little thought.  The fact that the knife had been in his hand\nwhen it departed from Opar brought down no thoughts of vengeance upon\nhis head.  Of course, he should be slain when captured; but his death\nwould give La no pleasure--she looked for that in the contemplated\ndeath agonies of Tarzan.  He should be tortured.  His should be a slow\nand frightful death.  His punishment should be adequate to the\nimmensity of his crime.  He had wrested the sacred knife from La; he\nhad lain sacrilegious hands upon the High Priestess of the Flaming God;\nhe had desecrated the altar and the temple.  For these things he should\ndie; but he had scorned the love of La, the woman, and for this he\nshould die horribly with great anguish.\n\nThe march of La and her priests was not without its adventures.  Unused\nwere these to the ways of the jungle, since seldom did any venture\nforth from behind Opar's crumbling walls, yet their very numbers\nprotected them and so they came without fatalities far along the trail\nof Tarzan and Werper.  Three great apes accompanied them and to these\nwas delegated the business of tracking the quarry, a feat beyond the\nsenses of the Oparians.  La commanded.  She arranged the order of\nmarch, she selected the camps, she set the hour for halting and the\nhour for resuming and though she was inexperienced in such matters, her\nnative intelligence was so far above that of the men or the apes that\nshe did better than they could have done.  She was a hard taskmaster,\ntoo, for she looked down with loathing and contempt upon the misshapen\ncreatures amongst which cruel Fate had thrown her and to some extent\nvented upon them her dissatisfaction and her thwarted love.  She made\nthem build her a strong protection and shelter each night and keep a\ngreat fire burning before it from dusk to dawn.  When she tired of\nwalking they were forced to carry her upon an improvised litter, nor\ndid one dare to question her authority or her right to such services.\nIn fact they did not question either.  To them she was a goddess and\neach loved her and each hoped that he would be chosen as her mate, so\nthey slaved for her and bore the stinging lash of her displeasure and\nthe habitually haughty disdain of her manner without a murmur.\n\nFor many days they marched, the apes following the trail easily and\ngoing a little distance ahead of the body of the caravan that they\nmight warn the others of impending danger.  It was during a noonday\nhalt while all were lying resting after a tiresome march that one of\nthe apes rose suddenly and sniffed the breeze.  In a low guttural he\ncautioned the others to silence and a moment later was swinging quietly\nup wind into the jungle.  La and the priests gathered silently\ntogether, the hideous little men fingering their knives and bludgeons,\nand awaited the return of the shaggy anthropoid.\n\nNor had they long to wait before they saw him emerge from a leafy\nthicket and approach them.  Straight to La he came and in the language\nof the great apes which was also the language of decadent Opar he\naddressed her.\n\n\"The great Tarmangani lies asleep there,\" he said, pointing in the\ndirection from which he had just come.  \"Come and we can kill him.\"\n\n\"Do not kill him,\" commanded La in cold tones.  \"Bring the great\nTarmangani to me alive and unhurt.  The vengeance is La's.  Go; but\nmake no sound!\" and she waved her hands to include all her followers.\n\nCautiously the weird party crept through the jungle in the wake of the\ngreat ape until at last he halted them with a raised hand and pointed\nupward and a little ahead.  There they saw the giant form of the\nape-man stretched along a low bough and even in sleep one hand grasped\na stout limb and one strong, brown leg reached out and overlapped\nanother.  At ease lay Tarzan of the Apes, sleeping heavily upon a full\nstomach and dreaming of Numa, the lion, and Horta, the boar, and other\ncreatures of the jungle.  No intimation of danger assailed the dormant\nfaculties of the ape-man--he saw no crouching hairy figures upon the\nground beneath him nor the three apes that swung quietly into the  tree\nbeside him.\n\nThe first intimation of danger that came to Tarzan was the impact of\nthree bodies as the three apes leaped upon him and hurled him to the\nground, where he alighted half stunned beneath their combined weight\nand was immediately set upon by the fifty hairy men or as many of them\nas could swarm upon his person.  Instantly the ape-man became the\ncenter of a whirling, striking, biting maelstrom of horror.  He fought\nnobly but the odds against him were too great.  Slowly they overcame\nhim though there was scarce one of them that did not feel the weight of\nhis mighty fist or the rending of his fangs.\n\n\n\n\n13\n\nCondemned To Torture and Death\n\n\nLa had followed her company and when she saw them clawing and biting at\nTarzan, she raised her voice and cautioned them not to kill him.  She\nsaw that he was weakening and that soon the greater numbers would\nprevail over him, nor had she long to wait before the mighty jungle\ncreature lay helpless and bound at her feet.\n\n\"Bring him to the place at which we stopped,\" she commanded and they\ncarried Tarzan back to the little clearing and threw him down beneath a\ntree.\n\n\"Build me a shelter!\" ordered La.  \"We shall stop here tonight and\ntomorrow in the face of the Flaming God, La will offer up the heart of\nthis defiler of the temple.  Where is the sacred knife?  Who took it\nfrom him?\"\n\nBut no one had seen it and each was positive in his assurance that the\nsacrificial weapon had not been upon Tarzan's person when they captured\nhim.  The ape-man looked upon the menacing creatures which surrounded\nhim and snarled his defiance.  He looked upon La and smiled.  In the\nface of death he was unafraid.\n\n\"Where is the knife?\" La asked him.\n\n\"I do not know,\" replied Tarzan.  \"The man took it with him when he\nslipped away during the night.  Since you are so desirous for its\nreturn I would look for him and get it back for you, did you not hold\nme prisoner; but now that I am to die I cannot get it back.  Of what\ngood was your knife, anyway?  You can make another.  Did you follow us\nall this way for nothing more than a knife?  Let me go and find him and\nI will bring it back to you.\"\n\nLa laughed a bitter laugh, for in her heart she knew that Tarzan's sin\nwas greater than the purloining of the sacrificial knife of Opar; yet\nas she looked at him lying bound and helpless before her, tears rose to\nher eyes so that she had to turn away to hide them; but she remained\ninflexible in her determination to make him pay in frightful suffering\nand in eventual death for daring to spurn the love of La.\n\nWhen the shelter was completed La had Tarzan transferred to it.  \"All\nnight I shall torture him,\" she muttered to her priests, \"and at the\nfirst streak of dawn you may prepare the flaming altar upon which his\nheart shall be offered up to the Flaming God.  Gather wood well filled\nwith pitch, lay it in the form and size of the altar at Opar in the\ncenter of the clearing that the Flaming God may look down upon our\nhandiwork and be pleased.\"\n\nDuring the balance of the day the priests of Opar were busy erecting an\naltar in the center of the clearing, and while they worked they chanted\nweird hymns in the ancient tongue of that lost continent that lies at\nthe bottom of the Atlantic.  They knew not the meanings of the words\nthey mouthed; they but repeated the ritual that had been handed down\nfrom preceptor to neophyte since that long-gone day when the ancestors\nof the Piltdown man still swung by their tails in the humid jungles\nthat are England now.\n\nAnd in the shelter of the hut, La paced to and fro beside the stoic\nape-man.  Resigned to his fate was Tarzan.  No hope of succor gleamed\nthrough the dead black of the death sentence hanging over him.  He knew\nthat his giant muscles could not part the many strands that bound his\nwrists and ankles, for he had strained often, but ineffectually for\nrelease.  He had no hope of outside help and only enemies surrounded\nhim within the camp, and yet he smiled at La as she paced nervously\nback and forth the length of the shelter.\n\nAnd La?  She fingered her knife and looked down upon her captive.  She\nglared and muttered but she did not strike.  \"Tonight!\" she thought.\n\"Tonight, when it is dark I will torture him.\" She looked upon his\nperfect, godlike figure and upon his handsome, smiling face and then\nshe steeled her heart again by thoughts of her love spurned; by\nreligious thoughts that damned the infidel who had desecrated the holy\nof holies; who had taken from the blood-stained altar of Opar the\noffering to the Flaming God--and not once but thrice.  Three times had\nTarzan cheated the god of her fathers.  At the thought La paused and\nknelt at his side.  In her hand was a sharp knife.  She placed its\npoint against the ape-man's side and pressed upon the hilt; but Tarzan\nonly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.\n\nHow beautiful he was!  La bent low over him, looking into his eyes.\nHow perfect was his figure.  She compared it with those of the knurled\nand knotted men from whom she must choose a mate, and La shuddered at\nthe thought.  Dusk came and after dusk came night.  A great fire blazed\nwithin the little thorn boma about the camp.  The flames played upon\nthe new altar erected in the center of the clearing, arousing in the\nmind of the High Priestess of the Flaming God a picture of the event of\nthe coming dawn.  She saw this giant and perfect form writhing amid the\nflames of the burning pyre.  She saw those smiling lips, burned and\nblackened, falling away from the strong, white teeth.  She saw the\nshock of black hair tousled upon Tarzan's well-shaped head disappear in\na spurt of flame.  She saw these and many other frightful pictures as\nshe stood with closed eyes and clenched fists above the object of her\nhate--ah!  was it hate that La of Opar felt?\n\nThe darkness of the jungle night had settled down upon the camp,\nrelieved only by the fitful flarings of the fire that was kept up to\nwarn off the man-eaters.  Tarzan lay quietly in his bonds.  He suffered\nfrom thirst and from the cutting of the tight strands about his wrists\nand ankles; but he made no complaint.  A jungle beast was Tarzan with\nthe stoicism of the beast and the intelligence of man.  He knew that\nhis doom was sealed--that no supplications would avail to temper the\nseverity of his end and so he wasted no breath in pleadings; but waited\npatiently in the firm conviction that his sufferings could not endure\nforever.\n\nIn the darkness La stooped above him.  In her hand was a sharp knife\nand in her mind the determination to initiate his torture without\nfurther delay.  The knife was pressed against his side and La's face\nwas close to his when a sudden burst of flame from new branches thrown\nupon the fire without, lighted up the interior of the shelter.  Close\nbeneath her lips La saw the perfect features of the forest god and into\nher woman's heart welled all the great love she had felt for Tarzan\nsince first she had seen him, and all the accumulated passion of the\nyears that she had dreamed of him.\n\nDagger in hand, La, the High Priestess, towered above the helpless\ncreature that had dared to violate the sanctuary of her deity.  There\nshould be no torture--there should be instant death.  No longer should\nthe defiler of the temple pollute the sight of the lord god almighty.\nA single stroke of the heavy blade and then the corpse to the flaming\npyre without.  The knife arm stiffened ready for the downward plunge,\nand then La, the woman, collapsed weakly upon the body of the man she\nloved.\n\nShe ran her hands in mute caress over his naked flesh; she covered his\nforehead, his eyes, his lips with hot kisses; she covered him with her\nbody as though to protect him from the hideous fate she had ordained\nfor him, and in trembling, piteous tones she begged him for his love.\nFor hours the frenzy of her passion possessed the burning hand-maiden\nof the Flaming God, until at last sleep overpowered her and she lapsed\ninto unconsciousness beside the man she had sworn to torture and to\nslay.  And Tarzan, untroubled by thoughts of the future, slept\npeacefully in La's embrace.\n\nAt the first hint of dawn the chanting of the priests of Opar brought\nTarzan to wakefulness.  Initiated in low and subdued tones, the sound\nsoon rose in volume to the open diapason of barbaric blood lust.  La\nstirred.  Her perfect arm pressed Tarzan closer to her--a smile parted\nher lips and then she awoke, and slowly the smile faded and her eyes\nwent wide in horror as the significance of the death chant impinged\nupon her understanding.\n\n\"Love me, Tarzan!\" she cried.  \"Love me, and you shall be saved.\"\n\nTarzan's bonds hurt him.  He was suffering the tortures of\nlong-restricted circulation.  With an angry growl he rolled over with\nhis back toward La.  That was her answer!  The High Priestess leaped to\nher feet.  A hot flush of shame mantled her cheek and then she went\ndead white and stepped to the shelter's entrance.\n\n\"Come, Priests of the Flaming God!\" she cried, \"and make ready the\nsacrifice.\"\n\nThe warped things advanced and entered the shelter.  They laid hands\nupon Tarzan and bore him forth, and as they chanted they kept time with\ntheir crooked bodies, swaying to and fro to the rhythm of their song of\nblood and death.  Behind them came La, swaying too; but not in unison\nwith the chanted cadence.  White and drawn was the face of the High\nPriestess--white and drawn with unrequited love and hideous terror of\nthe moments to come.  Yet stern in her resolve was La.  The infidel\nshould die!  The scorner of her love should pay the price upon the\nfiery altar.  She saw them lay the perfect body there upon the rough\nbranches.  She saw the High Priest, he to whom custom would unite\nher--bent, crooked, gnarled, stunted, hideous--advance with the flaming\ntorch and stand awaiting her command to apply it to the faggots\nsurrounding the sacrificial pyre.  His hairy, bestial face was\ndistorted in a yellow-fanged grin of anticipatory enjoyment.  His hands\nwere cupped to receive the life blood of the victim--the red nectar\nthat at Opar would have filled the golden sacrificial goblets.\n\nLa approached with upraised knife, her face turned toward the rising\nsun and upon her lips a prayer to the burning deity of her people.  The\nHigh Priest looked questioningly toward her--the brand was burning\nclose to his hand and the faggots lay temptingly near.  Tarzan closed\nhis eyes and awaited the end.  He knew that he would suffer, for he\nrecalled the faint memories of past burns.  He knew that he would\nsuffer and die; but he did not flinch.  Death is no great adventure to\nthe jungle bred who walk hand-in-hand with the grim specter by day and\nlie down at his side by night through all the years of their lives.  It\nis doubtful that the ape-man even speculated upon what came after\ndeath.  As a matter of fact as his end approached, his mind was\noccupied by thoughts of the pretty pebbles he had lost, yet his every\nfaculty still was open to what passed around him.\n\nHe felt La lean over him and he opened his eyes.  He saw her white,\ndrawn face and he saw tears blinding her eyes.  \"Tarzan, my Tarzan!\"\nshe moaned, \"tell me that you love me--that you will return to Opar\nwith me--and you shall live.  Even in the face of the anger of my\npeople I will save you.  This last chance I give you.  What is your\nanswer?\"\n\nAt the last moment the woman in La had triumphed over the High\nPriestess of a cruel cult.  She saw upon the altar the only creature\nthat ever had aroused the fires of love within her virgin breast; she\nsaw the beast-faced fanatic who would one day be her mate, unless she\nfound another less repulsive, standing with the burning torch ready to\nignite the pyre; yet with all her mad passion for the ape-man she would\ngive the word to apply the flame if Tarzan's final answer was\nunsatisfactory.  With heaving bosom she leaned close above him.  \"Yes\nor no?\" she whispered.\n\nThrough the jungle, out of the distance, came faintly a sound that\nbrought a sudden light of hope to Tarzan's eyes.  He raised his voice\nin a weird scream that sent La back from him a step or two.  The\nimpatient priest grumbled and switched the torch from one hand to the\nother at the same time holding it closer to the tinder at the base of\nthe pyre.\n\n\"Your answer!\" insisted La.  \"What is your answer to the love of La of\nOpar?\"\n\nCloser came the sound that had attracted Tarzan's attention and now the\nothers heard it--the shrill trumpeting of an elephant.  As La looked\nwide-eyed into Tarzan's face, there to read her fate for happiness or\nheartbreak, she saw an expression of concern shadow his features.  Now,\nfor the first time, she guessed the meaning of Tarzan's shrill\nscream--he had summoned Tantor, the elephant, to his rescue!  La's\nbrows contracted in a savage scowl.  \"You refuse La!\" she cried.  \"Then\ndie!  The torch!\" she commanded, turning toward the priest.\n\nTarzan looked up into her face.  \"Tantor is coming,\" he said.  \"I\nthought that he would rescue me; but I know now from his voice that he\nwill slay me and you and all that fall in his path, searching out with\nthe cunning of Sheeta, the panther, those who would hide from him, for\nTantor is mad with the madness of love.\"\n\nLa knew only too well the insane ferocity of a bull elephant in MUST.\nShe knew that Tarzan had not exaggerated.  She knew that the devil in\nthe cunning, cruel brain of the great beast might send it hither and\nthither hunting through the forest for those who escaped its first\ncharge, or the beast might pass on without returning--no one might\nguess which.\n\n\"I cannot love you, La,\" said Tarzan in a low voice.  \"I do not know\nwhy, for you are very beautiful.  I could not go back and live in\nOpar--I who have the whole broad jungle for my range.  No, I cannot\nlove you but I cannot see you die beneath the goring tusks of mad\nTantor.  Cut my bonds before it is too late.  Already he is almost upon\nus.  Cut them and I may yet save you.\"\n\nA little spiral of curling smoke rose from one corner of the pyre--the\nflames licked upward, crackling.  La stood there like a beautiful\nstatue of despair gazing at Tarzan and at the spreading flames.  In a\nmoment they would reach out and grasp him.  From the tangled forest\ncame the sound of cracking limbs and crashing trunks--Tantor was coming\ndown upon them, a huge Juggernaut of the jungle.  The priests were\nbecoming uneasy.  They cast apprehensive glances in the direction of\nthe approaching elephant and then back at La.\n\n\"Fly!\" she commanded them and then she stooped and cut the bonds\nsecuring her prisoner's feet and hands.  In an instant Tarzan was upon\nthe ground.  The priests screamed out their rage and disappointment.\nHe with the torch took a menacing step toward La and the ape-man.\n\"Traitor!\" He shrieked at the woman.  \"For this you too shall die!\"\nRaising his bludgeon he rushed upon the High Priestess; but Tarzan was\nthere before her.  Leaping in to close quarters the ape-man seized the\nupraised weapon and wrenched it from the hands of the frenzied fanatic\nand then the priest closed upon him with tooth and nail.  Seizing the\nstocky, stunted body in his mighty hands Tarzan raised the creature\nhigh above his head, hurling him at his fellows who were now gathered\nready to bear down upon their erstwhile captive.  La stood proudly with\nready knife behind the ape-man.  No faint sign of fear marked her\nperfect brow--only haughty disdain for her priests and admiration for\nthe man she loved so hopelessly filled her thoughts.\n\nSuddenly upon this scene burst the mad bull--a huge tusker, his little\neyes inflamed with insane rage.  The priests stood for an instant\nparalyzed with terror; but Tarzan turned and gathering La in his arms\nraced for the nearest tree.  Tantor bore down upon him trumpeting\nshrilly.  La clung with both white arms about the ape-man's neck.  She\nfelt him leap into the air and marveled at his strength and his ability\nas, burdened with her weight, he swung nimbly into the lower branches\nof a large tree and quickly bore her upward beyond reach of the sinuous\ntrunk of the pachyderm.\n\nMomentarily baffled here, the huge elephant wheeled and bore down upon\nthe hapless priests who had now scattered, terror-stricken, in every\ndirection.  The nearest he gored and threw high among the branches of a\ntree.  One he seized in the coils of his trunk and broke upon a huge\nbole, dropping the mangled pulp to charge, trumpeting, after another.\nTwo he trampled beneath his huge feet and by then the others had\ndisappeared into the jungle.  Now Tantor turned his attention once more\nto Tarzan for one of the symptoms of madness is a revulsion of\naffection--objects of sane love become the objects of insane hatred.\nPeculiar in the unwritten annals of the jungle was the proverbial love\nthat had existed between the ape-man and the tribe of Tantor.  No\nelephant in all the jungle would harm the Tarmangani--the white-ape;\nbut with the madness of MUST upon him the great bull sought to destroy\nhis long-time play-fellow.\n\nBack to the tree where La and Tarzan perched came Tantor, the elephant.\nHe reared up with his forefeet against the bole and reached high toward\nthem with his long trunk; but Tarzan had foreseen this and clambered\nbeyond the bull's longest reach.  Failure but tended to further enrage\nthe mad creature.  He bellowed and trumpeted and screamed until the\nearth shook to the mighty volume of his noise.  He put his head against\nthe tree and pushed and the tree bent before his mighty strength; yet\nstill it held.\n\nThe actions of Tarzan were peculiar in the extreme.  Had Numa, or\nSabor, or Sheeta, or any other beast of the jungle been seeking to\ndestroy him, the ape-man would have danced about hurling missiles and\ninvectives at his assailant.  He would have insulted and taunted them,\nreviling in the jungle Billingsgate he knew so well; but now he sat\nsilent out of Tantor's reach and upon his handsome face was an\nexpression of deep sorrow and pity, for of all the jungle folk Tarzan\nloved Tantor the best.  Could he have slain him he would not have\nthought of doing so.  His one idea was to escape, for he knew that with\nthe passing of the MUST Tantor would be sane again and that once more\nhe might stretch at full length upon that mighty back and make foolish\nspeech into those great, flapping ears.\n\nFinding that the tree would not fall to his pushing, Tantor was but\nenraged the more.  He looked up at the two perched high above him, his\nred-rimmed eyes blazing with insane hatred, and then he wound his trunk\nabout the bole of the tree, spread his giant feet wide apart and tugged\nto uproot the jungle giant.  A huge creature was Tantor, an enormous\nbull in the full prime of all his stupendous strength.  Mightily he\nstrove until presently, to Tarzan's consternation, the great tree gave\nslowly at the roots.  The ground rose in little mounds and ridges about\nthe base of the bole, the tree tilted--in another moment it would be\nuprooted and fall.\n\nThe ape-man whirled La to his back and just as the tree inclined slowly\nin its first movement out of the perpendicular, before the sudden rush\nof its final collapse, he swung to the branches of a lesser neighbor.\nIt was a long and perilous leap.  La closed her eyes and shuddered; but\nwhen she opened them again she found herself safe and Tarzan whirling\nonward through the forest.  Behind them the uprooted tree crashed\nheavily to the ground, carrying with it the lesser trees in its path\nand then Tantor, realizing that his prey had escaped him, set up once\nmore his hideous trumpeting and followed at a rapid charge upon their\ntrail.\n\n\n\n\n14\n\nA Priestess But Yet a Woman\n\n\nAt first La closed her eyes and clung to Tarzan in terror, though she\nmade no outcry; but presently she gained sufficient courage to look\nabout her, to look down at the ground beneath and even to keep her eyes\nopen during the wide, perilous swings from tree to tree, and then there\ncame over her a sense of safety because of her confidence in the\nperfect physical creature in whose strength and nerve and agility her\nfate lay.  Once she raised her eyes to the burning sun and murmured a\nprayer of thanks to her pagan god that she had not been permitted to\ndestroy this godlike man, and her long lashes were wet with tears.  A\nstrange anomaly was La of Opar--a creature of circumstance torn by\nconflicting emotions.  Now the cruel and bloodthirsty creature of a\nheartless god and again a melting woman filled with compassion and\ntenderness.  Sometimes the incarnation of jealousy and revenge and\nsometimes a sobbing maiden, generous and forgiving; at once a virgin\nand a wanton; but always--a woman.  Such was La.\n\nShe pressed her cheek close to Tarzan's shoulder.  Slowly she turned\nher head until her hot lips were pressed against his flesh.  She loved\nhim and would gladly have died for him; yet within an hour she had been\nready to plunge a knife into his heart and might again within the\ncoming hour.\n\nA hapless priest seeking shelter in the jungle chanced to show himself\nto enraged Tantor.  The great beast turned to one side, bore down upon\nthe crooked, little man, snuffed him out and then, diverted from his\ncourse, blundered away toward the south.  In a few minutes even the\nnoise of his trumpeting was lost in the distance.\n\nTarzan dropped to the ground and La slipped to her feet from his back.\n\"Call your people together,\" said Tarzan.\n\n\"They will kill me,\" replied La.\n\n\"They will not kill you,\" contradicted the ape-man.  \"No one will kill\nyou while Tarzan of the Apes is here.  Call them and we will talk with\nthem.\"\n\nLa raised her voice in a weird, flutelike call that carried far into\nthe jungle on every side.  From near and far came answering shouts in\nthe barking tones of the Oparian priests: \"We come!  We come!\" Again\nand again, La repeated her summons until singly and in pairs the\ngreater portion of her following approached and halted a short distance\naway from the High Priestess and her savior.  They came with scowling\nbrows and threatening mien.  When all had come Tarzan addressed them.\n\n\"Your La is safe,\" said the ape-man.  \"Had she slain me she would now\nherself be dead and many more of you; but she spared me that I might\nsave her.  Go your way with her back to Opar, and Tarzan will go his\nway into the jungle. Let there be peace always between Tarzan and La.\nWhat is your answer?\"\n\nThe priests grumbled and shook their heads.  They spoke together and La\nand Tarzan could see that they were not favorably inclined toward the\nproposition.  They did not wish to take La back and they did wish to\ncomplete the sacrifice of Tarzan to the Flaming God.  At last the\nape-man became impatient.\n\n\"You will obey the commands of your queen,\" he said, \"and go back to\nOpar with her or Tarzan of the Apes will call together the other\ncreatures of the jungle and slay you all.  La saved me that I might\nsave you and her.  I have served you better alive than I could have\ndead.  If you are not all fools you will let me go my way in peace and\nyou will return to Opar with La.  I know not where the sacred knife is;\nbut you can fashion another.  Had I not taken it from La you would have\nslain me and now your god must be glad that I took it since I have\nsaved his priestess from love-mad Tantor.  Will you go back to Opar\nwith La, promising that no harm shall befall her?\"\n\nThe priests gathered together in a little knot arguing and discussing.\nThey pounded upon their breasts with their fists; they raised their\nhands and eyes to their fiery god; they growled and barked among\nthemselves until it became evident to Tarzan that one of their number\nwas preventing the acceptance of his proposal.  This was the High\nPriest whose heart was filled with jealous rage because La openly\nacknowledged her love for the stranger, when by the worldly customs of\ntheir cult she should have belonged to him. Seemingly there was to be\nno solution of the problem until another priest stepped forth and,\nraising his hand, addressed La.\n\n\"Cadj, the High Priest,\" he announced, \"would sacrifice you both to the\nFlaming God; but all of us except Cadj would gladly return to Opar with\nour queen.\"\n\n\"You are many against one,\" spoke up Tarzan.  \"Why should you not have\nyour will?  Go your way with La to Opar and if Cadj interferes slay\nhim.\"\n\nThe priests of Opar welcomed this suggestion with loud cries of\napproval.  To them it appeared nothing short of divine inspiration.\nThe influence of ages of unquestioning obedience to high priests had\nmade it seem impossible to them to question his authority; but when\nthey realized that they could force him to their will they were as\nhappy as children with new toys.\n\nThey rushed forward and seized Cadj.  They talked in loud menacing\ntones into his ear.  They threatened him with bludgeon and knife until\nat last he acquiesced in their demands, though sullenly, and then\nTarzan stepped close before Cadj.\n\n\"Priest,\" he said, \"La goes back to her temple under the protection of\nher priests and the threat of Tarzan of the Apes that whoever harms her\nshall die.  Tarzan will go again to Opar before the next rains and if\nharm has befallen La, woe betide Cadj, the High Priest.\"\n\nSullenly Cadj promised not to harm his queen.\n\n\"Protect her,\" cried Tarzan to the other Oparians.  \"Protect her so\nthat when Tarzan comes again he will find La there to greet him.\"\n\n\"La will be there to greet thee,\" exclaimed the High Priestess, \"and La\nwill wait, longing, always longing, until you come again.  Oh, tell me\nthat you will come!\"\n\n\"Who knows?\" asked the ape-man as he swung quickly into the trees and\nraced off toward the east.\n\nFor a moment La stood looking after him, then her head drooped, a sigh\nescaped her lips and like an old woman she took up the march toward\ndistant Opar.\n\nThrough the trees raced Tarzan of the Apes until the darkness of night\nhad settled upon the jungle, then he lay down and slept, with no\nthought beyond the morrow and with even La but the shadow of a memory\nwithin his consciousness.\n\nBut a few marches to the north Lady Greystoke looked forward to the day\nwhen her mighty lord and master should discover the crime of Achmet\nZek, and be speeding to rescue and avenge, and even as she pictured the\ncoming of John Clayton, the object of her thoughts squatted almost\nnaked, beside a fallen log, beneath which he was searching with grimy\nfingers for a chance beetle or a luscious grub.\n\nTwo days elapsed following the theft of the jewels before Tarzan gave\nthem a thought.  Then, as they chanced to enter his mind, he conceived\na desire to play with them again, and, having nothing better to do than\nsatisfy the first whim which possessed him, he rose and started across\nthe plain from the forest in which he had spent the preceding day.\n\nThough no mark showed where the gems had been buried, and though the\nspot resembled the balance of an unbroken stretch several miles in\nlength, where the reeds terminated at the edge of the meadowland, yet\nthe ape-man moved with unerring precision directly to the place where\nhe had hid his treasure.\n\nWith his hunting knife he upturned the loose earth, beneath which the\npouch should be; but, though he excavated to a greater distance than\nthe depth of the original hole there was no sign of pouch or jewels.\nTarzan's brow clouded as he discovered that he had been despoiled.\nLittle or no reasoning was required to convince him of the identity of\nthe guilty party, and with the same celerity that had marked his\ndecision to unearth the jewels, he set out upon the trail of the thief.\n\nThough the spoor was two days old, and practically obliterated in many\nplaces, Tarzan followed it with comparative ease.  A white man could\nnot have followed it twenty paces twelve hours after it had been made,\na black man would have lost it within the first mile; but Tarzan of the\nApes had been forced in childhood to develop senses that an ordinary\nmortal scarce ever uses.\n\nWe may note the garlic and whisky on the breath of a fellow strap\nhanger, or the cheap perfume emanating from the person of the wondrous\nlady sitting in front of us, and deplore the fact of our sensitive\nnoses; but, as a matter of fact, we cannot smell at all, our olfactory\norgans are practically atrophied, by comparison with the development of\nthe sense among the beasts of the wild.\n\nWhere a foot is placed an effluvium remains for a considerable time.\nIt is beyond the range of our sensibilities; but to a creature of the\nlower orders, especially to the hunters and the hunted, as interesting\nand ofttimes more lucid than is the printed page to us.\n\nNor was Tarzan dependent alone upon his sense of smell.  Vision and\nhearing had been brought to a marvelous state of development by the\nnecessities of his early life, where survival itself depended almost\ndaily upon the exercise of the keenest vigilance and the constant use\nof all his faculties.\n\nAnd so he followed the old trail of the Belgian through the forest and\ntoward the north; but because of the age of the trail he was\nconstrained to a far from rapid progress.  The man he followed was two\ndays ahead of him when Tarzan took up the pursuit, and each day he\ngained upon the ape-man.  The latter, however, felt not the slightest\ndoubt as to the outcome.  Some day he would overhaul his quarry--he\ncould bide his time in peace until that day dawned.  Doggedly he\nfollowed the faint spoor, pausing by day only to kill and eat, and at\nnight only to sleep and refresh himself.\n\nOccasionally he passed parties of savage warriors; but these he gave a\nwide berth, for he was hunting with a purpose that was not to be\ndistracted by the minor accidents of the trail.\n\nThese parties were of the collecting hordes of the Waziri and their\nallies which Basuli had scattered his messengers broadcast to summon.\nThey were marching to a common rendezvous in preparation for an assault\nupon the stronghold of Achmet Zek; but to Tarzan they were enemies--he\nretained no conscious memory of any friendship for the black men.\n\nIt was night when he halted outside the palisaded village of the Arab\nraider.  Perched in the branches of a great tree he gazed down upon the\nlife within the enclosure.  To this place had the spoor led him.  His\nquarry must be within; but how was he to find him among so many huts?\nTarzan, although cognizant of his mighty powers, realized also his\nlimitations.  He knew that he could not successfully cope with great\nnumbers in open battle.  He must resort to the stealth and trickery of\nthe wild beast, if he were to succeed.\n\nSitting in the safety of his tree, munching upon the leg bone of Horta,\nthe boar, Tarzan waited a favorable opportunity to enter the village.\nFor awhile he gnawed at the bulging, round ends of the large bone,\nsplintering off small pieces between his strong jaws, and sucking at\nthe delicious marrow within; but all the time he cast repeated glances\ninto the village.  He saw white-robed figures, and half-naked blacks;\nbut not once did he see one who resembled the stealer of the gems.\n\nPatiently he waited until the streets were deserted by all save the\nsentries at the gates, then he dropped lightly to the ground, circled\nto the opposite side of the village and approached the palisade.\n\nAt his side hung a long, rawhide rope--a natural and more dependable\nevolution from the grass rope of his childhood. Loosening this, he\nspread the noose upon the ground behind him, and with a quick movement\nof his wrist tossed the coils over one of the sharpened projections of\nthe summit of the palisade.\n\nDrawing the noose taut, he tested the solidity of its hold. Satisfied,\nthe ape-man ran nimbly up the vertical wall, aided by the rope which he\nclutched in both hands.  Once at the top it required but a moment to\ngather the dangling rope once more into its coils, make it fast again\nat his waist, take a quick glance downward within the palisade, and,\nassured that no one lurked directly beneath him, drop softly to the\nground.\n\nNow he was within the village.  Before him stretched a series of tents\nand native huts.  The business of exploring each of them would be\nfraught with danger; but danger was only a natural factor of each day's\nlife--it never appalled Tarzan.  The chances appealed to him--the\nchances of life and death, with his prowess and his faculties pitted\nagainst those of a worthy antagonist.\n\nIt was not necessary that he enter each habitation--through a door, a\nwindow or an open chink, his nose told him whether or not his prey lay\nwithin.  For some time he found one disappointment following upon the\nheels of another in quick succession.  No spoor of the Belgian was\ndiscernible. But at last he came to a tent where the smell of the thief\nwas strong.  Tarzan listened, his ear close to the canvas at the rear,\nbut no sound came from within.\n\nAt last he cut one of the pin ropes, raised the bottom of the canvas,\nand intruded his head within the interior.  All was quiet and dark.\nTarzan crawled cautiously within--the scent of the Belgian was strong;\nbut it was not live scent. Even before he had examined the interior\nminutely, Tarzan knew that no one was within it.\n\nIn one corner he found a pile of blankets and clothing scattered about;\nbut no pouch of pretty pebbles.  A careful examination of the balance\nof the tent revealed nothing more, at least nothing to indicate the\npresence of the jewels; but at the side where the blankets and clothing\nlay, the ape-man discovered that the tent wall had been loosened at the\nbottom, and presently he sensed that the Belgian had recently passed\nout of the tent by this avenue.\n\nTarzan was not long in following the way that his prey had fled.  The\nspoor led always in the shadow and at the rear of the huts and tents of\nthe village--it was quite evident to Tarzan that the Belgian had gone\nalone and secretly upon his mission.  Evidently he feared the\ninhabitants of the village, or at least his work had been of such a\nnature that he dared not risk detection.\n\nAt the back of a native hut the spoor led through a small hole recently\ncut in the brush wall and into the dark interior beyond.  Fearlessly,\nTarzan followed the trail.  On hands and knees, he crawled through the\nsmall aperture.  Within the hut his nostrils were assailed by many\nodors; but clear and distinct among them was one that half aroused a\nlatent memory of the past--it was the faint and delicate odor of a\nwoman.  With the cognizance of it there rose in the breast of the\nape-man a strange uneasiness--the result of an irresistible force which\nhe was destined to become acquainted with anew--the instinct which\ndraws the male to his mate.\n\nIn the same hut was the scent spoor of the Belgian, too, and as both\nthese assailed the nostrils of the ape-man, mingling one with the\nother, a jealous rage leaped and burned within him, though his memory\nheld before the mirror of recollection no image of the she to which he\nhad attached his desire.\n\nLike the tent he had investigated, the hut, too, was empty, and after\nsatisfying himself that his stolen pouch was secreted nowhere within,\nhe left, as he had entered, by the hole in the rear wall.\n\nHere he took up the spoor of the Belgian, followed it across the\nclearing, over the palisade, and out into the dark jungle beyond.\n\n\n\n\n15\n\nThe Flight of Werper\n\n\nAfter Werper had arranged the dummy in his bed, and sneaked out into\nthe darkness of the village beneath the rear wall of his tent, he had\ngone directly to the hut in which Jane Clayton was held captive.\n\nBefore the doorway squatted a black sentry.  Werper approached him\nboldly, spoke a few words in his ear, handed him a package of tobacco,\nand passed into the hut.  The black grinned and winked as the European\ndisappeared within the darkness of the interior.\n\nThe Belgian, being one of Achmet Zek's principal lieutenants, might\nnaturally go where he wished within or without the village, and so the\nsentry had not questioned his right to enter the hut with the white,\nwoman prisoner.\n\nWithin, Werper called in French and in a low whisper: \"Lady Greystoke!\nIt is I, M. Frecoult.  Where are you?\" But there was no response.\nHastily the man felt around the interior, groping blindly through the\ndarkness with outstretched hands.  There was no one within!\n\nWerper's astonishment surpassed words.  He was on the point of stepping\nwithout to question the sentry, when his eyes, becoming accustomed to\nthe dark, discovered a blotch of lesser blackness near the base of the\nrear wall of the hut. Examination revealed the fact that the blotch was\nan opening cut in the wall.  It was large enough to permit the passage\nof his body, and assured as he was that Lady Greystoke had passed out\nthrough the aperture in an attempt to escape the village, he lost no\ntime in availing himself of the same avenue; but neither did he lose\ntime in a fruitless search for Jane Clayton.\n\nHis own life depended upon the chance of his eluding, or outdistancing\nAchmet Zek, when that worthy should have discovered that he had\nescaped.  His original plan had contemplated connivance in the escape\nof Lady Greystoke for two very good and sufficient reasons.  The first\nwas that by saving her he would win the gratitude of the English, and\nthus lessen the chance of his extradition should his identity and his\ncrime against his superior officer be charged against him.\n\nThe second reason was based upon the fact that only one direction of\nescape was safely open to him.  He could not travel to the west because\nof the Belgian possessions which lay between him and the Atlantic.  The\nsouth was closed to him by the feared presence of the savage ape-man he\nhad robbed.  To the north lay the friends and allies of Achmet Zek.\nOnly toward the east, through British East Africa, lay reasonable\nassurance of freedom.\n\nAccompanied by a titled Englishwoman whom he had rescued from a\nfrightful fate, and his identity vouched for by her as that of a\nFrenchman by the name of Frecoult, he had looked forward, and not\nwithout reason, to the active assistance of the British from the moment\nthat he came in contact with their first outpost.\n\nBut now that Lady Greystoke had disappeared, though he still looked\ntoward the east for hope, his chances were lessened, and another,\nsubsidiary design completely dashed. From the moment that he had first\nlaid eyes upon Jane Clayton he had nursed within his breast a secret\npassion for the beautiful American wife of the English lord, and when\nAchmet Zek's discovery of the jewels had necessitated flight, the\nBelgian had dreamed, in his planning, of a future in which he might\nconvince Lady Greystoke that her husband was dead, and by playing upon\nher gratitude win her for himself.\n\nAt that part of the village farthest from the gates, Werper discovered\nthat two or three long poles, taken from a nearby pile which had been\ncollected for the construction of huts, had been leaned against the top\nof the palisade, forming a precarious, though not impossible avenue of\nescape.\n\nRightly, he inferred that thus had Lady Greystoke found the means to\nscale the wall, nor did he lose even a moment in following her lead.\nOnce in the jungle he struck out directly eastward.\n\nA few miles south of him, Jane Clayton lay panting among the branches\nof a tree in which she had taken refuge from a prowling and hungry\nlioness.\n\nHer escape from the village had been much easier than she had\nanticipated.  The knife which she had used to cut her way through the\nbrush wall of the hut to freedom she had found sticking in the wall of\nher prison, doubtless left there by accident when a former tenant had\nvacated the premises.\n\nTo cross the rear of the village, keeping always in the densest\nshadows, had required but a few moments, and the fortunate circumstance\nof the discovery of the hut poles lying so near the palisade had solved\nfor her the problem of the passage of the high wall.\n\nFor an hour she had followed the old game trail toward the south, until\nthere fell upon her trained hearing the stealthy padding of a stalking\nbeast behind her.  The nearest tree gave her instant sanctuary, for she\nwas too wise in the ways of the jungle to chance her safety for a\nmoment after discovering that she was being hunted.\n\nWerper, with better success, traveled slowly onward until dawn, when,\nto his chagrin, he discovered a mounted Arab upon his trail.  It was\none of Achmet Zek's minions, many of whom were scattered in all\ndirections through the forest, searching for the fugitive Belgian.\n\nJane Clayton's escape had not yet been discovered when Achmet Zek and\nhis searchers set forth to overhaul Werper. The only man who had seen\nthe Belgian after his departure from his tent was the black sentry\nbefore the doorway of Lady Greystoke's prison hut, and he had been\nsilenced by the discovery of the dead body of the man who had relieved\nhim, the sentry that Mugambi had dispatched.\n\nThe bribe taker naturally inferred that Werper had slain his fellow and\ndared not admit that he had permitted him to enter the hut, fearing as\nhe did, the anger of Achmet Zek. So, as chance directed that he should\nbe the one to discover the body of the sentry when the first alarm had\nbeen given following Achmet Zek's discovery that Werper had outwitted\nhim, the crafty black had dragged the dead body to the interior of a\nnearby tent, and himself resumed his station before the doorway of the\nhut in which he still believed the woman to be.\n\nWith the discovery of the Arab close behind him, the Belgian hid in the\nfoliage of a leafy bush.  Here the trail ran straight for a\nconsiderable distance, and down the shady forest aisle, beneath the\noverarching branches of the trees, rode the white-robed figure of the\npursuer.\n\nNearer and nearer he came.  Werper crouched closer to the ground behind\nthe leaves of his hiding place.  Across the trail a vine moved.\nWerper's eyes instantly centered upon the spot.  There was no wind to\nstir the foliage in the depths of the jungle.  Again the vine moved.\nIn the mind of the Belgian only the presence of a sinister and\nmalevolent force could account for the phenomenon.\n\nThe man's eyes bored steadily into the screen of leaves upon the\nopposite side of the trail.  Gradually a form took shape beyond them--a\ntawny form, grim and terrible, with yellow-green eyes glaring\nfearsomely across the narrow trail straight into his.\n\nWerper could have screamed in fright, but up the trail was coming the\nmessenger of another death, equally sure and no less terrible.  He\nremained silent, almost paralyzed by fear. The Arab approached.  Across\nthe trail from Werper the lion crouched for the spring, when suddenly\nhis attention was attracted toward the horseman.\n\nThe Belgian saw the massive head turn in the direction of the raider\nand his heart all but ceased its beating as he awaited the result of\nthis interruption.  At a walk the horseman approached.  Would the\nnervous animal he rode take fright at the odor of the carnivore, and,\nbolting, leave Werper still to the mercies of the king of beasts?\n\nBut he seemed unmindful of the near presence of the great cat.  On he\ncame, his neck arched, champing at the bit between his teeth.  The\nBelgian turned his eyes again toward the lion.  The beast's whole\nattention now seemed riveted upon the horseman.  They were abreast the\nlion now, and still the brute did not spring.  Could he be but waiting\nfor them to pass before returning his attention to the original prey?\nWerper shuddered and half rose.  At the same instant the lion sprang\nfrom his place of concealment, full upon the mounted man.  The horse,\nwith a shrill neigh of terror, shrank sideways almost upon the Belgian,\nthe lion dragged the helpless Arab from his saddle, and the horse\nleaped back into the trail and fled away toward the west.\n\nBut he did not flee alone.  As the frightened beast had pressed in upon\nhim, Werper had not been slow to note the quickly emptied saddle and\nthe opportunity it presented. Scarcely had the lion dragged the Arab\ndown from one side, than the Belgian, seizing the pommel of the saddle\nand the horse's mane, leaped upon the horse's back from the other.\n\nA half hour later a naked giant, swinging easily through the lower\nbranches of the trees, paused, and with raised head, and dilating\nnostrils sniffed the morning air.  The smell of blood fell strong upon\nhis senses, and mingled with it was the scent of Numa, the lion.  The\ngiant cocked his head upon one side and listened.\n\nFrom a short distance up the trail came the unmistakable noises of the\ngreedy feeding of a lion.  The crunching of bones, the gulping of great\npieces, the contented growling, all attested the nearness of the king\nat table.\n\nTarzan approached the spot, still keeping to the branches of the trees.\nHe made no effort to conceal his approach, and presently he had\nevidence that Numa had heard him, from the ominous, rumbling warning\nthat broke from a thicket beside the trail.\n\nHalting upon a low branch just above the lion Tarzan looked down upon\nthe grisly scene.  Could this unrecognizable thing be the man he had\nbeen trailing?  The ape-man wondered.  From time to time he had\ndescended to the trail and verified his judgment by the evidence of his\nscent that the Belgian had followed this game trail toward the east.\n\nNow he proceeded beyond the lion and his feast, again descended and\nexamined the ground with his nose.  There was no scent spoor here of\nthe man he had been trailing. Tarzan returned to the tree.  With keen\neyes he searched the ground about the mutilated corpse for a sign of\nthe missing pouch of pretty pebbles; but naught could he see of it.\n\nHe scolded Numa and tried to drive the great beast away; but only angry\ngrowls rewarded his efforts.  He tore small branches from a nearby limb\nand hurled them at his ancient enemy.  Numa looked up with bared fangs,\ngrinning hideously, but he did not rise from his kill.\n\nThen Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow, and drawing the slim shaft far\nback let drive with all the force of the tough wood that only he could\nbend.  As the arrow sank deeply into his side, Numa leaped to his feet\nwith a roar of mingled rage and pain.  He leaped futilely at the\ngrinning ape-man, tore at the protruding end of the shaft, and then,\nspringing into the trail, paced back and forth beneath his tormentor.\nAgain Tarzan loosed a swift bolt.  This time the missile, aimed with\ncare, lodged in the lion's spine.  The great creature halted in its\ntracks, and lurched awkwardly forward upon its face, paralyzed.\n\nTarzan dropped to the trail, ran quickly to the beast's side, and drove\nhis spear deep into the fierce heart, then after recovering his arrows\nturned his attention to the mutilated remains of the animal's prey in\nthe nearby thicket.\n\nThe face was gone.  The Arab garments aroused no doubt as to the man's\nidentity, since he had trailed him into the Arab camp and out again,\nwhere he might easily have acquired the apparel.  So sure was Tarzan\nthat the body was that of he who had robbed him that he made no effort\nto verify his deductions by scent among the conglomerate odors of the\ngreat carnivore and the fresh blood of the victim.\n\nHe confined his attentions to a careful search for the pouch, but\nnowhere upon or about the corpse was any sign of the missing article or\nits contents.  The ape-man was disappointed--possibly not so much\nbecause of the loss of the colored pebbles as with Numa for robbing him\nof the pleasures of revenge.\n\nWondering what could have become of his possessions, the ape-man turned\nslowly back along the trail in the direction from which he had come.\nIn his mind he revolved a plan to enter and search the Arab camp, after\ndarkness had again fallen.  Taking to the trees, he moved directly\nsouth in search of prey, that he might satisfy his hunger before\nmidday, and then lie up for the afternoon in some spot far from the\ncamp, where he might sleep without fear of discovery until it came time\nto prosecute his design.\n\nScarcely had he quitted the trail when a tall, black warrior, moving at\na dogged trot, passed toward the east.  It was Mugambi, searching for\nhis mistress.  He continued along the trail, halting to examine the\nbody of the dead lion.  An expression of puzzlement crossed his\nfeatures as he bent to search for the wounds which had caused the death\nof the jungle lord.  Tarzan had removed his arrows, but to Mugambi the\nproof of death was as strong as though both the lighter missiles and\nthe spear still protruded from the carcass.\n\nThe black looked furtively about him.  The body was still warm, and\nfrom this fact he reasoned that the killer was close at hand, yet no\nsign of living man appeared.  Mugambi shook his head, and continued\nalong the trail, but with redoubled caution.\n\nAll day he traveled, stopping occasionally to call aloud the single\nword, \"Lady,\" in the hope that at last she might hear and respond; but\nin the end his loyal devotion brought him to disaster.\n\nFrom the northeast, for several months, Abdul Mourak, in command of a\ndetachment of Abyssinian soldiers, had been assiduously searching for\nthe Arab raider, Achmet Zek, who, six months previously, had affronted\nthe majesty of Abdul Mourak's emperor by conducting a slave raid within\nthe boundaries of Menelek's domain.\n\nAnd now it happened that Abdul Mourak had halted for a short rest at\nnoon upon this very day and along the same trail that Werper and\nMugambi were following toward the east.\n\nIt was shortly after the soldiers had dismounted that the Belgian,\nunaware of their presence, rode his tired mount almost into their\nmidst, before he had discovered them.  Instantly he was surrounded, and\na volley of questions hurled at him, as he was pulled from his horse\nand led toward the presence of the commander.\n\nFalling back upon his European nationality, Werper assured Abdul Mourak\nthat he was a Frenchman, hunting in Africa, and that he had been\nattacked by strangers, his safari killed or scattered, and himself\nescaping only by a miracle.\n\nFrom a chance remark of the Abyssinian, Werper discovered the purpose\nof the expedition, and when he realized that these men were the enemies\nof Achmet Zek, he took heart, and immediately blamed his predicament\nupon the Arab.\n\nLest, however, he might again fall into the hands of the raider, he\ndiscouraged Abdul Mourak in the further prosecution of his pursuit,\nassuring the Abyssinian that Achmet Zek commanded a large and dangerous\nforce, and also that he was marching rapidly toward the south.\n\nConvinced that it would take a long time to overhaul the raider, and\nthat the chances of engagement made the outcome extremely questionable,\nMourak, none too unwillingly, abandoned his plan and gave the necessary\norders for his command to pitch camp where they were, preparatory to\ntaking up the return march toward Abyssinia the following morning.\n\nIt was late in the afternoon that the attention of the camp was\nattracted toward the west by the sound of a powerful voice calling a\nsingle word, repeated several times: \"Lady!  Lady!  Lady!\"\n\nTrue to their instincts of precaution, a number of Abyssinians, acting\nunder orders from Abdul Mourak, advanced stealthily through the jungle\ntoward the author of the call.\n\nA half hour later they returned, dragging Mugambi among them.  The\nfirst person the big black's eyes fell upon as he was hustled into the\npresence of the Abyssinian officer, was M. Jules Frecoult, the\nFrenchman who had been the guest of his master and whom he last had\nseen entering the village of Achmet Zek under circumstances which\npointed to his familiarity and friendship for the raiders.\n\nBetween the disasters that had befallen his master and his master's\nhouse, and the Frenchman, Mugambi saw a sinister relationship, which\nkept him from recalling to Werper's attention the identity which the\nlatter evidently failed to recognize.\n\nPleading that he was but a harmless hunter from a tribe farther south,\nMugambi begged to be allowed to go upon his way; but Abdul Mourak,\nadmiring the warrior's splendid physique, decided to take him back to\nAdis Abeba and present him to Menelek.  A few moments later Mugambi and\nWerper were marched away under guard, and the Belgian learned for the\nfirst time, that he too was a prisoner rather than a guest.  In vain he\nprotested against such treatment, until a strapping soldier struck him\nacross the mouth and threatened to shoot him if he did not desist.\n\nMugambi took the matter less to heart, for he had not the slightest\ndoubt but that during the course of the journey he would find ample\nopportunity to elude the vigilance of his guards and make good his\nescape.  With this idea always uppermost in his mind, he courted the\ngood opinion of the Abyssinians, asked them many questions about their\nemperor and their country, and evinced a growing desire to reach their\ndestination, that he might enjoy all the good things which they assured\nhim the city of Adis Abeba contained.  Thus he disarmed their\nsuspicions, and each day found a slight relaxation of their\nwatchfulness over him.\n\nBy taking advantage of the fact that he and Werper always were kept\ntogether, Mugambi sought to learn what the other knew of the\nwhereabouts of Tarzan, or the authorship of the raid upon the bungalow,\nas well as the fate of Lady Greystoke; but as he was confined to the\naccidents of conversation for this information, not daring to acquaint\nWerper with his true identity, and as Werper was equally anxious to\nconceal from the world his part in the destruction of his host's home\nand happiness, Mugambi learned nothing--at least in this way.\n\nBut there came a time when he learned a very surprising thing, by\naccident.\n\nThe party had camped early in the afternoon of a sultry day, upon the\nbanks of a clear and beautiful stream.  The bottom of the river was\ngravelly, there was no indication of crocodiles, those menaces to\npromiscuous bathing in the rivers of certain portions of the dark\ncontinent, and so the Abyssinians took advantage of the opportunity to\nperform long-deferred, and much needed, ablutions.\n\nAs Werper, who, with Mugambi, had been given permission to enter the\nwater, removed his clothing, the black noted the care with which he\nunfastened something which circled his waist, and which he took off\nwith his shirt, keeping the latter always around and concealing the\nobject of his suspicious solicitude.\n\nIt was this very carefulness which attracted the black's attention to\nthe thing, arousing a natural curiosity in the warrior's mind, and so\nit chanced that when the Belgian, in the nervousness of overcaution,\nfumbled the hidden article and dropped it, Mugambi saw it as it fell\nupon the ground, spilling a portion of its contents on the sward.\n\nNow Mugambi had been to London with his master.  He was not the\nunsophisticated savage that his apparel proclaimed him.  He had mingled\nwith the cosmopolitan hordes of the greatest city in the world; he had\nvisited museums and inspected shop windows; and, besides, he was a\nshrewd and intelligent man.\n\nThe instant that the jewels of Opar rolled, scintillating, before his\nastonished eyes, he recognized them for what they were; but he\nrecognized something else, too, that interested him far more deeply\nthan the value of the stones. A thousand times he had seen the leathern\npouch which dangled at his master's side, when Tarzan of the Apes had,\nin a spirit of play and adventure, elected to return for a few hours to\nthe primitive manners and customs of his boyhood, and surrounded by his\nnaked warriors hunt the lion and the leopard, the buffalo and the\nelephant after the manner he loved best.\n\nWerper saw that Mugambi had seen the pouch and the stones.  Hastily he\ngathered up the precious gems and returned them to their container,\nwhile Mugambi, assuming an air of indifference, strolled down to the\nriver for his bath.\n\nThe following morning Abdul Mourak was enraged and chagrined to\ndiscover that his huge, black prisoner had escaped during the night,\nwhile Werper was terrified for the same reason, until his trembling\nfingers discovered the pouch still in its place beneath his shirt, and\nwithin it the hard outlines of its contents.\n\n\n\n\n16\n\nTarzan Again Leads the Mangani\n\n\nAchmet Zek with two of his followers had circled far to the south to\nintercept the flight of his deserting lieutenant, Werper.  Others had\nspread out in various directions, so that a vast circle had been formed\nby them during the night, and now they were beating in toward the\ncenter.\n\nAchmet and the two with him halted for a short rest just before noon.\nThey squatted beneath the trees upon the southern edge of a clearing.\nThe chief of the raiders was in ill humor.  To have been outwitted by\nan unbeliever was bad enough; but to have, at the same time, lost the\njewels upon which he had set his avaricious heart was altogether too\nmuch--Allah must, indeed be angry with his servant.\n\nWell, he still had the woman.  She would bring a fair price in the\nnorth, and there was, too, the buried treasure beside the ruins of the\nEnglishman's house.\n\nA slight noise in the jungle upon the opposite side of the clearing\nbrought Achmet Zek to immediate and alert attention.  He gathered his\nrifle in readiness for instant use, at the same time motioning his\nfollowers to silence and concealment.  Crouching behind the bushes the\nthree waited, their eyes fastened upon the far side of the open space.\n\nPresently the foliage parted and a woman's face appeared, glancing\nfearfully from side to side.  A moment later, evidently satisfied that\nno immediate danger lurked before her, she stepped out into the\nclearing in full view of the Arab.\n\nAchmet Zek caught his breath with a muttered exclamation of incredulity\nand an imprecation.  The woman was the prisoner he had thought safely\nguarded at his camp!\n\nApparently she was alone, but Achmet Zek waited that he might make sure\nof it before seizing her.  Slowly Jane Clayton started across the\nclearing.  Twice already since she had quitted the village of the\nraiders had she barely escaped the fangs of carnivora, and once she had\nalmost stumbled into the path of one of the searchers.  Though she was\nalmost despairing of ever reaching safety she still was determined to\nfight on, until death or success terminated her endeavors.\n\nAs the Arabs watched her from the safety of their concealment, and\nAchmet Zek noted with satisfaction that she was walking directly into\nhis clutches, another pair of eyes looked down upon the entire scene\nfrom the foliage of an adjacent tree.\n\nPuzzled, troubled eyes they were, for all their gray and savage glint,\nfor their owner was struggling with an intangible suggestion of the\nfamiliarity of the face and figure of the woman below him.\n\nA sudden crashing of the bushes at the point from which Jane Clayton\nhad emerged into the clearing brought her to a sudden stop and\nattracted the attention of the Arabs and the watcher in the tree to the\nsame point.\n\nThe woman wheeled about to see what new danger menaced her from behind,\nand as she did so a great, anthropoid ape waddled into view.  Behind\nhim came another and another; but Lady Greystoke did not wait to learn\nhow many more of the hideous creatures were so close upon her trail.\n\nWith a smothered scream she rushed toward the opposite jungle, and as\nshe reached the bushes there, Achmet Zek and his two henchmen rose up\nand seized her.  At the same instant a naked, brown giant dropped from\nthe branches of a tree at the right of the clearing.\n\nTurning toward the astonished apes he gave voice to a short volley of\nlow gutturals, and without waiting to note the effect of his words upon\nthem, wheeled and charged for the Arabs.\n\nAchmet Zek was dragging Jane Clayton toward his tethered horse.  His\ntwo men were hastily unfastening all three mounts.  The woman,\nstruggling to escape the Arab, turned and saw the ape-man running\ntoward her.  A glad light of hope illuminated her face.\n\n\"John!\" she cried.  \"Thank God that you have come in time.\"\n\nBehind Tarzan came the great apes, wondering, but obedient to his\nsummons.  The Arabs saw that they would not have time to mount and make\ntheir escape before the beasts and the man were upon them.  Achmet Zek\nrecognized the latter as the redoubtable enemy of such as he, and he\nsaw, too, in the circumstance an opportunity to rid himself forever of\nthe menace of the ape-man's presence.\n\nCalling to his men to follow his example he raised his rifle and\nleveled it upon the charging giant.  His followers, acting with no less\nalacrity than himself, fired almost simultaneously, and with the\nreports of the rifles, Tarzan of the Apes and two of his hairy henchmen\npitched forward among the jungle grasses.\n\nThe noise of the rifle shots brought the balance of the apes to a\nwondering pause, and, taking advantage of their momentary distraction,\nAchmet Zek and his fellows leaped to their horses' backs and galloped\naway with the now hopeless and grief-stricken woman.\n\nBack to the village they rode, and once again Lady Greystoke found\nherself incarcerated in the filthy, little hut from which she had\nthought to have escaped for good.  But this time she was not only\nguarded by an additional sentry, but bound as well.\n\nSingly and in twos the searchers who had ridden out with Achmet Zek\nupon the trail of the Belgian, returned empty handed.  With the report\nof each the raider's rage and chagrin increased, until he was in such a\ntransport of ferocious anger that none dared approach him.  Threatening\nand cursing, Achmet Zek paced up and down the floor of his silken tent;\nbut his temper served him naught--Werper was gone and with him the\nfortune in scintillating gems which had aroused the cupidity of his\nchief and placed the sentence of death upon the head of the lieutenant.\n\nWith the escape of the Arabs the great apes had turned their attention\nto their fallen comrades.  One was dead, but another and the great\nwhite ape still breathed.  The hairy monsters gathered about these two,\ngrumbling and muttering after the fashion of their kind.\n\nTarzan was the first to regain consciousness.  Sitting up, he looked\nabout him.  Blood was flowing from a wound in his shoulder.  The shock\nhad thrown him down and dazed him; but he was far from dead.  Rising\nslowly to his feet he let his eyes wander toward the spot where last he\nhad seen the she, who had aroused within his savage breast such strange\nemotions.\n\n\"Where is she?\" he asked.\n\n\"The Tarmangani took her away,\" replied one of the apes.  \"Who are you\nwho speak the language of the Mangani?\"\n\n\"I am Tarzan,\" replied the ape-man; \"mighty hunter, greatest of\nfighters.  When I roar, the jungle is silent and trembles with terror.\nI am Tarzan of the Apes.  I have been away; but now I have come back to\nmy people.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" spoke up an old ape, \"he is Tarzan.  I know him.  It is well\nthat he has come back.  Now we shall have good hunting.\"\n\nThe other apes came closer and sniffed at the ape-man.  Tarzan stood\nvery still, his fangs half bared, and his muscles tense and ready for\naction; but there was none there to question his right to be with them,\nand presently, the inspection satisfactorily concluded, the apes again\nreturned their attention to the other survivor.\n\nHe too was but slightly wounded, a bullet, grazing his skull, having\nstunned him, so that when he regained consciousness he was apparently\nas fit as ever.\n\nThe apes told Tarzan that they had been traveling toward the east when\nthe scent spoor of the she had attracted them and they had stalked her.\nNow they wished to continue upon their interrupted march; but Tarzan\npreferred to follow the Arabs and take the woman from them.  After a\nconsiderable argument it was decided that they should first hunt toward\nthe east for a few days and then return and search for the Arabs, and\nas time is of little moment to the ape folk, Tarzan acceded to their\ndemands, he, himself, having reverted to a mental state but little\nsuperior to their own.\n\nAnother circumstance which decided him to postpone pursuit of the Arabs\nwas the painfulness of his wound.  It would be better to wait until\nthat had healed before he pitted himself again against the guns of the\nTarmangani.\n\nAnd so, as Jane Clayton was pushed into her prison hut and her hands\nand feet securely bound, her natural protector roamed off toward the\neast in company with a score of hairy monsters, with whom he rubbed\nshoulders as familiarly as a few months before he had mingled with his\nimmaculate fellow-members of one of London's most select and exclusive\nclubs.\n\nBut all the time there lurked in the back of his injured brain a\ntroublesome conviction that he had no business where he was--that he\nshould be, for some unaccountable reason, elsewhere and among another\nsort of creature.  Also, there was the compelling urge to be upon the\nscent of the Arabs, undertaking the rescue of the woman who had\nappealed so strongly to his savage sentiments; though the thought-word\nwhich naturally occurred to him in the contemplation of the venture,\nwas \"capture,\" rather than \"rescue.\"\n\nTo him she was as any other jungle she, and he had set his heart upon\nher as his mate.  For an instant, as he had approached closer to her in\nthe clearing where the Arabs had seized her, the subtle aroma which had\nfirst aroused his desires in the hut that had imprisoned her had fallen\nupon his nostrils, and told him that he had found the creature for whom\nhe had developed so sudden and inexplicable a passion.\n\nThe matter of the pouch of jewels also occupied his thoughts to some\nextent, so that he found a double urge for his return to the camp of\nthe raiders.  He would obtain possession of both his pretty pebbles and\nthe she.  Then he would return to the great apes with his new mate and\nhis baubles, and leading his hairy companions into a far wilderness\nbeyond the ken of man, live out his life, hunting and battling among\nthe lower orders after the only manner which he now recollected.\n\nHe spoke to his fellow-apes upon the matter, in an attempt to persuade\nthem to accompany him; but all except Taglat and Chulk refused.  The\nlatter was young and strong, endowed with a greater intelligence than\nhis fellows, and therefore the possessor of better developed powers of\nimagination.  To him the expedition savored of adventure, and so\nappealed, strongly.  With Taglat there was another incentive--a secret\nand sinister incentive, which, had Tarzan of the Apes had knowledge of\nit, would have sent him at the other's throat in jealous rage.\n\nTaglat was no longer young; but he was still a formidable beast,\nmightily muscled, cruel, and, because of his greater experience, crafty\nand cunning.  Too, he was of giant proportions, the very weight of his\nhuge bulk serving ofttimes to discount in his favor the superior\nagility of a younger antagonist.\n\nHe was of a morose and sullen disposition that marked him even among\nhis frowning fellows, where such characteristics are the rule rather\nthan the exception, and, though Tarzan did not guess it, he hated the\nape-man with a ferocity that he was able to hide only because the\ndominant spirit of the nobler creature had inspired within him a\nspecies of dread which was as powerful as it was inexplicable to him.\n\nThese two, then, were to be Tarzan's companions upon his return to the\nvillage of Achmet Zek.  As they set off, the balance of the tribe\nvouchsafed them but a parting stare, and then resumed the serious\nbusiness of feeding.\n\nTarzan found difficulty in keeping the minds of his fellows set upon\nthe purpose of their adventure, for the mind of an ape lacks the power\nof long-sustained concentration.  To set out upon a long journey, with\na definite destination in view, is one thing, to remember that purpose\nand keep it uppermost in one's mind continually is quite another.\nThere are so many things to distract one's attention along the way.\n\nChulk was, at first, for rushing rapidly ahead as though the village of\nthe raiders lay but an hour's march before them instead of several\ndays; but within a few minutes a fallen tree attracted his attention\nwith its suggestion of rich and succulent forage beneath, and when\nTarzan, missing him, returned in search, he found Chulk squatting\nbeside the rotting bole, from beneath which he was assiduously engaged\nin digging out the grubs and beetles, whose kind form a considerable\nproportion of the diet of the apes.\n\nUnless Tarzan desired to fight there was nothing to do but wait until\nChulk had exhausted the storehouse, and this he did, only to discover\nthat Taglat was now missing.  After a considerable search, he found\nthat worthy gentleman contemplating the sufferings of an injured rodent\nhe had pounced upon.  He would sit in apparent indifference, gazing in\nanother direction, while the crippled creature wriggled slowly and\npainfully away from him, and then, just as his victim felt assured of\nescape, he would reach out a giant palm and slam it down upon the\nfugitive.  Again and again he repeated this operation, until, tiring of\nthe sport, he ended the sufferings of his plaything by devouring it.\n\nSuch were the exasperating causes of delay which retarded Tarzan's\nreturn journey toward the village of Achmet Zek; but the ape-man was\npatient, for in his mind was a plan which necessitated the presence of\nChulk and Taglat when he should have arrived at his destination.\n\nIt was not always an easy thing to maintain in the vacillating minds of\nthe anthropoids a sustained interest in their venture.  Chulk was\nwearying of the continued marching and the infrequency and short\nduration of the rests.  He would gladly have abandoned this search for\nadventure had not Tarzan continually filled his mind with alluring\npictures of the great stores of food which were to be found in the\nvillage of Tarmangani.\n\nTaglat nursed his secret purpose to better advantage than might have\nbeen expected of an ape, yet there were times when he, too, would have\nabandoned the adventure had not Tarzan cajoled him on.\n\nIt was mid-afternoon of a sultry, tropical day when the keen senses of\nthe three warned them of the proximity of the Arab camp.  Stealthily\nthey approached, keeping to the dense tangle of growing things which\nmade concealment easy to their uncanny jungle craft.\n\nFirst came the giant ape-man, his smooth, brown skin glistening with\nthe sweat of exertion in the close, hot confines of the jungle.  Behind\nhim crept Chulk and Taglat, grotesque and shaggy caricatures of their\ngodlike leader.\n\nSilently they made their way to the edge of the clearing which\nsurrounded the palisade, and here they clambered into the lower\nbranches of a large tree overlooking the village occupied by the enemy,\nthe better to spy upon his goings and comings.\n\nA horseman, white burnoosed, rode out through the gateway of the\nvillage.  Tarzan, whispering to Chulk and Taglat to remain where they\nwere, swung, monkey-like, through the trees in the direction of the\ntrail the Arab was riding.  From one jungle giant to the next he sped\nwith the rapidity of a squirrel and the silence of a ghost.\n\nThe Arab rode slowly onward, unconscious of the danger hovering in the\ntrees behind him.  The ape-man made a slight detour and increased his\nspeed until he had reached a point upon the trail in advance of the\nhorseman.  Here he halted upon a leafy bough which overhung the narrow,\njungle trail. On came the victim, humming a wild air of the great\ndesert land of the north.  Above him poised the savage brute that was\ntoday bent upon the destruction of a human life--the same creature who\na few months before, had occupied his seat in the House of Lords at\nLondon, a respected and distinguished member of that august body.\n\nThe Arab passed beneath the overhanging bough, there was a slight\nrustling of the leaves above, the horse snorted and plunged as a\nbrown-skinned creature dropped upon its rump.  A pair of mighty arms\nencircled the Arab and he was dragged from his saddle to the trail.\n\nTen minutes later the ape-man, carrying the outer garments of an Arab\nbundled beneath an arm, rejoined his companions.  He exhibited his\ntrophies to them, explaining in low gutturals the details of his\nexploit.  Chulk and Taglat fingered the fabrics, smelled of them, and,\nplacing them to their ears, tried to listen to them.\n\nThen Tarzan led them back through the jungle to the trail, where the\nthree hid themselves and waited.  Nor had they long to wait before two\nof Achmet Zek's blacks, clothed in habiliments similar to their\nmaster's, came down the trail on foot, returning to the camp.\n\nOne moment they were laughing and talking together--the next they lay\nstretched in death upon the trail, three mighty engines of destruction\nbending over them.  Tarzan removed their outer garments as he had\nremoved those of his first victim, and again retired with Chulk and\nTaglat to the greater seclusion of the tree they had first selected.\n\nHere the ape-man arranged the garments upon his shaggy fellows and\nhimself, until, at a distance, it might have appeared that three\nwhite-robed Arabs squatted silently among the branches of the forest.\n\nUntil dark they remained where they were, for from his point of\nvantage, Tarzan could view the enclosure within the palisade.  He\nmarked the position of the hut in which he had first discovered the\nscent spoor of the she he sought.  He saw the two sentries standing\nbefore its doorway, and he located the habitation of Achmet Zek, where\nsomething told him he would most likely find the missing pouch and\npebbles.\n\nChulk and Taglat were, at first, greatly interested in their wonderful\nraiment.  They fingered the fabric, smelled of it, and regarded each\nother intently with every mark of satisfaction and pride.  Chulk, a\nhumorist in his way, stretched forth a long and hairy arm, and grasping\nthe hood of Taglat's burnoose pulled it down over the latter's eyes,\nextinguishing him, snuffer-like, as it were.\n\nThe older ape, pessimistic by nature, recognized no such thing as\nhumor.  Creatures laid their paws upon him for but two things--to\nsearch for fleas and to attack.  The pulling of the Tarmangani-scented\nthing about his head and eyes could not be for the performance of the\nformer act; therefore it must be the latter.  He was attacked!  Chulk\nhad attacked him.\n\nWith a snarl he was at the other's throat, not even waiting to lift the\nwoolen veil which obscured his vision.  Tarzan leaped upon the two, and\nswaying and toppling upon their insecure perch the three great beasts\ntussled and snapped at one another until the ape-man finally succeeded\nin separating the enraged anthropoids.\n\nAs apology is unknown to these savage progenitors of man, and\nexplanation a laborious and usually futile process, Tarzan bridged the\ndangerous gulf by distracting their attention from their altercation to\na consideration of their plans for the immediate future.  Accustomed to\nfrequent arguments in which more hair than blood is wasted, the apes\nspeedily forget such trivial encounters, and presently Chulk and Taglat\nwere again squatting in close proximity to each other and peaceful\nrepose, awaiting the moment when the ape-man should lead them into the\nvillage of the Tarmangani.\n\nIt was long after darkness had fallen, that Tarzan led his companions\nfrom their hiding place in the tree to the ground and around the\npalisade to the far side of the village.\n\nGathering the skirts of his burnoose, beneath one arm, that his legs\nmight have free action, the ape-man took a short running start, and\nscrambled to the top of the barrier.  Fearing lest the apes should rend\ntheir garments to shreds in a similar attempt, he had directed them to\nwait below for him, and himself securely perched upon the summit of the\npalisade he unslung his spear and lowered one end of it to Chulk.\n\nThe ape seized it, and while Tarzan held tightly to the upper end, the\nanthropoid climbed quickly up the shaft until with one paw he grasped\nthe top of the wall.  To scramble then to Tarzan's side was the work of\nbut an instant.  In like manner Taglat was conducted to their sides,\nand a moment later the three dropped silently within the enclosure.\n\nTarzan led them first to the rear of the hut in which Jane Clayton was\nconfined, where, through the roughly repaired aperture in the wall, he\nsought with his sensitive nostrils for proof that the she he had come\nfor was within.\n\nChulk and Taglat, their hairy faces pressed close to that of the\npatrician, sniffed with him.  Each caught the scent spoor of the woman\nwithin, and each reacted according to his temperament and his habits of\nthought.\n\nIt left Chulk indifferent.  The she was for Tarzan--all that he desired\nwas to bury his snout in the foodstuffs of the Tarmangani.  He had come\nto eat his fill without labor--Tarzan had told him that that should be\nhis reward, and he was satisfied.\n\nBut Taglat's wicked, bloodshot eyes, narrowed to the realization of the\nnearing fulfillment of his carefully nursed plan.  It is true that\nsometimes during the several days that had elapsed since they had set\nout upon their expedition it had been difficult for Taglat to hold his\nidea uppermost in his mind, and on several occasions he had completely\nforgotten it, until Tarzan, by a chance word, had recalled it to him,\nbut, for an ape, Taglat had done well.\n\nNow, he licked his chops, and he made a sickening, sucking noise with\nhis flabby lips as he drew in his breath.\n\nSatisfied that the she was where he had hoped to find her, Tarzan led\nhis apes toward the tent of Achmet Zek.  A passing Arab and two slaves\nsaw them, but the night was dark and the white burnooses hid the hairy\nlimbs of the apes and the giant figure of their leader, so that the\nthree, by squatting down as though in conversation, were passed by,\nunsuspected.  To the rear of the tent they made their way.  Within,\nAchmet Zek conversed with several of his lieutenants.  Without, Tarzan\nlistened.\n\n\n\n\n17\n\nThe Deadly Peril of Jane Clayton\n\n\nLieutenant Albert Werper, terrified by contemplation of the fate which\nmight await him at Adis Abeba, cast about for some scheme of escape,\nbut after the black Mugambi had eluded their vigilance the Abyssinians\nredoubled their precautions to prevent Werper following the lead of the\nNegro.\n\nFor some time Werper entertained the idea of bribing Abdul Mourak with\na portion of the contents of the pouch; but fearing that the man would\ndemand all the gems as the price of liberty, the Belgian, influenced by\navarice, sought another avenue from his dilemma.\n\nIt was then that there dawned upon him the possibility of the success\nof a different course which would still leave him in possession of the\njewels, while at the same time satisfying the greed of the Abyssinian\nwith the conviction that he had obtained all that Werper had to offer.\n\nAnd so it was that a day or so after Mugambi had disappeared, Werper\nasked for an audience with Abdul Mourak.  As the Belgian entered the\npresence of his captor the scowl upon the features of the latter boded\nill for any hope which Werper might entertain, still he fortified\nhimself by recalling the common weakness of mankind, which permits the\nmost inflexible of natures to bend to the consuming desire for wealth.\n\nAbdul Mourak eyed him, frowningly.  \"What do you want now?\" he asked.\n\n\"My liberty,\" replied Werper.\n\nThe Abyssinian sneered.  \"And you disturbed me thus to tell me what any\nfool might know,\" he said.\n\n\"I can pay for it,\" said Werper.\n\nAbdul Mourak laughed loudly.  \"Pay for it?\" he cried.  \"What with--the\nrags that you have upon your back?  Or, perhaps you are concealing\nbeneath your coat a thousand pounds of ivory.  Get out!  You are a\nfool.  Do not bother me again or I shall have you whipped.\"\n\nBut Werper persisted.  His liberty and perhaps his life depended upon\nhis success.\n\n\"Listen to me,\" he pleaded.  \"If I can give you as much gold as ten men\nmay carry will you promise that I shall be conducted in safety to the\nnearest English commissioner?\"\n\n\"As much gold as ten men may carry!\" repeated Abdul Mourak.  \"You are\ncrazy.  Where have you so much gold as that?\"\n\n\"I know where it is hid,\" said Werper.  \"Promise, and I will lead you\nto it--if ten loads is enough?\"\n\nAbdul Mourak had ceased to laugh.  He was eyeing the Belgian intently.\nThe fellow seemed sane enough--yet ten loads of gold!  It was\npreposterous.  The Abyssinian thought in silence for a moment.\n\n\"Well, and if I promise,\" he said.  \"How far is this gold?\"\n\n\"A long week's march to the south,\" replied Werper.\n\n\"And if we do not find it where you say it is, do you realize what your\npunishment will be?\"\n\n\"If it is not there I will forfeit my life,\" replied the Belgian.  \"I\nknow it is there, for I saw it buried with my own eyes.  And\nmore--there are not only ten loads, but as many as fifty men may carry.\nIt is all yours if you will promise to see me safely delivered into the\nprotection of the English.\"\n\n\"You will stake your life against the finding of the gold?\" asked Abdul.\n\nWerper assented with a nod.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the Abyssinian, \"I promise, and even if there be but\nfive loads you shall have your freedom; but until the gold is in my\npossession you remain a prisoner.\"\n\n\"I am satisfied,\" said Werper.  \"Tomorrow we start?\"\n\nAbdul Mourak nodded, and the Belgian returned to his guards.  The\nfollowing day the Abyssinian soldiers were surprised to receive an\norder which turned their faces from the northeast to the south.  And so\nit happened that upon the very night that Tarzan and the two apes\nentered the village of the raiders, the Abyssinians camped but a few\nmiles to the east of the same spot.\n\nWhile Werper dreamed of freedom and the unmolested enjoyment of the\nfortune in his stolen pouch, and Abdul Mourak lay awake in greedy\ncontemplation of the fifty loads of gold which lay but a few days\nfarther to the south of him, Achmet Zek gave orders to his lieutenants\nthat they should prepare a force of fighting men and carriers to\nproceed to the ruins of the Englishman's DOUAR on the morrow and bring\nback the fabulous fortune which his renegade lieutenant had told him\nwas buried there.\n\nAnd as he delivered his instructions to those within, a silent listener\ncrouched without his tent, waiting for the time when he might enter in\nsafety and prosecute his search for the missing pouch and the pretty\npebbles that had caught his fancy.\n\nAt last the swarthy companions of Achmet Zek quitted his tent, and the\nleader went with them to smoke a pipe with one of their number, leaving\nhis own silken habitation unguarded.  Scarcely had they left the\ninterior when a knife blade was thrust through the fabric of the rear\nwall, some six feet above the ground, and a swift downward stroke\nopened an entrance to those who waited beyond.\n\nThrough the opening stepped the ape-man, and close behind him came the\nhuge Chulk; but Taglat did not follow them.  Instead he turned and\nslunk through the darkness toward the hut where the she who had\narrested his brutish interest lay securely bound.  Before the doorway\nthe sentries sat upon their haunches, conversing in monotones.  Within,\nthe young woman lay upon a filthy sleeping mat, resigned, through utter\nhopelessness to whatever fate lay in store for her until the\nopportunity arrived which would permit her to free herself by the only\nmeans which now seemed even remotely possible--the hitherto detested\nact of self-destruction.\n\nCreeping silently toward the sentries, a white-burnoosed figure\napproached the shadows at one end of the hut.  The meager intellect of\nthe creature denied it the advantage it might have taken of its\ndisguise.  Where it could have walked boldly to the very sides of the\nsentries, it chose rather to sneak upon them, unseen, from the rear.\n\nIt came to the corner of the hut and peered around.  The sentries were\nbut a few paces away; but the ape did not dare expose himself, even for\nan instant, to those feared and hated thunder-sticks which the\nTarmangani knew so well how to use, if there were another and safer\nmethod of attack.\n\nTaglat wished that there was a tree nearby from the over-hanging\nbranches of which he might spring upon his unsuspecting prey; but,\nthough there was no tree, the idea gave birth to a plan.  The eaves of\nthe hut were just above the heads of the sentries--from them he could\nleap upon the Tarmangani, unseen.  A quick snap of those mighty jaws\nwould dispose of one of them before the other realized that they were\nattacked, and the second would fall an easy prey to the strength,\nagility and ferocity of a second quick charge.\n\nTaglat withdrew a few paces to the rear of the hut, gathered himself\nfor the effort, ran quickly forward and leaped high into the air.  He\nstruck the roof directly above the rear wall of the hut, and the\nstructure, reinforced by the wall beneath, held his enormous weight for\nan instant, then he moved forward a step, the roof sagged, the\nthatching parted and the great anthropoid shot through into the\ninterior.\n\nThe sentries, hearing the crashing of the roof poles, leaped to their\nfeet and rushed into the hut.  Jane Clayton tried to roll aside as the\ngreat form lit upon the floor so close to her that one foot pinned her\nclothing to the ground.\n\nThe ape, feeling the movement beside him, reached down and gathered the\ngirl in the hollow of one mighty arm.  The burnoose covered the hairy\nbody so that Jane Clayton believed that a human arm supported her, and\nfrom the extremity of hopelessness a great hope sprang into her breast\nthat at last she was in the keeping of a rescuer.\n\nThe two sentries were now within the hut, but hesitating because of\ndoubt as to the nature of the cause of the disturbance.  Their eyes,\nnot yet accustomed to the darkness of the interior, told them nothing,\nnor did they hear any sound, for the ape stood silently awaiting their\nattack.\n\nSeeing that they stood without advancing, and realizing that,\nhandicapped as he was by the weight of the she, he could put up but a\npoor battle, Taglat elected to risk a sudden break for liberty.\nLowering his head, he charged straight for the two sentries who blocked\nthe doorway.  The impact of his mighty shoulders bowled them over upon\ntheir backs, and before they could scramble to their feet, the ape was\ngone, darting in the shadows of the huts toward the palisade at the far\nend of the village.\n\nThe speed and strength of her rescuer filled Jane Clayton with wonder.\nCould it be that Tarzan had survived the bullet of the Arab?  Who else\nin all the jungle could bear the weight of a grown woman as lightly as\nhe who held her?  She spoke his name; but there was no response.  Still\nshe did not give up hope.\n\nAt the palisade the beast did not even hesitate.  A single mighty leap\ncarried it to the top, where it poised but for an instant before\ndropping to the ground upon the opposite side.  Now the girl was almost\npositive that she was safe in the arms of her husband, and when the ape\ntook to the trees and bore her swiftly into the jungle, as Tarzan had\ndone at other times in the past, belief became conviction.\n\nIn a little moonlit glade, a mile or so from the camp of the raiders,\nher rescuer halted and dropped her to the ground.  His roughness\nsurprised her, but still she had no doubts.  Again she called him by\nname, and at the same instant the ape, fretting under the restraints of\nthe unaccustomed garments of the Tarmangani, tore the burnoose from\nhim, revealing to the eyes of the horror-struck woman the hideous face\nand hairy form of a giant anthropoid.\n\nWith a piteous wail of terror, Jane Clayton swooned, while, from the\nconcealment of a nearby bush, Numa, the lion, eyed the pair hungrily\nand licked his chops.\n\n\nTarzan, entering the tent of Achmet Zek, searched the interior\nthoroughly.  He tore the bed to pieces and scattered the contents of\nbox and bag about the floor.  He investigated whatever his eyes\ndiscovered, nor did those keen organs overlook a single article within\nthe habitation of the raider chief; but no pouch or pretty pebbles\nrewarded his thoroughness.\n\nSatisfied at last that his belongings were not in the possession of\nAchmet Zek, unless they were on the person of the chief himself, Tarzan\ndecided to secure the person of the she before further prosecuting his\nsearch for the pouch.\n\nMotioning for Chulk to follow him, he passed out of the tent by the\nsame way that he had entered it, and walking boldly through the\nvillage, made directly for the hut where Jane Clayton had been\nimprisoned.\n\nHe noted with surprise the absence of Taglat, whom he had expected to\nfind awaiting him outside the tent of Achmet Zek; but, accustomed as he\nwas to the unreliability of apes, he gave no serious attention to the\npresent defection of his surly companion.  So long as Taglat did not\ncause interference with his plans, Tarzan was indifferent to his\nabsence.\n\nAs he approached the hut, the ape-man noticed that a crowd had\ncollected about the entrance.  He could see that the men who composed\nit were much excited, and fearing lest Chulk's disguise should prove\ninadequate to the concealment of his true identity in the face of so\nmany observers, he commanded the ape to betake himself to the far end\nof the village, and there await him.\n\nAs Chulk waddled off, keeping to the shadows, Tarzan advanced boldly\ntoward the excited group before the doorway of the hut.  He mingled\nwith the blacks and the Arabs in an endeavor to learn the cause of the\ncommotion, in his interest forgetting that he alone of the assemblage\ncarried a spear, a bow and arrows, and thus might become an object of\nsuspicious attention.\n\nShouldering his way through the crowd he approached the doorway, and\nhad almost reached it when one of the Arabs laid a hand upon his\nshoulder, crying: \"Who is this?\" at the same time snatching back the\nhood from the ape-man's face.\n\nTarzan of the Apes in all his savage life had never been accustomed to\npause in argument with an antagonist.  The primitive instinct of\nself-preservation acknowledges many arts and wiles; but argument is not\none of them, nor did he now waste precious time in an attempt to\nconvince the raiders that he was not a wolf in sheep's clothing.\nInstead he had his unmasker by the throat ere the man's words had\nscarce quitted his lips, and hurling him from side to side brushed away\nthose who would have swarmed upon him.\n\nUsing the Arab as a weapon, Tarzan forced his way quickly to the\ndoorway, and a moment later was within the hut.  A hasty examination\nrevealed the fact that it was empty, and his sense of smell discovered,\ntoo, the scent spoor of Taglat, the ape.  Tarzan uttered a low, ominous\ngrowl.  Those who were pressing forward at the doorway to seize him,\nfell back as the savage notes of the bestial challenge smote upon their\nears.  They looked at one another in surprise and consternation.  A man\nhad entered the hut alone, and yet with their own ears they had heard\nthe voice of a wild beast within.  What could it mean?  Had a lion or a\nleopard sought sanctuary in the interior, unbeknown to the sentries?\n\nTarzan's quick eyes discovered the opening in the roof, through which\nTaglat had fallen.  He guessed that the ape had either come or gone by\nway of the break, and while the Arabs hesitated without, he sprang,\ncatlike, for the opening, grasped the top of the wall and clambered out\nupon the roof, dropping instantly to the ground at the rear of the hut.\n\nWhen the Arabs finally mustered courage to enter the hut, after firing\nseveral volleys through the walls, they found the interior deserted.\nAt the same time Tarzan, at the far end of the village, sought for\nChulk; but the ape was nowhere to be found.\n\nRobbed of his she, deserted by his companions, and as much in ignorance\nas ever as to the whereabouts of his pouch and pebbles, it was an angry\nTarzan who climbed the palisade and vanished into the darkness of the\njungle.\n\nFor the present he must give up the search for his pouch, since it\nwould be paramount to self-destruction to enter the Arab camp now while\nall its inhabitants were aroused and upon the alert.\n\nIn his escape from the village, the ape-man had lost the spoor of the\nfleeing Taglat, and now he circled widely through the forest in an\nendeavor to again pick it up.\n\nChulk had remained at his post until the cries and shots of the Arabs\nhad filled his simple soul with terror, for above all things the ape\nfolk fear the thunder-sticks of the Tarmangani; then he had clambered\nnimbly over the palisade, tearing his burnoose in the effort, and fled\ninto the depths of the jungle, grumbling and scolding as he went.\n\nTarzan, roaming the jungle in search of the trail of Taglat and the\nshe, traveled swiftly.  In a little moonlit glade ahead of him the\ngreat ape was bending over the prostrate form of the woman Tarzan\nsought.  The beast was tearing at the bonds that confined her ankles\nand wrists, pulling and gnawing upon the cords.\n\nThe course the ape-man was taking would carry him but a short distance\nto the right of them, and though he could not have seen them the wind\nwas bearing down from them to him, carrying their scent spoor strongly\ntoward him.\n\nA moment more and Jane Clayton's safety might have been assured, even\nthough Numa, the lion, was already gathering himself in preparation for\na charge; but Fate, already all too cruel, now outdid herself--the wind\nveered suddenly for a few moments, the scent spoor that would have led\nthe ape-man to the girl's side was wafted in the opposite direction;\nTarzan passed within fifty yards of the tragedy that was being enacted\nin the glade, and the opportunity was gone beyond recall.\n\n\n\n\n18\n\nThe Fight For the Treasure\n\n\nIt was morning before Tarzan could bring himself to a realization of\nthe possibility of failure of his quest, and even then he would only\nadmit that success was but delayed.  He would eat and sleep, and then\nset forth again.  The jungle was wide; but wide too were the experience\nand cunning of Tarzan.  Taglat might travel far; but Tarzan would find\nhim in the end, though he had to search every tree in the mighty forest.\n\nSoliloquizing thus, the ape-man followed the spoor of Bara, the deer,\nthe unfortunate upon which he had decided to satisfy his hunger.  For\nhalf an hour the trail led the ape-man toward the east along a\nwell-marked game path, when suddenly, to the stalker's astonishment,\nthe quarry broke into sight, racing madly back along the narrow way\nstraight toward the hunter.\n\nTarzan, who had been following along the trail, leaped so quickly to\nthe concealing verdure at the side that the deer was still unaware of\nthe presence of an enemy in this direction, and while the animal was\nstill some distance away, the ape-man swung into the lower branches of\nthe tree which overhung the trail.  There he crouched, a savage beast\nof prey, awaiting the coming of its victim.\n\nWhat had frightened the deer into so frantic a retreat, Tarzan did not\nknow--Numa, the lion, perhaps, or Sheeta, the panther; but whatsoever\nit was mattered little to Tarzan of the Apes--he was ready and willing\nto defend his kill against any other denizen of the jungle.  If he were\nunable to do it by means of physical prowess, he had at his command\nanother and a greater power--his shrewd intelligence.\n\nAnd so, on came the running deer, straight into the jaws of death.  The\nape-man turned so that his back was toward the approaching animal.  He\npoised with bent knees upon the gently swaying limb above the trail,\ntiming with keen ears the nearing hoof beats of frightened Bara.\n\nIn a moment the victim flashed beneath the limb and at the same instant\nthe ape-man above sprang out and down upon its back.  The weight of the\nman's body carried the deer to the ground.  It stumbled forward once in\na futile effort to rise, and then mighty muscles dragged its head far\nback, gave the neck a vicious wrench, and Bara was dead.\n\nQuick had been the killing, and equally quick were the ape-man's\nsubsequent actions, for who might know what manner of killer pursued\nBara, or how close at hand he might be?  Scarce had the neck of the\nvictim snapped than the carcass was hanging over one of Tarzan's broad\nshoulders, and an instant later the ape-man was perched once more among\nthe lower branches of a tree above the trail, his keen, gray eyes\nscanning the pathway down which the deer had fled.\n\nNor was it long before the cause of Bara's fright became evident to\nTarzan, for presently came the unmistakable sounds of approaching\nhorsemen.  Dragging his kill after him the ape-man ascended to the\nmiddle terrace, and settling himself comfortably in the crotch of a\ntree where he could still view the trail beneath, cut a juicy steak\nfrom the deer's loin, and burying his strong, white teeth in the hot\nflesh proceeded to enjoy the fruits of his prowess and his cunning.\n\nNor did he neglect the trail beneath while he satisfied his hunger.\nHis sharp eyes saw the muzzle of the leading horse as it came into view\naround a bend in the tortuous trail, and one by one they scrutinized\nthe riders as they passed beneath him in single file.\n\nAmong them came one whom Tarzan recognized, but so schooled was the\nape-man in the control of his emotions that no slightest change of\nexpression, much less any hysterical demonstration that might have\nrevealed his presence, betrayed the fact of his inward excitement.\n\nBeneath him, as unconscious of his presence as were the Abyssinians\nbefore and behind him, rode Albert Werper, while the ape-man\nscrutinized the Belgian for some sign of the pouch which he had stolen.\n\nAs the Abyssinians rode toward the south, a giant figure hovered ever\nupon their trail--a huge, almost naked white man, who carried the\nbloody carcass of a deer upon his shoulders, for Tarzan knew that he\nmight not have another opportunity to hunt for some time if he were to\nfollow the Belgian.\n\nTo endeavor to snatch him from the midst of the armed horsemen, not\neven Tarzan would attempt other than in the last extremity, for the way\nof the wild is the way of caution and cunning, unless they be aroused\nto rashness by pain or anger.\n\nSo the Abyssinians and the Belgian marched southward and Tarzan of the\nApes swung silently after them through the swaying branches of the\nmiddle terrace.\n\nA two days' march brought them to a level plain beyond which lay\nmountains--a plain which Tarzan remembered and which aroused within him\nvague half memories and strange longings.  Out upon the plain the\nhorsemen rode, and at a safe distance behind them crept the ape-man,\ntaking advantage of such cover as the ground afforded.\n\nBeside a charred pile of timbers the Abyssinians halted, and Tarzan,\nsneaking close and concealing himself in nearby shrubbery, watched them\nin wonderment.  He saw them digging up the earth, and he wondered if\nthey had hidden meat there in the past and now had come for it.  Then\nhe recalled how he had buried his pretty pebbles, and the suggestion\nthat had caused him to do it.  They were digging for the things the\nblacks had buried here!\n\nPresently he saw them uncover a dirty, yellow object, and he witnessed\nthe joy of Werper and of Abdul Mourak as the grimy object was exposed\nto view.  One by one they unearthed many similar pieces, all of the\nsame uniform, dirty yellow, until a pile of them lay upon the ground, a\npile which Abdul Mourak fondled and petted in an ecstasy of greed.\n\nSomething stirred in the ape-man's mind as he looked long upon the\ngolden ingots.  Where had he seen such before?  What were they?  Why\ndid these Tarmangani covet them so greatly?  To whom did they belong?\n\nHe recalled the black men who had buried them.  The things must be\ntheirs.  Werper was stealing them as he had stolen Tarzan's pouch of\npebbles.  The ape-man's eyes blazed in anger.  He would like to find\nthe black men and lead them against these thieves.  He wondered where\ntheir village might be.\n\nAs all these things ran through the active mind, a party of men moved\nout of the forest at the edge of the plain and advanced toward the\nruins of the burned bungalow.\n\nAbdul Mourak, always watchful, was the first to see them, but already\nthey were halfway across the open.  He called to his men to mount and\nhold themselves in readiness, for in the heart of Africa who may know\nwhether a strange host be friend or foe?\n\nWerper, swinging into his saddle, fastened his eyes upon the newcomers,\nthen, white and trembling he turned toward Abdul Mourak.\n\n\"It is Achmet Zek and his raiders,\" he whispered.  \"They are come for\nthe gold.\"\n\nIt must have been at about the same instant that Achmet Zek discovered\nthe pile of yellow ingots and realized the actuality of what he had\nalready feared since first his eyes had alighted upon the party beside\nthe ruins of the Englishman's bungalow.  Someone had forestalled\nhim--another had come for the treasure ahead of him.\n\nThe Arab was crazed by rage.  Recently everything had gone against him.\nHe had lost the jewels, the Belgian, and for the second time he had\nlost the Englishwoman.  Now some one had come to rob him of this\ntreasure which he had thought as safe from disturbance here as though\nit never had been mined.\n\nHe cared not whom the thieves might be.  They would not give up the\ngold without a battle, of that he was certain, and with a wild whoop\nand a command to his followers, Achmet Zek put spurs to his horse and\ndashed down upon the Abyssinians, and after him, waving their long guns\nabove their heads, yelling and cursing, came his motley horde of\ncut-throat followers.\n\nThe men of Abdul Mourak met them with a volley which emptied a few\nsaddles, and then the raiders were among them, and sword, pistol and\nmusket, each was doing its most hideous and bloody work.\n\nAchmet Zek, spying Werper at the first charge, bore down upon the\nBelgian, and the latter, terrified by contemplation of the fate he\ndeserved, turned his horse's head and dashed madly away in an effort to\nescape.  Shouting to a lieutenant to take command, and urging him upon\npain of death to dispatch the Abyssinians and bring the gold back to\nhis camp, Achmet Zek set off across the plain in pursuit of the\nBelgian, his wicked nature unable to forego the pleasures of revenge,\neven at the risk of sacrificing the treasure.\n\nAs the pursued and the pursuer raced madly toward the distant forest\nthe battle behind them raged with bloody savageness.  No quarter was\nasked or given by either the ferocious Abyssinians or the murderous\ncut-throats of Achmet Zek.\n\nFrom the concealment of the shrubbery Tarzan watched the sanguinary\nconflict which so effectually surrounded him that he found no loop-hole\nthrough which he might escape to follow Werper and the Arab chief.\n\nThe Abyssinians were formed in a circle which included Tarzan's\nposition, and around and into them galloped the yelling raiders, now\ndarting away, now charging in to deliver thrusts and cuts with their\ncurved swords.\n\nNumerically the men of Achmet Zek were superior, and slowly but surely\nthe soldiers of Menelek were being exterminated.  To Tarzan the result\nwas immaterial.  He watched with but a single purpose--to escape the\nring of blood-mad fighters and be away after the Belgian and his pouch.\n\nWhen he had first discovered Werper upon the trail where he had slain\nBara, he had thought that his eyes must be playing him false, so\ncertain had he been that the thief had been slain and devoured by Numa;\nbut after following the detachment for two days, with his keen eyes\nalways upon the Belgian, he no longer doubted the identity of the man,\nthough he was put to it to explain the identity of the mutilated corpse\nhe had supposed was the man he sought.\n\nAs he crouched in hiding among the unkempt shrubbery which so short a\nwhile since had been the delight and pride of the wife he no longer\nrecalled, an Arab and an Abyssinian wheeled their mounts close to his\nposition as they slashed at each other with their swords.\n\nStep by step the Arab beat back his adversary until the latter's horse\nall but trod upon the ape-man, and then a vicious cut clove the black\nwarrior's skull, and the corpse toppled backward almost upon Tarzan.\n\nAs the Abyssinian tumbled from his saddle the possibility of escape\nwhich was represented by the riderless horse electrified the ape-man to\ninstant action.  Before the frightened beast could gather himself for\nflight a naked giant was astride his back.  A strong hand had grasped\nhis bridle rein, and the surprised Arab discovered a new foe in the\nsaddle of him, whom he had slain.\n\nBut this enemy wielded no sword, and his spear and bow remained upon\nhis back.  The Arab, recovered from his first surprise, dashed in with\nraised sword to annihilate this presumptuous stranger.  He aimed a\nmighty blow at the ape-man's head, a blow which swung harmlessly\nthrough thin air as Tarzan ducked from its path, and then the Arab felt\nthe other's horse brushing his leg, a great arm shot out and encircled\nhis waist, and before he could recover himself he was dragged from his\nsaddle, and forming a shield for his antagonist was borne at a mad run\nstraight through the encircling ranks of his fellows.\n\nJust beyond them he was tossed aside upon the ground, and the last he\nsaw of his strange foeman the latter was galloping off across the plain\nin the direction of the forest at its farther edge.\n\nFor another hour the battle raged nor did it cease until the last of\nthe Abyssinians lay dead upon the ground, or had galloped off toward\nthe north in flight.  But a handful of men escaped, among them Abdul\nMourak.\n\nThe victorious raiders collected about the pile of golden ingots which\nthe Abyssinians had uncovered, and there awaited the return of their\nleader.  Their exultation was slightly tempered by the glimpse they had\nhad of the strange apparition of the naked white man galloping away\nupon the horse of one of their foemen and carrying a companion who was\nnow among them expatiating upon the superhuman strength of the ape-man.\nNone of them there but was familiar with the name and fame of Tarzan of\nthe Apes, and the fact that they had recognized the white giant as the\nferocious enemy of the wrongdoers of the jungle, added to their terror,\nfor they had been assured that Tarzan was dead.\n\nNaturally superstitious, they fully believed that they had seen the\ndisembodied spirit of the dead man, and now they cast fearful glances\nabout them in expectation of the ghost's early return to the scene of\nthe ruin they had inflicted upon him during their recent raid upon his\nhome, and discussed in affrighted whispers the probable nature of the\nvengeance which the spirit would inflict upon them should he return to\nfind them in possession of his gold.\n\nAs they conversed their terror grew, while from the concealment of the\nreeds along the river below them a small party of naked, black warriors\nwatched their every move.  From the heights beyond the river these\nblack men had heard the noise of the conflict, and creeping warily down\nto the stream had forded it and advanced through the reeds until they\nwere in a position to watch every move of the combatants.\n\nFor a half hour the raiders awaited Achmet Zek's return, their fear of\nthe earlier return of the ghost of Tarzan constantly undermining their\nloyalty to and fear of their chief.  Finally one among them voiced the\ndesires of all when he announced that he intended riding forth toward\nthe forest in search of Achmet Zek.  Instantly every man of them sprang\nto his mount.\n\n\"The gold will be safe here,\" cried one.  \"We have killed the\nAbyssinians and there are no others to carry it away.  Let us ride in\nsearch of Achmet Zek!\"\n\nAnd a moment later, amidst a cloud of dust, the raiders were galloping\nmadly across the plain, and out from the concealment of the reeds along\nthe river, crept a party of black warriors toward the spot where the\ngolden ingots of Opar lay piled on the ground.\n\nWerper had still been in advance of Achmet Zek when he reached the\nforest; but the latter, better mounted, was gaining upon him.  Riding\nwith the reckless courage of desperation the Belgian urged his mount to\ngreater speed even within the narrow confines of the winding, game\ntrail that the beast was following.\n\nBehind him he could hear the voice of Achmet Zek crying to him to halt;\nbut Werper only dug the spurs deeper into the bleeding sides of his\npanting mount.  Two hundred yards within the forest a broken branch lay\nacross the trail.  It was a small thing that a horse might ordinarily\ntake in his natural stride without noticing its presence; but Werper's\nhorse was jaded, his feet were heavy with weariness, and as the branch\ncaught between his front legs he stumbled, was unable to recover\nhimself, and went down, sprawling in the trail.\n\nWerper, going over his head, rolled a few yards farther on, scrambled\nto his feet and ran back.  Seizing the reins he tugged to drag the\nbeast to his feet; but the animal would not or could not rise, and as\nthe Belgian cursed and struck at him, Achmet Zek appeared in view.\n\nInstantly the Belgian ceased his efforts with the dying animal at his\nfeet, and seizing his rifle, dropped behind the horse and fired at the\noncoming Arab.\n\nHis bullet, going low, struck Achmet Zek's horse in the breast,\nbringing him down a hundred yards from where Werper lay preparing to\nfire a second shot.\n\nThe Arab, who had gone down with his mount, was standing astride him,\nand seeing the Belgian's strategic position behind his fallen horse,\nlost no time in taking up a similar one behind his own.\n\nAnd there the two lay, alternately firing at and cursing each other,\nwhile from behind the Arab, Tarzan of the Apes approached to the edge\nof the forest.  Here he heard the occasional shots of the duelists, and\nchoosing the safer and swifter avenue of the forest branches to the\nuncertain transportation afforded by a half-broken Abyssinian pony,\ntook to the trees.\n\nKeeping to one side of the trail, the ape-man came presently to a point\nwhere he could look down in comparative safety upon the fighters.\nFirst one and then the other would partially raise himself above his\nbreastwork of horseflesh, fire his weapon and immediately drop flat\nbehind his shelter, where he would reload and repeat the act a moment\nlater.\n\nWerper had but little ammunition, having been hastily armed by Abdul\nMourak from the body of one of the first of the Abyssinians who had\nfallen in the fight about the pile of ingots, and now he realized that\nsoon he would have used his last bullet, and be at the mercy of the\nArab--a mercy with which he was well acquainted.\n\nFacing both death and despoilment of his treasure, the Belgian cast\nabout for some plan of escape, and the only one that appealed to him as\ncontaining even a remote possibility of success hinged upon the chance\nof bribing Achmet Zek.\n\nWerper had fired all but a single cartridge, when, during a lull in the\nfighting, he called aloud to his opponent.\n\n\"Achmet Zek,\" he cried, \"Allah alone knows which one of us may leave\nour bones to rot where he lies upon this trail today if we keep up our\nfoolish battle.  You wish the contents of the pouch I wear about my\nwaist, and I wish my life and my liberty even more than I do the\njewels.  Let us each, then, take that which he most desires and go our\nseparate ways in peace.  I will lay the pouch upon the carcass of my\nhorse, where you may see it, and you, in turn, will lay your gun upon\nyour horse, with butt toward me.  Then I will go away, leaving the\npouch to you, and you will let me go in safety.  I want only my life,\nand my freedom.\"\n\nThe Arab thought in silence for a moment.  Then he spoke. His reply was\ninfluenced by the fact that he had expended his last shot.\n\n\"Go your way, then,\" he growled, \"leaving the pouch in plain sight\nbehind you.  See, I lay my gun thus, with the butt toward you.  Go.\"\n\nWerper removed the pouch from about his waist.  Sorrowfully and\naffectionately he let his fingers press the hard outlines of the\ncontents.  Ah, if he could extract a little handful of the precious\nstones!  But Achmet Zek was standing now, his eagle eyes commanding a\nplain view of the Belgian and his every act.\n\nRegretfully Werper laid the pouch, its contents undisturbed, upon the\nbody of his horse, rose, and taking his rifle with him, backed slowly\ndown the trail until a turn hid him from the view of the watchful Arab.\n\nEven then Achmet Zek did not advance, fearful as he was of some such\ntreachery as he himself might have been guilty of under like\ncircumstances; nor were his suspicions groundless, for the Belgian, no\nsooner had he passed out of the range of the Arab's vision, halted\nbehind the bole of a tree, where he still commanded an unobstructed\nview of his dead horse and the pouch, and raising his rifle covered the\nspot where the other's body must appear when he came forward to seize\nthe treasure.\n\nBut Achmet Zek was no fool to expose himself to the blackened honor of\na thief and a murderer.  Taking his long gun with him, he left the\ntrail, entering the rank and tangled vegetation which walled it, and\ncrawling slowly forward on hands and knees he paralleled the trail; but\nnever for an instant was his body exposed to the rifle of the hidden\nassassin.\n\nThus Achmet Zek advanced until he had come opposite the dead horse of\nhis enemy.  The pouch lay there in full view, while a short distance\nalong the trail, Werper waited in growing impatience and nervousness,\nwondering why the Arab did not come to claim his reward.\n\nPresently he saw the muzzle of a rifle appear suddenly and mysteriously\na few inches above the pouch, and before he could realize the cunning\ntrick that the Arab had played upon him the sight of the weapon was\nadroitly hooked into the rawhide thong which formed the carrying strap\nof the pouch, and the latter was drawn quickly from his view into the\ndense foliage at the trail's side.\n\nNot for an instant had the raider exposed a square inch of his body,\nand Werper dared not fire his one remaining shot unless every chance of\na successful hit was in his favor.\n\nChuckling to himself, Achmet Zek withdrew a few paces farther into the\njungle, for he was as positive that Werper was waiting nearby for a\nchance to pot him as though his eyes had penetrated the jungle trees to\nthe figure of the hiding Belgian, fingering his rifle behind the bole\nof the buttressed giant.\n\nWerper did not dare advance--his cupidity would not permit him to\ndepart, and so he stood there, his rifle ready in his hands, his eyes\nwatching the trail before him with catlike intensity.\n\nBut there was another who had seen the pouch and recognized it, who did\nadvance with Achmet Zek, hovering above him, as silent and as sure as\ndeath itself, and as the Arab, finding a little spot less overgrown\nwith bushes than he had yet encountered, prepared to gloat his eyes\nupon the contents of the pouch, Tarzan paused directly above him,\nintent upon the same object.\n\nWetting his thin lips with his tongue, Achmet Zek loosened the tie\nstrings which closed the mouth of the pouch, and cupping one claw-like\nhand poured forth a portion of the contents into his palm.\n\nA single look he took at the stones lying in his hand.  His eyes\nnarrowed, a curse broke from his lips, and he hurled the small objects\nupon the ground, disdainfully.  Quickly he emptied the balance of the\ncontents until he had scanned each separate stone, and as he dumped\nthem all upon the ground and stamped upon them his rage grew until the\nmuscles of his face worked in demon-like fury, and his fingers clenched\nuntil his nails bit into the flesh.\n\nAbove, Tarzan watched in wonderment.  He had been curious to discover\nwhat all the pow-wow about his pouch had meant.  He wanted to see what\nthe Arab would do after the other had gone away, leaving the pouch\nbehind him, and, having satisfied his curiosity, he would then have\npounced upon Achmet Zek and taken the pouch and his pretty pebbles away\nfrom him, for did they not belong to Tarzan?\n\nHe saw the Arab now throw aside the empty pouch, and grasping his long\ngun by the barrel, clublike, sneak stealthily through the jungle beside\nthe trail along which Werper had gone.\n\nAs the man disappeared from his view, Tarzan dropped to the ground and\ncommenced gathering up the spilled contents of the pouch, and the\nmoment that he obtained his first near view of the scattered pebbles he\nunderstood the rage of the Arab, for instead of the glittering and\nscintillating gems which had first caught and held the attention of the\nape-man, the pouch now contained but a collection of ordinary river\npebbles.\n\n\n\n\n19\n\nJane Clayton and the Beasts of the Jungle\n\n\nMugambi, after his successful break for liberty, had fallen upon hard\ntimes.  His way had led him through a country with which he was\nunfamiliar, a jungle country in which he could find no water, and but\nlittle food, so that after several days of wandering he found himself\nso reduced in strength that he could barely drag himself along.\n\nIt was with growing difficulty that he found the strength necessary to\nconstruct a shelter by night wherein he might be reasonably safe from\nthe large carnivora, and by day he still further exhausted his strength\nin digging for edible roots, and searching for water.\n\nA few stagnant pools at considerable distances apart saved him from\ndeath by thirst; but his was a pitiable state when finally he stumbled\nby accident upon a large river in a country where fruit was abundant,\nand small game which he might bag by means of a combination of stealth,\ncunning, and a crude knob-stick which he had fashioned from a fallen\nlimb.\n\nRealizing that he still had a long march ahead of him before he could\nreach even the outskirts of the Waziri country, Mugambi wisely decided\nto remain where he was until he had recuperated his strength and\nhealth.  A few days' rest would accomplish wonders for him, he knew,\nand he could ill afford to sacrifice his chances for a safe return by\nsetting forth handicapped by weakness.\n\nAnd so it was that he constructed a substantial thorn boma, and rigged\na thatched shelter within it, where he might sleep by night in\nsecurity, and from which he sallied forth by day to hunt the flesh\nwhich alone could return to his giant thews their normal prowess.\n\nOne day, as he hunted, a pair of savage eyes discovered him from the\nconcealment of the branches of a great tree beneath which the black\nwarrior passed.  Bloodshot, wicked eyes they were, set in a fierce and\nhairy face.\n\nThey watched Mugambi make his little kill of a small rodent, and they\nfollowed him as he returned to his hut, their owner moving quietly\nthrough the trees upon the trail of the Negro.\n\nThe creature was Chulk, and he looked down upon the unconscious man\nmore in curiosity than in hate.  The wearing of the Arab burnoose which\nTarzan had placed upon his person had aroused in the mind of the\nanthropoid a desire for similar mimicry of the Tarmangani.  The\nburnoose, though, had obstructed his movements and proven such a\nnuisance that the ape had long since torn it from him and thrown it\naway.\n\nNow, however, he saw a Gomangani arrayed in less cumbersome apparel--a\nloin cloth, a few copper ornaments and a feather headdress.  These were\nmore in line with Chulk's desires than a flowing robe which was\nconstantly getting between one's legs, and catching upon every limb and\nbush along the leafy trail.\n\nChulk eyed the pouch, which, suspended over Mugambi's shoulder, swung\nbeside his black hip.  This took his fancy, for it was ornamented with\nfeathers and a fringe, and so the ape hung about Mugambi's boma,\nwaiting an opportunity to seize either by stealth or might some object\nof the black's apparel.\n\nNor was it long before the opportunity came.  Feeling safe within his\nthorny enclosure, Mugambi was wont to stretch himself in the shade of\nhis shelter during the heat of the day, and sleep in peaceful security\nuntil the declining sun carried with it the enervating temperature of\nmidday.\n\nWatching from above, Chulk saw the black warrior stretched thus in the\nunconsciousness of sleep one sultry afternoon.  Creeping out upon an\noverhanging branch the anthropoid dropped to the ground within the\nboma.  He approached the sleeper upon padded feet which gave forth no\nsound, and with an uncanny woodcraft that rustled not a leaf or a grass\nblade.\n\nPausing beside the man, the ape bent over and examined his belongings.\nGreat as was the strength of Chulk there lay in the back of his little\nbrain a something which deterred him from arousing the man to combat--a\nsense that is inherent in all the lower orders, a strange fear of man,\nthat rules even the most powerful of the jungle creatures at times.\n\nTo remove Mugambi's loin cloth without awakening him would be\nimpossible, and the only detachable things were the knob-stick and the\npouch, which had fallen from the black's shoulder as he rolled in sleep.\n\nSeizing these two articles, as better than nothing at all, Chulk\nretreated with haste, and every indication of nervous terror, to the\nsafety of the tree from which he had dropped, and, still haunted by\nthat indefinable terror which the close proximity of man awakened in\nhis breast, fled precipitately through the jungle.  Aroused by attack,\nor supported by the presence of another of his kind, Chulk could have\nbraved the presence of a score of human beings, but alone--ah, that was\na different matter--alone, and unenraged.\n\nIt was some time after Mugambi awoke that he missed the pouch.\nInstantly he was all excitement.  What could have become of it?  It had\nbeen at his side when he lay down to sleep--of that he was certain, for\nhad he not pushed it from beneath him when its bulging bulk, pressing\nagainst his ribs, caused him discomfort?  Yes, it had been there when\nhe lay down to sleep.  How then had it vanished?\n\nMugambi's savage imagination was filled with visions of the spirits of\ndeparted friends and enemies, for only to the machinations of such as\nthese could he attribute the disappearance of his pouch and knob-stick\nin the first excitement of the discovery of their loss; but later and\nmore careful investigation, such as his woodcraft made possible,\nrevealed indisputable evidence of a more material explanation than his\nexcited fancy and superstition had at first led him to accept.\n\nIn the trampled turf beside him was the faint impress of huge, manlike\nfeet.  Mugambi raised his brows as the truth dawned upon him.  Hastily\nleaving the boma he searched in all directions about the enclosure for\nsome further sign of the tell-tale spoor.  He climbed trees and sought\nfor evidence of the direction of the thief's flight; but the faint\nsigns left by a wary ape who elects to travel through the trees eluded\nthe woodcraft of Mugambi.  Tarzan might have followed them; but no\nordinary mortal could perceive them, or perceiving, translate.\n\nThe black, now strengthened and refreshed by his rest, felt ready to\nset out again for Waziri, and finding himself another knob-stick,\nturned his back upon the river and plunged into the mazes of the jungle.\n\nAs Taglat struggled with the bonds which secured the ankles and wrists\nof his captive, the great lion that eyed the two from behind a nearby\nclump of bushes wormed closer to his intended prey.\n\nThe ape's back was toward the lion.  He did not see the broad head,\nfringed by its rough mane, protruding through the leafy wall.  He could\nnot know that the powerful hind paws were gathering close beneath the\ntawny belly preparatory to a sudden spring, and his first intimation of\nimpending danger was the thunderous and triumphant roar which the\ncharging lion could no longer suppress.\n\nScarce pausing for a backward glance, Taglat abandoned the unconscious\nwoman and fled in the opposite direction from the horrid sound which\nhad broken in so unexpected and terrifying a manner upon his startled\nears; but the warning had come too late to save him, and the lion, in\nhis second bound, alighted full upon the broad shoulders of the\nanthropoid.\n\nAs the great bull went down there was awakened in him to the full all\nthe cunning, all the ferocity, all the physical prowess which obey the\nmightiest of the fundamental laws of nature, the law of\nself-preservation, and turning upon his back he closed with the\ncarnivore in a death struggle so fearless and abandoned, that for a\nmoment the great Numa himself may have trembled for the outcome.\n\nSeizing the lion by the mane, Taglat buried his yellowed fangs deep in\nthe monster's throat, growling hideously through the muffled gag of\nblood and hair.  Mixed with the ape's voice the lion's roars of rage\nand pain reverberated through the jungle, till the lesser creatures of\nthe wild, startled from their peaceful pursuits, scurried fearfully\naway.\n\nRolling over and over upon the turf the two battled with demoniac fury,\nuntil the colossal cat, by doubling his hind paws far up beneath his\nbelly sank his talons deep into Taglat's chest, then, ripping downward\nwith all his strength, Numa accomplished his design, and the\ndisemboweled anthropoid, with a last spasmodic struggle, relaxed in\nlimp and bloody dissolution beneath his titanic adversary.\n\nScrambling to his feet, Numa looked about quickly in all directions, as\nthough seeking to detect the possible presence of other foes; but only\nthe still and unconscious form of the girl, lying a few paces from him\nmet his gaze, and with an angry growl he placed a forepaw upon the body\nof his kill and raising his head gave voice to his savage victory cry.\n\nFor another moment he stood with fierce eyes roving to and fro about\nthe clearing.  At last they halted for a second time upon the girl.  A\nlow growl rumbled from the lion's throat.  His lower jaw rose and fell,\nand the slaver drooled and dripped upon the dead face of Taglat.\n\nLike two yellow-green augurs, wide and unblinking, the terrible eyes\nremained fixed upon Jane Clayton.  The erect and majestic pose of the\ngreat frame shrank suddenly into a sinister crouch as, slowly and\ngently as one who treads on eggs, the devil-faced cat crept forward\ntoward the girl.\n\nBeneficent Fate maintained her in happy unconsciousness of the dread\npresence sneaking stealthily upon her.  She did not know when the lion\npaused at her side.  She did not hear the sniffing of his nostrils as\nhe smelled about her.  She did not feel the heat of the fetid breath\nupon her face, nor the dripping of the saliva from the frightful jaws\nhalf opened so close above her.\n\nFinally the lion lifted a forepaw and turned the body of the girl half\nover, then he stood again eyeing her as though still undetermined\nwhether life was extinct or not.  Some noise or odor from the nearby\njungle attracted his attention for a moment.  His eyes did not again\nreturn to Jane Clayton, and presently he left her, walked over to the\nremains of Taglat, and crouching down upon his kill with his back\ntoward the girl, proceeded to devour the ape.\n\nIt was upon this scene that Jane Clayton at last opened her eyes.\nInured to danger, she maintained her self-possession in the face of the\nstartling surprise which her new-found consciousness revealed to her.\nShe neither cried out nor moved a muscle, until she had taken in every\ndetail of the scene which lay within the range of her vision.\n\nShe saw that the lion had killed the ape, and that he was devouring his\nprey less than fifty feet from where she lay; but what could she do?\nHer hands and feet were bound.  She must wait then, in what patience\nshe could command, until Numa had eaten and digested the ape, when,\nwithout doubt, he would return to feast upon her, unless, in the\nmeantime, the dread hyenas should discover her, or some other of the\nnumerous prowling carnivora of the jungle.\n\nAs she lay tormented by these frightful thoughts, she suddenly became\nconscious that the bonds at her wrists and ankles no longer hurt her,\nand then of the fact that her hands were separated, one lying upon\neither side of her, instead of both being confined at her back.\n\nWonderingly she moved a hand.  What miracle had been performed?  It was\nnot bound!  Stealthily and noiselessly she moved her other limbs, only\nto discover that she was free.  She could not know how the thing had\nhappened, that Taglat, gnawing upon them for sinister purposes of his\nown, had cut them through but an instant before Numa had frightened him\nfrom his victim.\n\nFor a moment Jane Clayton was overwhelmed with joy and thanksgiving;\nbut only for a moment.  What good was her new-found liberty in the face\nof the frightful beast crouching so close beside her?  If she could\nhave had this chance under different conditions, how happily she would\nhave taken advantage of it; but now it was given to her when escape was\npractically impossible.\n\nThe nearest tree was a hundred feet away, the lion less than fifty.  To\nrise and attempt to reach the safety of those tantalizing branches\nwould be but to invite instant destruction, for Numa would doubtless be\ntoo jealous of this future meal to permit it to escape with ease.  And\nyet, too, there was another possibility--a chance which hinged entirely\nupon the unknown temper of the great beast.\n\nHis belly already partially filled, he might watch with indifference\nthe departure of the girl; yet could she afford to chance so improbable\na contingency?  She doubted it.  Upon the other hand she was no more\nminded to allow this frail opportunity for life to entirely elude her\nwithout taking or attempting to take some advantage from it.\n\nShe watched the lion narrowly.  He could not see her without turning\nhis head more than halfway around.  She would attempt a ruse.  Silently\nshe rolled over in the direction of the nearest tree, and away from the\nlion, until she lay again in the same position in which Numa had left\nher, but a few feet farther from him.\n\nHere she lay breathless watching the lion; but the beast gave no\nindication that he had heard aught to arouse his suspicions.  Again she\nrolled over, gaining a few more feet and again she lay in rigid\ncontemplation of the beast's back.\n\nDuring what seemed hours to her tense nerves, Jane Clayton continued\nthese tactics, and still the lion fed on in apparent unconsciousness\nthat his second prey was escaping him.  Already the girl was but a few\npaces from the tree--a moment more and she would be close enough to\nchance springing to her feet, throwing caution aside and making a\nsudden, bold dash for safety.  She was halfway over in her turn, her\nface away from the lion, when he suddenly turned his great head and\nfastened his eyes upon her.  He saw her roll over upon her side away\nfrom him, and then her eyes were turned again toward him, and the cold\nsweat broke from the girl's every pore as she realized that with life\nalmost within her grasp, death had found her out.\n\nFor a long time neither the girl nor the lion moved.  The beast lay\nmotionless, his head turned upon his shoulders and his glaring eyes\nfixed upon the rigid victim, now nearly fifty yards away.  The girl\nstared back straight into those cruel orbs, daring not to move even a\nmuscle.\n\nThe strain upon her nerves was becoming so unbearable that she could\nscarcely restrain a growing desire to scream, when Numa deliberately\nturned back to the business of feeding; but his back-layed ears\nattested a sinister regard for the actions of the girl behind him.\n\nRealizing that she could not again turn without attracting his\nimmediate and perhaps fatal attention, Jane Clayton resolved to risk\nall in one last attempt to reach the tree and clamber to the lower\nbranches.\n\nGathering herself stealthily for the effort, she leaped suddenly to her\nfeet, but almost simultaneously the lion sprang up, wheeled and with\nwide-distended jaws and terrific roars, charged swiftly down upon her.\n\nThose who have spent lifetimes hunting the big game of Africa will tell\nyou that scarcely any other creature in the world attains the speed of\na charging lion.  For the short distance that the great cat can\nmaintain it, it resembles nothing more closely than the onrushing of a\ngiant locomotive under full speed, and so, though the distance that\nJane Clayton must cover was relatively small, the terrific speed of the\nlion rendered her hopes of escape almost negligible.\n\nYet fear can work wonders, and though the upward spring of the lion as\nhe neared the tree into which she was scrambling brought his talons in\ncontact with her boots she eluded his raking grasp, and as he hurtled\nagainst the bole of her sanctuary, the girl drew herself into the\nsafety of the branches above his reach.\n\nFor some time the lion paced, growling and moaning, beneath the tree in\nwhich Jane Clayton crouched, panting and trembling.  The girl was a\nprey to the nervous reaction from the frightful ordeal through which\nshe had so recently passed, and in her overwrought state it seemed that\nnever again should she dare descend to the ground among the fearsome\ndangers which infested the broad stretch of jungle that she knew must\nlie between herself and the nearest village of her faithful Waziri.\n\nIt was almost dark before the lion finally quit the clearing, and even\nhad his place beside the remnants of the mangled ape not been\nimmediately usurped by a pack of hyenas, Jane Clayton would scarcely\nhave dared venture from her refuge in the face of impending night, and\nso she composed herself as best she could for the long and tiresome\nwait, until daylight might offer some means of escape from the dread\nvicinity in which she had witnessed such terrifying adventures.\n\nTired nature at last overcame even her fears, and she dropped into a\ndeep slumber, cradled in a comparatively safe, though rather\nuncomfortable, position against the bole of the tree, and supported by\ntwo large branches which grew outward, almost horizontally, but a few\ninches apart.\n\nThe sun was high in the heavens when she at last awoke, and beneath her\nwas no sign either of Numa or the hyenas.  Only the clean-picked bones\nof the ape, scattered about the ground, attested the fact of what had\ntranspired in this seemingly peaceful spot but a few hours before.\n\nBoth hunger and thirst assailed her now, and realizing that she must\ndescend or die of starvation, she at last summoned courage to undertake\nthe ordeal of continuing her journey through the jungle.\n\nDescending from the tree, she set out in a southerly direction, toward\nthe point where she believed the plains of Waziri lay, and though she\nknew that only ruin and desolation marked the spot where once her happy\nhome had stood, she hoped that by coming to the broad plain she might\neventually reach one of the numerous Waziri villages that were\nscattered over the surrounding country, or chance upon a roving band of\nthese indefatigable huntsmen.\n\nThe day was half spent when there broke unexpectedly upon her startled\nears the sound of a rifle shot not far ahead of her.  As she paused to\nlisten, this first shot was followed by another and another and\nanother.  What could it mean?  The first explanation which sprung to\nher mind attributed the firing to an encounter between the Arab raiders\nand a party of Waziri; but as she did not know upon which side victory\nmight rest, or whether she were behind friend or foe, she dared not\nadvance nearer on the chance of revealing herself to an enemy.\n\nAfter listening for several minutes she became convinced that no more\nthan two or three rifles were engaged in the fight, since nothing\napproximating the sound of a volley reached her ears; but still she\nhesitated to approach, and at last, determining to take no chance, she\nclimbed into the concealing foliage of a tree beside the trail she had\nbeen following and there fearfully awaited whatever might reveal itself.\n\nAs the firing became less rapid she caught the sound of men's voices,\nthough she could distinguish no words, and at last the reports of the\nguns ceased, and she heard two men calling to each other in loud tones.\nThen there was a long silence which was finally broken by the stealthy\npadding of footfalls on the trail ahead of her, and in another moment a\nman appeared in view backing toward her, a rifle ready in his hands,\nand his eyes directed in careful watchfulness along the way that he had\ncome.\n\nAlmost instantly Jane Clayton recognized the man as M.  Jules Frecoult,\nwho so recently had been a guest in her home.  She was upon the point\nof calling to him in glad relief when she saw him leap quickly to one\nside and hide himself in the thick verdure at the trail's side.  It was\nevident that he was being followed by an enemy, and so Jane Clayton\nkept silent, lest she distract Frecoult's attention, or guide his foe\nto his hiding place.\n\nScarcely had Frecoult hidden himself than the figure of a white-robed\nArab crept silently along the trail in pursuit.  From her hiding place,\nJane Clayton could see both men plainly.  She recognized Achmet Zek as\nthe leader of the band of ruffians who had raided her home and made her\na prisoner, and as she saw Frecoult, the supposed friend and ally,\nraise his gun and take careful aim at the Arab, her heart stood still\nand every power of her soul was directed upon a fervent prayer for the\naccuracy of his aim.\n\nAchmet Zek paused in the middle of the trail.  His keen eyes scanned\nevery bush and tree within the radius of his vision.  His tall figure\npresented a perfect target to the perfidious assassin.  There was a\nsharp report, and a little puff of smoke arose from the bush that hid\nthe Belgian, as Achmet Zek stumbled forward and pitched, face down,\nupon the trail.\n\nAs Werper stepped back into the trail, he was startled by the sound of\na glad cry from above him, and as he wheeled about to discover the\nauthor of this unexpected interruption, he saw Jane Clayton drop\nlightly from a nearby tree and run forward with outstretched hands to\ncongratulate him upon his victory.\n\n\n\n\n20\n\nJane Clayton Again a Prisoner\n\n\nThough her clothes were torn and her hair disheveled, Albert Werper\nrealized that he never before had looked upon such a vision of\nloveliness as that which Lady Greystoke presented in the relief and joy\nwhich she felt in coming so unexpectedly upon a friend and rescuer when\nhope had seemed so far away.\n\nIf the Belgian had entertained any doubts as to the woman's knowledge\nof his part in the perfidious attack upon her home and herself, it was\nquickly dissipated by the genuine friendliness of her greeting.  She\ntold him quickly of all that had befallen her since he had departed\nfrom her home, and as she spoke of the death of her husband her eyes\nwere veiled by the tears which she could not repress.\n\n\"I am shocked,\" said Werper, in well-simulated sympathy; \"but I am not\nsurprised.  That devil there,\" and he pointed toward the body of Achmet\nZek, \"has terrorized the entire country.  Your Waziri are either\nexterminated, or have been driven out of their country, far to the\nsouth.  The men of Achmet Zek occupy the plain about your former\nhome--there is neither sanctuary nor escape in that direction.  Our\nonly hope lies in traveling northward as rapidly as we may, of coming\nto the camp of the raiders before the knowledge of Achmet Zek's death\nreaches those who were left there, and of obtaining, through some ruse,\nan escort toward the north.\n\n\"I think that the thing can be accomplished, for I was a guest of the\nraider's before I knew the nature of the man, and those at the camp are\nnot aware that I turned against him when I discovered his villainy.\n\n\"Come!  We will make all possible haste to reach the camp before those\nwho accompanied Achmet Zek upon his last raid have found his body and\ncarried the news of his death to the cut-throats who remained behind.\nIt is our only hope, Lady Greystoke, and you must place your entire\nfaith in me if I am to succeed.  Wait for me here a moment while I take\nfrom the Arab's body the wallet that he stole from me,\" and Werper\nstepped quickly to the dead man's side, and, kneeling, sought with\nquick fingers the pouch of jewels.  To his consternation, there was no\nsign of them in the garments of Achmet Zek.  Rising, he walked back\nalong the trail, searching for some trace of the missing pouch or its\ncontents; but he found nothing, even though he searched carefully the\nvicinity of his dead horse, and for a few paces into the jungle on\neither side.  Puzzled, disappointed and angry, he at last returned to\nthe girl.  \"The wallet is gone,\" he explained, crisply, \"and I dare not\ndelay longer in search of it. We must reach the camp before the\nreturning raiders.\"\n\nUnsuspicious of the man's true character, Jane Clayton saw nothing\npeculiar in his plans, or in his specious explanation of his former\nfriendship for the raider, and so she grasped with alacrity the seeming\nhope for safety which he proffered her, and turning about she set out\nwith Albert Werper toward the hostile camp in which she so lately had\nbeen a prisoner.\n\nIt was late in the afternoon of the second day before they reached\ntheir destination, and as they paused upon the edge of the clearing\nbefore the gates of the walled village, Werper cautioned the girl to\naccede to whatever he might suggest by his conversation with the\nraiders.\n\n\"I shall tell them,\" he said, \"that I apprehended you after you escaped\nfrom the camp, that I took you to Achmet Zek, and that as he was\nengaged in a stubborn battle with the Waziri, he directed me to return\nto camp with you, to obtain here a sufficient guard, and to ride north\nwith you as rapidly as possible and dispose of you at the most\nadvantageous terms to a certain slave broker whose name he gave me.\"\n\nAgain the girl was deceived by the apparent frankness of the Belgian.\nShe realized that desperate situations required desperate handling, and\nthough she trembled inwardly at the thought of again entering the vile\nand hideous village of the raiders she saw no better course than that\nwhich her companion had suggested.\n\nCalling aloud to those who tended the gates, Werper, grasping Jane\nClayton by the arm, walked boldly across the clearing.  Those who\nopened the gates to him permitted their surprise to show clearly in\ntheir expressions.  That the discredited and hunted lieutenant should\nbe thus returning fearlessly of his own volition, seemed to disarm them\nquite as effectually as his manner toward Lady Greystoke had deceived\nher.\n\nThe sentries at the gate returned Werper's salutations, and viewed with\nastonishment the prisoner whom he brought into the village with him.\n\nImmediately the Belgian sought the Arab who had been left in charge of\nthe camp during Achmet Zek's absence, and again his boldness disarmed\nsuspicion and won the acceptance of his false explanation of his\nreturn.  The fact that he had brought back with him the woman prisoner\nwho had escaped, added strength to his claims, and Mohammed Beyd soon\nfound himself fraternizing good-naturedly with the very man whom he\nwould have slain without compunction had he discovered him alone in the\njungle a half hour before.\n\nJane Clayton was again confined to the prison hut she had formerly\noccupied, but as she realized that this was but a part of the deception\nwhich she and Frecoult were playing upon the credulous raiders, it was\nwith quite a different sensation that she again entered the vile and\nfilthy interior, from that which she had previously experienced, when\nhope was so far away.\n\nOnce more she was bound and sentries placed before the door of her\nprison; but before Werper left her he whispered words of cheer into her\near.  Then he left, and made his way back to the tent of Mohammed Beyd.\nHe had been wondering how long it would be before the raiders who had\nridden out with Achmet Zek would return with the murdered body of their\nchief, and the more he thought upon the matter the greater his fears\nbecame, that without accomplices his plan would fail.\n\nWhat, even, if he got away from the camp in safety before any returned\nwith the true story of his guilt--of what value would this advantage be\nother than to protract for a few days his mental torture and his life?\nThese hard riders, familiar with every trail and bypath, would get him\nlong before he could hope to reach the coast.\n\nAs these thoughts passed through his mind he entered the tent where\nMohammed Beyd sat cross-legged upon a rug, smoking.  The Arab looked up\nas the European came into his presence.\n\n\"Greetings, O Brother!\" he said.\n\n\"Greetings!\" replied Werper.\n\nFor a while neither spoke further.  The Arab was the first to break the\nsilence.\n\n\"And my master, Achmet Zek, was well when last you saw him?\" he asked.\n\n\"Never was he safer from the sins and dangers of mortality,\" replied\nthe Belgian.\n\n\"It is well,\" said Mohammed Beyd, blowing a little puff of blue smoke\nstraight out before him.\n\nAgain there was silence for several minutes.\n\n\"And if he were dead?\" asked the Belgian, determined to lead up to the\ntruth, and attempt to bribe Mohammed Beyd into his service.\n\nThe Arab's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, his gaze boring\nstraight into the eyes of the Belgian.\n\n\"I have been thinking much, Werper, since you returned so unexpectedly\nto the camp of the man whom you had deceived, and who sought you with\ndeath in his heart.  I have been with Achmet Zek for many years--his\nown mother never knew him so well as I. He never forgives--much less\nwould he again trust a man who had once betrayed him; that I know.\n\n\"I have thought much, as I said, and the result of my thinking has\nassured me that Achmet Zek is dead--for otherwise you would never have\ndared return to his camp, unless you be either a braver man or a bigger\nfool than I have imagined.  And, if this evidence of my judgment is not\nsufficient, I have but just now received from your own lips even more\nconfirmatory witness--for did you not say that Achmet Zek was never\nmore safe from the sins and dangers of mortality?\n\n\"Achmet Zek is dead--you need not deny it.  I was not his mother, or\nhis mistress, so do not fear that my wailings shall disturb you.  Tell\nme why you have come back here. Tell me what you want, and, Werper, if\nyou still possess the jewels of which Achmet Zek told me, there is no\nreason why you and I should not ride north together and divide the\nransom of the white woman and the contents of the pouch you wear about\nyour person. Eh?\"\n\nThe evil eyes narrowed, a vicious, thin-lipped smile tortured the\nvillainous face, as Mohammed Beyd grinned knowingly into the face of\nthe Belgian.\n\nWerper was both relieved and disturbed by the Arab's attitude.  The\ncomplacency with which he accepted the death of his chief lifted a\nconsiderable burden of apprehension from the shoulders of Achmet Zek's\nassassin; but his demand for a share of the jewels boded ill for Werper\nwhen Mohammed Beyd should have learned that the precious stones were no\nlonger in the Belgian's possession.\n\nTo acknowledge that he had lost the jewels might be to arouse the wrath\nor suspicion of the Arab to such an extent as would jeopardize his\nnew-found chances of escape.  His one hope seemed, then, to lie in\nfostering Mohammed Beyd's belief that the jewels were still in his\npossession, and depend upon the accidents of the future to open an\navenue of escape.\n\nCould he contrive to tent with the Arab upon the march north, he might\nfind opportunity in plenty to remove this menace to his life and\nliberty--it was worth trying, and, further, there seemed no other way\nout of his difficulty.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"Achmet Zek is dead.  He fell in battle with a company\nof Abyssinian cavalry that held me captive.  During the fighting I\nescaped; but I doubt if any of Achmet Zek's men live, and the gold they\nsought is in the possession of the Abyssinians.  Even now they are\ndoubtless marching on this camp, for they were sent by Menelek to\npunish Achmet Zek and his followers for a raid upon an Abyssinian\nvillage.  There are many of them, and if we do not make haste to escape\nwe shall all suffer the same fate as Achmet Zek.\"\n\nMohammed Beyd listened in silence.  How much of the unbeliever's story\nhe might safely believe he did not know; but as it afforded him an\nexcuse for deserting the village and making for the north he was not\ninclined to cross-question the Belgian too minutely.\n\n\"And if I ride north with you,\" he asked, \"half the jewels and half the\nransom of the woman shall be mine?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Werper.\n\n\"Good,\" said Mohammed Beyd.  \"I go now to give the order for the\nbreaking of camp early on the morrow,\" and he rose to leave the tent.\n\nWerper laid a detaining hand upon his arm.\n\n\"Wait,\" he said, \"let us determine how many shall accompany us.  It is\nnot well that we be burdened by the women and children, for then indeed\nwe might be overtaken by the Abyssinians.  It would be far better to\nselect a small guard of your bravest men, and leave word behind that we\nare riding WEST.  Then, when the Abyssinians come they will be put upon\nthe wrong trail should they have it in their hearts to pursue us, and\nif they do not they will at least ride north with less rapidity than as\nthough they thought that we were ahead of them.\"\n\n\"The serpent is less wise than thou, Werper,\" said Mohammed Beyd with a\nsmile.  \"It shall be done as you say.  Twenty men shall accompany us,\nand we shall ride WEST--when we leave the village.\"\n\n\"Good,\" cried the Belgian, and so it was arranged.\n\nEarly the next morning Jane Clayton, after an almost sleepless night,\nwas aroused by the sound of voices outside her prison, and a moment\nlater, M. Frecoult, and two Arabs entered.  The latter unbound her\nankles and lifted her to her feet.  Then her wrists were loosed, she\nwas given a handful of dry bread, and led out into the faint light of\ndawn.\n\nShe looked questioningly at Frecoult, and at a moment that the Arab's\nattention was attracted in another direction the man leaned toward her\nand whispered that all was working out as he had planned.  Thus\nassured, the young woman felt a renewal of the hope which the long and\nmiserable night of bondage had almost expunged.\n\nShortly after, she was lifted to the back of a horse, and surrounded by\nArabs, was escorted through the gateway of the village and off into the\njungle toward the west.  Half an hour later the party turned north, and\nnortherly was their direction for the balance of the march.\n\nM. Frecoult spoke with her but seldom, and she understood that in\ncarrying out his deception he must maintain the semblance of her\ncaptor, rather than protector, and so she suspected nothing though she\nsaw the friendly relations which seemed to exist between the European\nand the Arab leader of the band.\n\nIf Werper succeeded in keeping himself from conversation with the young\nwoman, he failed signally to expel her from his thoughts.  A hundred\ntimes a day he found his eyes wandering in her direction and feasting\nthemselves upon her charms of face and figure.  Each hour his\ninfatuation for her grew, until his desire to possess her gained almost\nthe proportions of madness.\n\nIf either the girl or Mohammed Beyd could have guessed what passed in\nthe mind of the man which each thought a friend and ally, the apparent\nharmony of the little company would have been rudely disturbed.\n\nWerper had not succeeded in arranging to tent with Mohammed Beyd, and\nso he revolved many plans for the assassination of the Arab that would\nhave been greatly simplified had he been permitted to share the other's\nnightly shelter.\n\nUpon the second day out Mohammed Beyd reined his horse to the side of\nthe animal on which the captive was mounted.  It was, apparently, the\nfirst notice which the Arab had taken of the girl; but many times\nduring these two days had his cunning eyes peered greedily from beneath\nthe hood of his burnoose to gloat upon the beauties of the prisoner.\n\nNor was this hidden infatuation of any recent origin.  He had conceived\nit when first the wife of the Englishman had fallen into the hands of\nAchmet Zek; but while that austere chieftain lived, Mohammed Beyd had\nnot even dared hope for a realization of his imaginings.\n\nNow, though, it was different--only a despised dog of a Christian stood\nbetween himself and possession of the girl.  How easy it would be to\nslay the unbeliever, and take unto himself both the woman and the\njewels!  With the latter in his possession, the ransom which might be\nobtained for the captive would form no great inducement to her\nrelinquishment in the face of the pleasures of sole ownership of her.\nYes, he would kill Werper, retain all the jewels and keep the\nEnglishwoman.\n\nHe turned his eyes upon her as she rode along at his side.  How\nbeautiful she was!  His fingers opened and closed--skinny, brown talons\nitching to feel the soft flesh of the victim in their remorseless\nclutch.\n\n\"Do you know,\" he asked leaning toward her, \"where this man would take\nyou?\"\n\nJane Clayton nodded affirmatively.\n\n\"And you are willing to become the plaything of a black sultan?\"\n\nThe girl drew herself up to her full height, and turned her head away;\nbut she did not reply.  She feared lest her knowledge of the ruse that\nM. Frecoult was playing upon the Arab might cause her to betray herself\nthrough an insufficient display of terror and aversion.\n\n\"You can escape this fate,\" continued the Arab; \"Mohammed Beyd will\nsave you,\" and he reached out a brown hand and seized the fingers of\nher right hand in a grasp so sudden and so fierce that his brutal\npassion was revealed as clearly in the act as though his lips had\nconfessed it in words. Jane Clayton wrenched herself from his grasp.\n\n\"You beast!\" she cried.  \"Leave me or I shall call M.  Frecoult.\"\n\nMohammed Beyd drew back with a scowl.  His thin, upper lip curled\nupward, revealing his smooth, white teeth.\n\n\"M. Frecoult?\" he jeered.  \"There is no such person.  The man's name is\nWerper.  He is a liar, a thief, and a murderer.  He killed his captain\nin the Congo country and fled to the protection of Achmet Zek.  He led\nAchmet Zek to the plunder of your home.  He followed your husband, and\nplanned to steal his gold from him.  He has told me that you think him\nyour protector, and he has played upon this to win your confidence that\nit might be easier to carry you north and sell you into some black\nsultan's harem.  Mohammed Beyd is your only hope,\" and with this\nassertion to provide the captive with food for thought, the Arab\nspurred forward toward the head of the column.\n\nJane Clayton could not know how much of Mohammed Beyd's indictment\nmight be true, or how much false; but at least it had the effect of\ndampening her hopes and causing her to review with suspicion every past\nact of the man upon whom she had been looking as her sole protector in\nthe midst of a world of enemies and dangers.\n\nOn the march a separate tent had been provided for the captive, and at\nnight it was pitched between those of Mohammed Beyd and Werper.  A\nsentry was posted at the front and another at the back, and with these\nprecautions it had not been thought necessary to confine the prisoner\nto bonds.  The evening following her interview with Mohammed Beyd, Jane\nClayton sat for some time at the opening of her tent watching the rough\nactivities of the camp.  She had eaten the meal that had been brought\nher by Mohammed Beyd's Negro slave--a meal of cassava cakes and a\nnondescript stew in which a new-killed monkey, a couple of squirrels\nand the remains of a zebra, slain the previous day, were impartially\nand unsavorily combined; but the one-time Baltimore belle had long\nsince submerged in the stern battle for existence, an estheticism which\nformerly revolted at much slighter provocation.\n\nAs the girl's eyes wandered across the trampled jungle clearing,\nalready squalid from the presence of man, she no longer apprehended\neither the nearer objects of the foreground, the uncouth men laughing\nor quarreling among themselves, or the jungle beyond, which\ncircumscribed the extreme range of her material vision.  Her gaze\npassed through all these, unseeing, to center itself upon a distant\nbungalow and scenes of happy security which brought to her eyes tears\nof mingled joy and sorrow.  She saw a tall, broad-shouldered man riding\nin from distant fields; she saw herself waiting to greet him with an\narmful of fresh-cut roses from the bushes which flanked the little\nrustic gate before her.  All this was gone, vanished into the past,\nwiped out by the torches and bullets and hatred of these hideous and\ndegenerate men.  With a stifled sob, and a little shudder, Jane Clayton\nturned back into her tent and sought the pile of unclean blankets which\nwere her bed.  Throwing herself face downward upon them she sobbed\nforth her misery until kindly sleep brought her, at least temporary,\nrelief.\n\nAnd while she slept a figure stole from the tent that stood to the\nright of hers.  It approached the sentry before the doorway and\nwhispered a few words in the man's ear.  The latter nodded, and strode\noff through the darkness in the direction of his own blankets.  The\nfigure passed to the rear of Jane Clayton's tent and spoke again to the\nsentry there, and this man also left, following in the trail of the\nfirst.\n\nThen he who had sent them away stole silently to the tent flap and\nuntying the fastenings entered with the noiselessness of a disembodied\nspirit.\n\n\n\n\n21\n\nThe Flight to the Jungle\n\n\nSleepless upon his blankets, Albert Werper let his evil mind dwell upon\nthe charms of the woman in the nearby tent.  He had noted Mohammed\nBeyd's sudden interest in the girl, and judging the man by his own\nstandards, had guessed at the basis of the Arab's sudden change of\nattitude toward the prisoner.\n\nAnd as he let his imaginings run riot they aroused within him a bestial\njealousy of Mohammed Beyd, and a great fear that the other might\nencompass his base designs upon the defenseless girl.  By a strange\nprocess of reasoning, Werper, whose designs were identical with the\nArab's, pictured himself as Jane Clayton's protector, and presently\nconvinced himself that the attentions which might seem hideous to her\nif proffered by Mohammed Beyd, would be welcomed from Albert Werper.\n\nHer husband was dead, and Werper fancied that he could replace in the\ngirl's heart the position which had been vacated by the act of the grim\nreaper.  He could offer Jane Clayton marriage--a thing which Mohammed\nBeyd would not offer, and which the girl would spurn from him with as\ndeep disgust as she would his unholy lust.\n\nIt was not long before the Belgian had succeeded in convincing himself\nthat the captive not only had every reason for having conceived\nsentiments of love for him; but that she had by various feminine\nmethods acknowledged her new-born affection.\n\nAnd then a sudden resolution possessed him.  He threw the blankets from\nhim and rose to his feet.  Pulling on his boots and buckling his\ncartridge belt and revolver about his hips he stepped to the flap of\nhis tent and looked out.  There was no sentry before the entrance to\nthe prisoner's tent!  What could it mean?  Fate was indeed playing into\nhis hands.\n\nStepping outside he passed to the rear of the girl's tent.  There was\nno sentry there, either!  And now, boldly, he walked to the entrance\nand stepped within.\n\nDimly the moonlight illumined the interior.  Across the tent a figure\nbent above the blankets of a bed.  There was a whispered word, and\nanother figure rose from the blankets to a sitting position.  Slowly\nAlbert Werper's eyes were becoming accustomed to the half darkness of\nthe tent.  He saw that the figure leaning over the bed was that of a\nman, and he guessed at the truth of the nocturnal visitor's identity.\n\nA sullen, jealous rage enveloped him.  He took a step in the direction\nof the two.  He heard a frightened cry break from the girl's lips as\nshe recognized the features of the man above her, and he saw Mohammed\nBeyd seize her by the throat and bear her back upon the blankets.\n\nCheated passion cast a red blur before the eyes of the Belgian.  No!\nThe man should not have her.  She was for him and him alone.  He would\nnot be robbed of his rights.\n\nQuickly he ran across the tent and threw himself upon the back of\nMohammed Beyd.  The latter, though surprised by this sudden and\nunexpected attack, was not one to give up without a battle.  The\nBelgian's fingers were feeling for his throat, but the Arab tore them\naway, and rising wheeled upon his adversary.  As they faced each other\nWerper struck the Arab a heavy blow in the face, sending him staggering\nbackward.  If he had followed up his advantage he would have had\nMohammed Beyd at his mercy in another moment; but instead he tugged at\nhis revolver to draw it from its holster, and Fate ordained that at\nthat particular moment the weapon should stick in its leather scabbard.\n\nBefore he could disengage it, Mohammed Beyd had recovered himself and\nwas dashing upon him.  Again Werper struck the other in the face, and\nthe Arab returned the blow.  Striking at each other and ceaselessly\nattempting to clinch, the two battled about the small interior of the\ntent, while the girl, wide-eyed in terror and astonishment, watched the\nduel in frozen silence.\n\nAgain and again Werper struggled to draw his weapon.  Mohammed Beyd,\nanticipating no such opposition to his base desires, had come to the\ntent unarmed, except for a long knife which he now drew as he stood\npanting during the first brief rest of the encounter.\n\n\"Dog of a Christian,\" he whispered, \"look upon this knife in the hands\nof Mohammed Beyd!  Look well, unbeliever, for it is the last thing in\nlife that you shall see or feel.  With it Mohammed Beyd will cut out\nyour black heart.  If you have a God pray to him now--in a minute more\nyou shall be dead,\" and with that he rushed viciously upon the Belgian,\nhis knife raised high above his head.\n\nWerper was still dragging futilely at his weapon.  The Arab was almost\nupon him.  In desperation the European waited until Mohammed Beyd was\nall but against him, then he threw himself to one side to the floor of\nthe tent, leaving a leg extended in the path of the Arab.\n\nThe trick succeeded.  Mohammed Beyd, carried on by the momentum of his\ncharge, stumbled over the projecting obstacle and crashed to the\nground.  Instantly he was up again and wheeling to renew the battle;\nbut Werper was on foot ahead of him, and now his revolver, loosened\nfrom its holster, flashed in his hand.\n\nThe Arab dove headfirst to grapple with him, there was a sharp report,\na lurid gleam of flame in the darkness, and Mohammed Beyd rolled over\nand over upon the floor to come to a final rest beside the bed of the\nwoman he had sought to dishonor.\n\nAlmost immediately following the report came the sound of excited\nvoices in the camp without.  Men were calling back and forth to one\nanother asking the meaning of the shot.  Werper could hear them running\nhither and thither, investigating.\n\nJane Clayton had risen to her feet as the Arab died, and now she came\nforward with outstretched hands toward Werper.\n\n\"How can I ever thank you, my friend?\" she asked.  \"And to think that\nonly today I had almost believed the infamous story which this beast\ntold me of your perfidy and of your past.  Forgive me, M. Frecoult.  I\nmight have known that a white man and a gentleman could be naught else\nthan the protector of a woman of his own race amid the dangers of this\nsavage land.\"\n\nWerper's hands dropped limply at his sides.  He stood looking at the\ngirl; but he could find no words to reply to her.  Her innocent\narraignment of his true purposes was unanswerable.\n\nOutside, the Arabs were searching for the author of the disturbing\nshot.  The two sentries who had been relieved and sent to their\nblankets by Mohammed Beyd were the first to suggest going to the tent\nof the prisoner.  It occurred to them that possibly the woman had\nsuccessfully defended herself against their leader.\n\nWerper heard the men approaching.  To be apprehended as the slayer of\nMohammed Beyd would be equivalent to a sentence of immediate death.\nThe fierce and brutal raiders would tear to pieces a Christian who had\ndared spill the blood of their leader.  He must find some excuse to\ndelay the finding of Mohammed Beyd's dead body.\n\nReturning his revolver to its holster, he walked quickly to the\nentrance of the tent.  Parting the flaps he stepped out and confronted\nthe men, who were rapidly approaching.  Somehow he found within him the\nnecessary bravado to force a smile to his lips, as he held up his hand\nto bar their farther progress.\n\n\"The woman resisted,\" he said, \"and Mohammed Beyd was forced to shoot\nher.  She is not dead--only slightly wounded.  You may go back to your\nblankets.  Mohammed Beyd and I will look after the prisoner;\" then he\nturned and re-entered the tent, and the raiders, satisfied by this\nexplanation, gladly returned to their broken slumbers.\n\nAs he again faced Jane Clayton, Werper found himself animated by quite\ndifferent intentions than those which had lured him from his blankets\nbut a few minutes before.  The excitement of his encounter with\nMohammed Beyd, as well as the dangers which he now faced at the hands\nof the raiders when morning must inevitably reveal the truth of what\nhad occurred in the tent of the prisoner that night, had naturally\ncooled the hot passion which had dominated him when he entered the tent.\n\nBut another and stronger force was exerting itself in the girl's favor.\nHowever low a man may sink, honor and chivalry, has he ever possessed\nthem, are never entirely eradicated from his character, and though\nAlbert Werper had long since ceased to evidence the slightest claim to\neither the one or the other, the spontaneous acknowledgment of them\nwhich the girl's speech had presumed had reawakened them both within\nhim.\n\nFor the first time he realized the almost hopeless and frightful\nposition of the fair captive, and the depths of ignominy to which he\nhad sunk, that had made it possible for him, a well-born, European\ngentleman, to have entertained even for a moment the part that he had\ntaken in the ruin of her home, happiness, and herself.\n\nToo much of baseness already lay at the threshold of his conscience for\nhim ever to hope entirely to redeem himself; but in the first, sudden\nburst of contrition the man conceived an honest intention to undo, in\nso far as lay within his power, the evil that his criminal avarice had\nbrought upon this sweet and unoffending woman.\n\nAs he stood apparently listening to the retreating footsteps--Jane\nClayton approached him.\n\n\"What are we to do now?\" she asked.  \"Morning will bring discovery of\nthis,\" and she pointed to the still body of Mohammed Beyd.  \"They will\nkill you when they find him.\"\n\nFor a time Werper did not reply, then he turned suddenly toward the\nwoman.\n\n\"I have a plan,\" he cried.  \"It will require nerve and courage on your\npart; but you have already shown that you possess both.  Can you endure\nstill more?\"\n\n\"I can endure anything,\" she replied with a brave smile, \"that may\noffer us even a slight chance for escape.\"\n\n\"You must simulate death,\" he explained, \"while I carry you from the\ncamp.  I will explain to the sentries that Mohammed Beyd has ordered me\nto take your body into the jungle.  This seemingly unnecessary act I\nshall explain upon the grounds that Mohammed Beyd had conceived a\nviolent passion for you and that he so regretted the act by which he\nhad become your slayer that he could not endure the silent reproach of\nyour lifeless body.\"\n\nThe girl held up her hand to stop.  A smile touched her lips.\n\n\"Are you quite mad?\" she asked.  \"Do you imagine that the sentries will\ncredit any such ridiculous tale?\"\n\n\"You do not know them,\" he replied.  \"Beneath their rough exteriors,\ndespite their calloused and criminal natures, there exists in each a\nwell-defined strain of romantic emotionalism--you will find it among\nsuch as these throughout the world.  It is romance which lures men to\nlead wild lives of outlawry and crime.  The ruse will succeed--never\nfear.\"\n\nJane Clayton shrugged.  \"We can but try it--and then what?\"\n\n\"I shall hide you in the jungle,\" continued the Belgian, \"coming for\nyou alone and with two horses in the morning.\"\n\n\"But how will you explain Mohammed Beyd's death?\" she asked.  \"It will\nbe discovered before ever you can escape the camp in the morning.\"\n\n\"I shall not explain it,\" replied Werper.  \"Mohammed Beyd shall explain\nit himself--we must leave that to him.  Are you ready for the venture?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"But wait, I must get you a weapon and ammunition,\" and Werper walked\nquickly from the tent.\n\nVery shortly he returned with an extra revolver and ammunition belt\nstrapped about his waist.\n\n\"Are you ready?\" he asked.\n\n\"Quite ready,\" replied the girl.\n\n\"Then come and throw yourself limply across my left shoulder,\" and\nWerper knelt to receive her.\n\n\"There,\" he said, as he rose to his feet.  \"Now, let your arms, your\nlegs and your head hang limply.  Remember that you are dead.\"\n\nA moment later the man walked out into the camp, the body of the woman\nacross his shoulder.\n\nA thorn boma had been thrown up about the camp, to discourage the\nbolder of the hungry carnivora.  A couple of sentries paced to and fro\nin the light of a fire which they kept burning brightly.  The nearer of\nthese looked up in surprise as he saw Werper approaching.\n\n\"Who are you?\" he cried.  \"What have you there?\"\n\nWerper raised the hood of his burnoose that the fellow might see his\nface.\n\n\"This is the body of the woman,\" he explained.  \"Mohammed Beyd has\nasked me to take it into the jungle, for he cannot bear to look upon\nthe face of her whom he loved, and whom necessity compelled him to\nslay.  He suffers greatly--he is inconsolable.  It was with difficulty\nthat I prevented him taking his own life.\"\n\nAcross the speaker's shoulder, limp and frightened, the girl waited for\nthe Arab's reply.  He would laugh at this preposterous story; of that\nshe was sure.  In an instant he would unmask the deception that M.\nFrecoult was attempting to practice upon him, and they would both be\nlost.  She tried to plan how best she might aid her would-be rescuer in\nthe fight which must most certainly follow within a moment or two.\n\nThen she heard the voice of the Arab as he replied to M. Frecoult.\n\n\"Are you going alone, or do you wish me to awaken someone to accompany\nyou?\" he asked, and his tone denoted not the least surprise that\nMohammed Beyd had suddenly discovered such remarkably sensitive\ncharacteristics.\n\n\"I shall go alone,\" replied Werper, and he passed on and out through\nthe narrow opening in the boma, by which the sentry stood.\n\nA moment later he had entered among the boles of the trees with his\nburden, and when safely hidden from the sentry's view lowered the girl\nto her feet, with a low, \"sh-sh,\" when she would have spoken.\n\nThen he led her a little farther into the forest, halted beneath a\nlarge tree with spreading branches, buckled a cartridge belt and\nrevolver about her waist, and assisted her to clamber into the lower\nbranches.\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" he whispered, \"as soon as I can elude them, I will return\nfor you.  Be brave, Lady Greystoke--we may yet escape.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" she replied in a low tone.  \"You have been very kind, and\nvery brave.\"\n\nWerper did not reply, and the darkness of the night hid the scarlet\nflush of shame which swept upward across his face.  Quickly he turned\nand made his way back to camp.  The sentry, from his post, saw him\nenter his own tent; but he did not see him crawl under the canvas at\nthe rear and sneak cautiously to the tent which the prisoner had\noccupied, where now lay the dead body of Mohammed Beyd.\n\nRaising the lower edge of the rear wall, Werper crept within and\napproached the corpse.  Without an instant's hesitation he seized the\ndead wrists and dragged the body upon its back to the point where he\nhad just entered.  On hands and knees he backed out as he had come in,\ndrawing the corpse after him.  Once outside the Belgian crept to the\nside of the tent and surveyed as much of the camp as lay within his\nvision--no one was watching.\n\nReturning to the body, he lifted it to his shoulder, and risking all on\na quick sally, ran swiftly across the narrow opening which separated\nthe prisoner's tent from that of the dead man.  Behind the silken wall\nhe halted and lowered his burden to the ground, and there he remained\nmotionless for several minutes, listening.\n\nSatisfied, at last, that no one had seen him, he stooped and raised the\nbottom of the tent wall, backed in and dragged the thing that had been\nMohammed Beyd after him.  To the sleeping rugs of the dead raider he\ndrew the corpse, then he fumbled about in the darkness until he had\nfound Mohammed Beyd's revolver.  With the weapon in his hand he\nreturned to the side of the dead man, kneeled beside the bedding, and\ninserted his right hand with the weapon beneath the rugs, piled a\nnumber of thicknesses of the closely woven fabric over and about the\nrevolver with his left hand.  Then he pulled the trigger, and at the\nsame time he coughed.\n\nThe muffled report could not have been heard above the sound of his\ncough by one directly outside the tent.  Werper was satisfied.  A grim\nsmile touched his lips as he withdrew the weapon from the rugs and\nplaced it carefully in the right hand of the dead man, fixing three of\nthe fingers around the grip and the index finger inside the trigger\nguard.\n\nA moment longer he tarried to rearrange the disordered rugs, and then\nhe left as he had entered, fastening down the rear wall of the tent as\nit had been before he had raised it.\n\nGoing to the tent of the prisoner he removed there also the evidence\nthat someone might have come or gone beneath the rear wall.  Then he\nreturned to his own tent, entered, fastened down the canvas, and\ncrawled into his blankets.\n\nThe following morning he was awakened by the excited voice of Mohammed\nBeyd's slave calling to him at the entrance of his tent.\n\n\"Quick!  Quick!\" cried the black in a frightened tone.  \"Come!\nMohammed Beyd is dead in his tent--dead by his own hand.\"\n\nWerper sat up quickly in his blankets at the first alarm, a startled\nexpression upon his countenance; but at the last words of the black a\nsigh of relief escaped his lips and a slight smile replaced the tense\nlines upon his face.\n\n\"I come,\" he called to the slave, and drawing on his boots, rose and\nwent out of his tent.\n\nExcited Arabs and blacks were running from all parts of the camp toward\nthe silken tent of Mohammed Beyd, and when Werper entered he found a\nnumber of the raiders crowded about the corpse, now cold and stiff.\n\nShouldering his way among them, the Belgian halted beside the dead body\nof the raider.  He looked down in silence for a moment upon the still\nface, then he wheeled upon the Arabs.\n\n\"Who has done this thing?\" he cried.  His tone was both menacing and\naccusing.  \"Who has murdered Mohammed Beyd?\"\n\nA sudden chorus of voices arose in tumultuous protest.\n\n\"Mohammed Beyd was not murdered,\" they cried.  \"He died by his own\nhand.  This, and Allah, are our witnesses,\" and they pointed to a\nrevolver in the dead man's hand.\n\nFor a time Werper pretended to be skeptical; but at last permitted\nhimself to be convinced that Mohammed Beyd had indeed killed himself in\nremorse for the death of the white woman he had, all unknown to his\nfollowers, loved so devotedly.\n\nWerper himself wrapped the blankets of the dead man about the corpse,\ntaking care to fold inward the scorched and bullet-torn fabric that had\nmuffled the report of the weapon he had fired the night before.  Then\nsix husky blacks carried the body out into the clearing where the camp\nstood, and deposited it in a shallow grave.  As the loose earth fell\nupon the silent form beneath the tell-tale blankets, Albert Werper\nheaved another sigh of relief--his plan had worked out even better than\nhe had dared hope.\n\nWith Achmet Zek and Mohammed Beyd both dead, the raiders were without a\nleader, and after a brief conference they decided to return into the\nnorth on visits to the various tribes to which they belonged. Werper,\nafter learning the direction they intended taking, announced that for\nhis part, he was going east to the coast, and as they knew of nothing\nhe possessed which any of them coveted, they signified their\nwillingness that he should go his way.\n\nAs they rode off, he sat his horse in the center of the clearing\nwatching them disappear one by one into the jungle, and thanked his God\nthat he had at last escaped their villainous clutches.\n\nWhen he could no longer hear any sound of them, he turned to the right\nand rode into the forest toward the tree where he had hidden Lady\nGreystoke, and drawing rein beneath it, called up in a gay and hopeful\nvoice a pleasant, \"Good morning!\"\n\nThere was no reply, and though his eyes searched the thick foliage\nabove him, he could see no sign of the girl.  Dismounting, he quickly\nclimbed into the tree, where he could obtain a view of all its\nbranches.  The tree was empty--Jane Clayton had vanished during the\nsilent watches of the jungle night.\n\n\n\n\n22\n\nTarzan Recovers His Reason\n\n\nAs Tarzan let the pebbles from the recovered pouch run through his\nfingers, his thoughts returned to the pile of yellow ingots about which\nthe Arabs and the Abyssinians had waged their relentless battle.\n\nWhat was there in common between that pile of dirty metal and the\nbeautiful, sparkling pebbles that had formerly been in his pouch?  What\nwas the metal?  From whence had it come?  What was that tantalizing\nhalf-conviction which seemed to demand the recognition of his memory\nthat the yellow pile for which these men had fought and died had been\nintimately connected with his past--that it had been his?\n\nWhat had been his past?  He shook his head.  Vaguely the memory of his\napish childhood passed slowly in review--then came a strangely tangled\nmass of faces, figures and events which seemed to have no relation to\nTarzan of the Apes, and yet which were, even in their fragmentary form,\nfamiliar.\n\nSlowly and painfully, recollection was attempting to reassert itself,\nthe hurt brain was mending, as the cause of its recent failure to\nfunction was being slowly absorbed or removed by the healing processes\nof perfect circulation.\n\nThe people who now passed before his mind's eye for the first time in\nweeks wore familiar faces; but yet he could neither place them in the\nniches they had once filled in his past life, nor call them by name.\nOne was a fair she, and it was her face which most often moved through\nthe tangled recollections of his convalescing brain.  Who was she?\nWhat had she been to Tarzan of the Apes?  He seemed to see her about\nthe very spot upon which the pile of gold had been unearthed by the\nAbyssinians; but the surroundings were vastly different from those\nwhich now obtained.\n\nThere was a building--there were many buildings--and there were hedges,\nfences, and flowers.  Tarzan puckered his brow in puzzled study of the\nwonderful problem.  For an instant he seemed to grasp the whole of a\ntrue explanation, and then, just as success was within his grasp, the\npicture faded into a jungle scene where a naked, white youth danced in\ncompany with a band of hairy, primordial ape-things.\n\nTarzan shook his head and sighed.  Why was it that he could not\nrecollect?  At least he was sure that in some way the pile of gold, the\nplace where it lay, the subtle aroma of the elusive she he had been\npursuing, the memory figure of the white woman, and he himself, were\ninextricably connected by the ties of a forgotten past.\n\nIf the woman belonged there, what better place to search or await her\nthan the very spot which his broken recollections seemed to assign to\nher?  It was worth trying.  Tarzan slipped the thong of the empty pouch\nover his shoulder and started off through the trees in the direction of\nthe plain.\n\nAt the outskirts of the forest he met the Arabs returning in search of\nAchmet Zek.  Hiding, he let them pass, and then resumed his way toward\nthe charred ruins of the home he had been almost upon the point of\nrecalling to his memory.\n\nHis journey across the plain was interrupted by the discovery of a\nsmall herd of antelope in a little swale, where the cover and the wind\nwere well combined to make stalking easy.  A fat yearling rewarded a\nhalf hour of stealthy creeping and a sudden, savage rush, and it was\nlate in the afternoon when the ape-man settled himself upon his\nhaunches beside his kill to enjoy the fruits of his skill, his cunning,\nand his prowess.\n\nHis hunger satisfied, thirst next claimed his attention.  The river\nlured him by the shortest path toward its refreshing waters, and when\nhe had drunk, night already had fallen and he was some half mile or\nmore down stream from the point where he had seen the pile of yellow\ningots, and where he hoped to meet the memory woman, or find some clew\nto her whereabouts or her identity.\n\nTo the jungle bred, time is usually a matter of small moment, and\nhaste, except when engendered by terror, by rage, or by hunger, is\ndistasteful.  Today was gone.  Therefore tomorrow, of which there was\nan infinite procession, would answer admirably for Tarzan's further\nquest.  And, besides, the ape-man was tired and would sleep.\n\nA tree afforded him the safety, seclusion and comforts of a\nwell-appointed bedchamber, and to the chorus of the hunters and the\nhunted of the wild river bank he soon dropped off into deep slumber.\n\nMorning found him both hungry and thirsty again, and dropping from his\ntree he made his way to the drinking place at the river's edge.  There\nhe found Numa, the lion, ahead of him.  The big fellow was lapping the\nwater greedily, and at the approach of Tarzan along the trail in his\nrear, he raised his head, and turning his gaze backward across his\nmaned shoulders glared at the intruder.  A low growl of warning rumbled\nfrom his throat; but Tarzan, guessing that the beast had but just\nquitted his kill and was well filled, merely made a slight detour and\ncontinued to the river, where he stopped a few yards above the tawny\ncat, and dropping upon his hands and knees plunged his face into the\ncool water.  For a moment the lion continued to eye the man; then he\nresumed his drinking, and man and beast quenched their thirst side by\nside each apparently oblivious of the other's presence.\n\nNuma was the first to finish.  Raising his head, he gazed across the\nriver for a few minutes with that stony fixity of attention which is a\ncharacteristic of his kind.  But for the ruffling of his black mane to\nthe touch of the passing breeze he might have been wrought from golden\nbronze, so motionless, so statuesque his pose.\n\nA deep sigh from the cavernous lungs dispelled the illusion.  The\nmighty head swung slowly around until the yellow eyes rested upon the\nman.  The bristled lip curved upward, exposing yellow fangs.  Another\nwarning growl vibrated the heavy jowls, and the king of beasts turned\nmajestically about and paced slowly up the trail into the dense reeds.\n\nTarzan of the Apes drank on, but from the corners of his gray eyes he\nwatched the great brute's every move until he had disappeared from\nview, and, after, his keen ears marked the movements of the carnivore.\n\nA plunge in the river was followed by a scant breakfast of eggs which\nchance discovered to him, and then he set off up river toward the ruins\nof the bungalow where the golden ingots had marked the center of\nyesterday's battle.\n\nAnd when he came upon the spot, great was his surprise and\nconsternation, for the yellow metal had disappeared.  The earth,\ntrampled by the feet of horses and men, gave no clew.  It was as though\nthe ingots had evaporated into thin air.\n\nThe ape-man was at a loss to know where to turn or what next to do.\nThere was no sign of any spoor which might denote that the she had been\nhere.  The metal was gone, and if there was any connection between the\nshe and the metal it seemed useless to wait for her now that the latter\nhad been removed elsewhere.\n\nEverything seemed to elude him--the pretty pebbles, the yellow metal,\nthe she, his memory.  Tarzan was disgusted.  He would go back into the\njungle and look for Chulk, and so he turned his steps once more toward\nthe forest.  He moved rapidly, swinging across the plain in a long,\neasy trot, and at the edge of the forest, taking to the trees with the\nagility and speed of a small monkey.\n\nHis direction was aimless--he merely raced on and on through the\njungle, the joy of unfettered action his principal urge, with the hope\nof stumbling upon some clew to Chulk or the she, a secondary incentive.\n\nFor two days he roamed about, killing, eating, drinking and sleeping\nwherever inclination and the means to indulge it occurred\nsimultaneously.  It was upon the morning of the third day that the\nscent spoor of horse and man were wafted faintly to his nostrils.\nInstantly he altered his course to glide silently through the branches\nin the direction from which the scent came.\n\nIt was not long before he came upon a solitary horseman riding toward\nthe east.  Instantly his eyes confirmed what his nose had previously\nsuspected--the rider was he who had stolen his pretty pebbles.  The\nlight of rage flared suddenly in the gray eyes as the ape-man dropped\nlower among the branches until he moved almost directly above the\nunconscious Werper.\n\nThere was a quick leap, and the Belgian felt a heavy body hurtle onto\nthe rump of his terror-stricken mount.  The horse, snorting, leaped\nforward.  Giant arms encircled the rider, and in the twinkling of an\neye he was dragged from his saddle to find himself lying in the narrow\ntrail with a naked, white giant kneeling upon his breast.\n\nRecognition came to Werper with the first glance at his captor's face,\nand a pallor of fear overspread his features.  Strong fingers were at\nhis throat, fingers of steel.  He tried to cry out, to plead for his\nlife; but the cruel fingers denied him speech, as they were as surely\ndenying him life.\n\n\"The pretty pebbles?\" cried the man upon his breast.  \"What did you\nwith the pretty pebbles--with Tarzan's pretty pebbles?\"\n\nThe fingers relaxed to permit a reply.  For some time Werper could only\nchoke and cough--at last he regained the powers of speech.\n\n\"Achmet Zek, the Arab, stole them from me,\" he cried; \"he made me give\nup the pouch and the pebbles.\"\n\n\"I saw all that,\" replied Tarzan; \"but the pebbles in the pouch were\nnot the pebbles of Tarzan--they were only such pebbles as fill the\nbottoms of the rivers, and the shelving banks beside them.  Even the\nArab would not have them, for he threw them away in anger when he had\nlooked upon them.  It is my pretty pebbles that I want--where are they?\"\n\n\"I do not know, I do not know,\" cried Werper.  \"I gave them to Achmet\nZek or he would have killed me.  A few minutes later he followed me\nalong the trail to slay me, although he had promised to molest me no\nfurther, and I shot and killed him; but the pouch was not upon his\nperson and though I searched about the jungle for some time I could not\nfind it.\"\n\n\"I found it, I tell you,\" growled Tarzan, \"and I also found the pebbles\nwhich Achmet Zek had thrown away in disgust.  They were not Tarzan's\npebbles.  You have hidden them!  Tell me where they are or I will kill\nyou,\" and the brown fingers of the ape-man closed a little tighter upon\nthe throat of his victim.\n\nWerper struggled to free himself.  \"My God, Lord Greystoke,\" he managed\nto scream, \"would you commit murder for a handful of stones?\"\n\nThe fingers at his throat relaxed, a puzzled, far-away expression\nsoftened the gray eyes.\n\n\"Lord Greystoke!\" repeated the ape-man.  \"Lord Greystoke!  Who is Lord\nGreystoke?  Where have I heard that name before?\"\n\n\"Why man, you are Lord Greystoke,\" cried the Belgian.  \"You were\ninjured by a falling rock when the earthquake shattered the passage to\nthe underground chamber to which you and your black Waziri had come to\nfetch golden ingots back to your bungalow.  The blow shattered your\nmemory.  You are John Clayton, Lord Greystoke--don't you remember?\"\n\n\"John Clayton, Lord Greystoke!\" repeated Tarzan.  Then for a moment he\nwas silent.  Presently his hand went falteringly to his forehead, an\nexpression of wonderment filled his eyes--of wonderment and sudden\nunderstanding.  The forgotten name had reawakened the returning memory\nthat had been struggling to reassert itself.  The ape-man relinquished\nhis grasp upon the throat of the Belgian, and leaped to his feet.\n\n\"God!\" he cried, and then, \"Jane!\" Suddenly he turned toward Werper.\n\"My wife?\" he asked.  \"What has become of her?  The farm is in ruins.\nYou know.  You have had something to do with all this.  You followed me\nto Opar, you stole the jewels which I thought but pretty pebbles.  You\nare a crook!  Do not try to tell me that you are not.\"\n\n\"He is worse than a crook,\" said a quiet voice close behind them.\n\nTarzan turned in astonishment to see a tall man in uniform standing in\nthe trail a few paces from him.  Back of the man were a number of black\nsoldiers in the uniform of the Congo Free State.\n\n\"He is a murderer, Monsieur,\" continued the officer.  \"I have followed\nhim for a long time to take him back to stand trial for the killing of\nhis superior officer.\"\n\nWerper was upon his feet now, gazing, white and trembling, at the fate\nwhich had overtaken him even in the fastness of the labyrinthine\njungle.  Instinctively he turned to flee; but Tarzan of the Apes\nreached out a strong hand and grasped him by the shoulder.\n\n\"Wait!\" said the ape-man to his captive.  \"This gentleman wishes you,\nand so do I. When I am through with you, he may have you.  Tell me what\nhas become of my wife.\"\n\nThe Belgian officer eyed the almost naked, white giant with curiosity.\nHe noted the strange contrast of primitive weapons and apparel, and the\neasy, fluent French which the man spoke.  The former denoted the\nlowest, the latter the highest type of culture.  He could not quite\ndetermine the social status of this strange creature; but he knew that\nhe did not relish the easy assurance with which the fellow presumed to\ndictate when he might take possession of the prisoner.\n\n\"Pardon me,\" he said, stepping forward and placing his hand on Werper's\nother shoulder; \"but this gentleman is my prisoner.  He must come with\nme.\"\n\n\"When I am through with him,\" replied Tarzan, quietly.\n\nThe officer turned and beckoned to the soldiers standing in the trail\nbehind him.  A company of uniformed blacks stepped quickly forward and\npushing past the three, surrounded the ape-man and his captive.\n\n\"Both the law and the power to enforce it are upon my side,\" announced\nthe officer.  \"Let us have no trouble.  If you have a grievance against\nthis man you may return with me and enter your charge regularly before\nan authorized tribunal.\"\n\n\"Your legal rights are not above suspicion, my friend,\" replied Tarzan,\n\"and your power to enforce your commands are only apparent--not real.\nYou have presumed to enter British territory with an armed force.\nWhere is your authority for this invasion?  Where are the extradition\npapers which warrant the arrest of this man?  And what assurance have\nyou that I cannot bring an armed force about you that will prevent your\nreturn to the Congo Free State?\"\n\nThe Belgian lost his temper.  \"I have no disposition to argue with a\nnaked savage,\" he cried.  \"Unless you wish to be hurt you will not\ninterfere with me.  Take the prisoner, Sergeant!\"\n\nWerper raised his lips close to Tarzan's ear.  \"Keep me from them, and\nI can show you the very spot where I saw your wife last night,\" he\nwhispered.  \"She cannot be far from here at this very minute.\"\n\nThe soldiers, following the signal from their sergeant, closed in to\nseize Werper.  Tarzan grabbed the Belgian about the waist, and bearing\nhim beneath his arm as he might have borne a sack of flour, leaped\nforward in an attempt to break through the cordon.  His right fist\ncaught the nearest soldier upon the jaw and sent him hurtling backward\nupon his fellows.  Clubbed rifles were torn from the hands of those who\nbarred his way, and right and left the black soldiers stumbled aside in\nthe face of the ape-man's savage break for liberty.\n\nSo completely did the blacks surround the two that they dared not fire\nfor fear of hitting one of their own number, and Tarzan was already\nthrough them and upon the point of dodging into the concealing mazes of\nthe jungle when one who had sneaked upon him from behind struck him a\nheavy blow upon the head with a rifle.\n\nIn an instant the ape-man was down and a dozen black soldiers were upon\nhis back.  When he regained consciousness he found himself securely\nbound, as was Werper also.  The Belgian officer, success having crowned\nhis efforts, was in good humor, and inclined to chaff his prisoners\nabout the ease with which they had been captured; but from Tarzan of\nthe Apes he elicited no response.  Werper, however, was voluble in his\nprotests.  He explained that Tarzan was an English lord; but the\nofficer only laughed at the assertion, and advised his prisoner to save\nhis breath for his defense in court.\n\nAs soon as Tarzan regained his senses and it was found that he was not\nseriously injured, the prisoners were hastened into line and the return\nmarch toward the Congo Free State boundary commenced.\n\nToward evening the column halted beside a stream, made camp and\nprepared the evening meal.  From the thick foliage of the nearby jungle\na pair of fierce eyes watched the activities of the uniformed blacks\nwith silent intensity and curiosity.  From beneath beetling brows the\ncreature saw the boma constructed, the fires built, and the supper\nprepared.\n\nTarzan and Werper had been lying bound behind a small pile of knapsacks\nfrom the time that the company had halted; but with the preparation of\nthe meal completed, their guard ordered them to rise and come forward\nto one of the fires where their hands would be unfettered that they\nmight eat.\n\nAs the giant ape-man rose, a startled expression of recognition entered\nthe eyes of the watcher in the jungle, and a low guttural broke from\nthe savage lips.  Instantly Tarzan was alert, but the answering growl\ndied upon his lips, suppressed by the fear that it might arouse the\nsuspicions of the soldiers.\n\nSuddenly an inspiration came to him.  He turned toward Werper.\n\n\"I am going to speak to you in a loud voice and in a tongue which you\ndo not understand.  Appear to listen intently to what I say, and\noccasionally mumble something as though replying in the same\nlanguage--our escape may hinge upon the success of your efforts.\"\n\nWerper nodded in assent and understanding, and immediately there broke\nfrom the lips of his companion a strange jargon which might have been\ncompared with equal propriety to the barking and growling of a dog and\nthe chattering of monkeys.\n\nThe nearer soldiers looked in surprise at the ape-man.  Some of them\nlaughed, while others drew away in evident superstitious fear.  The\nofficer approached the prisoners while Tarzan was still jabbering, and\nhalted behind them, listening in perplexed interest.  When Werper\nmumbled some ridiculous jargon in reply his curiosity broke bounds, and\nhe stepped forward, demanding to know what language it was that they\nspoke.\n\nTarzan had gauged the measure of the man's culture from the nature and\nquality of his conversation during the march, and he rested the success\nof his reply upon the estimate he had made.\n\n\"Greek,\" he explained.\n\n\"Oh, I thought it was Greek,\" replied the officer; \"but it has been so\nmany years since I studied it that I was not sure.  In future, however,\nI will thank you to speak in a language which I am more familiar with.\"\n\nWerper turned his head to hide a grin, whispering to Tarzan: \"It was\nGreek to him all right--and to me, too.\"\n\nBut one of the black soldiers mumbled in a low voice to a companion: \"I\nhave heard those sounds before--once at night when I was lost in the\njungle, I heard the hairy men of the trees talking among themselves,\nand their words were like the words of this white man.  I wish that we\nhad not found him.  He is not a man at all--he is a bad spirit, and we\nshall have bad luck if we do not let him go,\" and the fellow rolled his\neyes fearfully toward the jungle.\n\nHis companion laughed nervously, and moved away, to repeat the\nconversation, with variations and exaggerations, to others of the black\nsoldiery, so that it was not long before a frightful tale of black\nmagic and sudden death was woven about the giant prisoner, and had gone\nthe rounds of the camp.\n\nAnd deep in the gloomy jungle amidst the darkening shadows of the\nfalling night a hairy, manlike creature swung swiftly southward upon\nsome secret mission of his own.\n\n\n\n\n23\n\nA Night of Terror\n\n\nTo Jane Clayton, waiting in the tree where Werper had placed her, it\nseemed that the long night would never end, yet end it did at last, and\nwithin an hour of the coming of dawn her spirits leaped with renewed\nhope at sight of a solitary horseman approaching along the trail.\n\nThe flowing burnoose, with its loose hood, hid both the face and the\nfigure of the rider; but that it was M.  Frecoult the girl well knew,\nsince he had been garbed as an Arab, and he alone might be expected to\nseek her hiding place.\n\nThat which she saw relieved the strain of the long night vigil; but\nthere was much that she did not see.  She did not see the black face\nbeneath the white hood, nor the file of ebon horsemen beyond the\ntrail's bend riding slowly in the wake of their leader.  These things\nshe did not see at first, and so she leaned downward toward the\napproaching rider, a cry of welcome forming in her throat.\n\nAt the first word the man looked up, reining in in surprise, and as she\nsaw the black face of Abdul Mourak, the Abyssinian, she shrank back in\nterror among the branches; but it was too late.  The man had seen her,\nand now he called to her to descend.  At first she refused; but when a\ndozen black cavalrymen drew up behind their leader, and at Abdul\nMourak's command one of them started to climb the tree after her she\nrealized that resistance was futile, and came slowly down to stand upon\nthe ground before this new captor and plead her cause in the name of\njustice and humanity.\n\nAngered by recent defeat, and by the loss of the gold, the jewels, and\nhis prisoners, Abdul Mourak was in no mood to be influenced by any\nappeal to those softer sentiments to which, as a matter of fact, he was\nalmost a stranger even under the most favourable conditions.\n\nHe looked for degradation and possible death in punishment for his\nfailures and his misfortunes when he should have returned to his native\nland and made his report to Menelek; but an acceptable gift might\ntemper the wrath of the emperor, and surely this fair flower of another\nrace should be gratefully received by the black ruler!\n\nWhen Jane Clayton had concluded her appeal, Abdul Mourak replied\nbriefly that he would promise her protection; but that he must take her\nto his emperor.  The girl did not need ask him why, and once again hope\ndied within her breast.  Resignedly she permitted herself to be lifted\nto a seat behind one of the troopers, and again, under new masters, her\njourney was resumed toward what she now began to believe was her\ninevitable fate.\n\nAbdul Mourak, bereft of his guides by the battle he had waged against\nthe raiders, and himself unfamiliar with the country, had wandered far\nfrom the trail he should have followed, and as a result had made but\nlittle progress toward the north since the beginning of his flight.\nToday he was beating toward the west in the hope of coming upon a\nvillage where he might obtain guides; but night found him still as far\nfrom a realization of his hopes as had the rising sun.\n\nIt was a dispirited company which went into camp, waterless and hungry,\nin the dense jungle.  Attracted by the horses, lions roared about the\nboma, and to their hideous din was added the shrill neighs of the\nterror-stricken beasts they hunted.  There was little sleep for man or\nbeast, and the sentries were doubled that there might be enough on duty\nboth to guard against the sudden charge of an overbold, or overhungry\nlion, and to keep the fire blazing which was an even more effectual\nbarrier against them than the thorny boma.\n\nIt was well past midnight, and as yet Jane Clayton, notwithstanding\nthat she had passed a sleepless night the night before, had scarcely\nmore than dozed.  A sense of impending danger seemed to hang like a\nblack pall over the camp.  The veteran troopers of the black emperor\nwere nervous and ill at ease.  Abdul Mourak left his blankets a dozen\ntimes to pace restlessly back and forth between the tethered horses and\nthe crackling fire.  The girl could see his great frame silhouetted\nagainst the lurid glare of the flames, and she guessed from the quick,\nnervous movements of the man that he was afraid.\n\nThe roaring of the lions rose in sudden fury until the earth trembled\nto the hideous chorus.  The horses shrilled their neighs of terror as\nthey lay back upon their halter ropes in their mad endeavors to break\nloose.  A trooper, braver than his fellows, leaped among the kicking,\nplunging, fear-maddened beasts in a futile attempt to quiet them.  A\nlion, large, and fierce, and courageous, leaped almost to the boma,\nfull in the bright light from the fire.  A sentry raised his piece and\nfired, and the little leaden pellet unstoppered the vials of hell upon\nthe terror-stricken camp.\n\nThe shot ploughed a deep and painful furrow in the lion's side,\narousing all the bestial fury of the little brain; but abating not a\nwhit the power and vigor of the great body.\n\nUnwounded, the boma and the flames might have turned him back; but now\nthe pain and the rage wiped caution from his mind, and with a loud, and\nangry roar he topped the barrier with an easy leap and was among the\nhorses.\n\nWhat had been pandemonium before became now an indescribable tumult of\nhideous sound.  The stricken horse upon which the lion leaped shrieked\nout its terror and its agony.  Several about it broke their tethers and\nplunged madly about the camp.  Men leaped from their blankets and with\nguns ready ran toward the picket line, and then from the jungle beyond\nthe boma a dozen lions, emboldened by the example of their fellow\ncharged fearlessly upon the camp.\n\nSingly and in twos and threes they leaped the boma, until the little\nenclosure was filled with cursing men and screaming horses battling for\ntheir lives with the green-eyed devils of the jungle.\n\nWith the charge of the first lion, Jane Clayton had scrambled to her\nfeet, and now she stood horror-struck at the scene of savage slaughter\nthat swirled and eddied about her.  Once a bolting horse knocked her\ndown, and a moment later a lion, leaping in pursuit of another\nterror-stricken animal, brushed her so closely that she was again\nthrown from her feet.\n\nAmidst the cracking of the rifles and the growls of the carnivora rose\nthe death screams of stricken men and horses as they were dragged down\nby the blood-mad cats.  The leaping carnivora and the plunging horses,\nprevented any concerted action by the Abyssinians--it was every man for\nhimself--and in the melee, the defenseless woman was either forgotten\nor ignored by her black captors.  A score of times was her life menaced\nby charging lions, by plunging horses, or by the wildly fired bullets\nof the frightened troopers, yet there was no chance of escape, for now\nwith the fiendish cunning of their kind, the tawny hunters commenced to\ncircle about their prey, hemming them within a ring of mighty, yellow\nfangs, and sharp, long talons.  Again and again an individual lion\nwould dash suddenly among the frightened men and horses, and\noccasionally a horse, goaded to frenzy by pain or terror, succeeded in\nracing safely through the circling lions, leaping the boma, and\nescaping into the jungle; but for the men and the woman no such escape\nwas possible.\n\nA horse, struck by a stray bullet, fell beside Jane Clayton, a lion\nleaped across the expiring beast full upon the breast of a black\ntrooper just beyond.  The man clubbed his rifle and struck futilely at\nthe broad head, and then he was down and the carnivore was standing\nabove him.\n\nShrieking out his terror, the soldier clawed with puny fingers at the\nshaggy breast in vain endeavor to push away the grinning jaws.  The\nlion lowered his head, the gaping fangs closed with a single sickening\ncrunch upon the fear-distorted face, and turning strode back across the\nbody of the dead horse dragging his limp and bloody burden with him.\n\nWide-eyed the girl stood watching.  She saw the carnivore step upon the\ncorpse, stumblingly, as the grisly thing swung between its forepaws,\nand her eyes remained fixed in fascination while the beast passed\nwithin a few paces of her.\n\nThe interference of the body seemed to enrage the lion.  He shook the\ninanimate clay venomously.  He growled and roared hideously at the\ndead, insensate thing, and then he dropped it and raised his head to\nlook about in search of some living victim upon which to wreak his ill\ntemper.  His yellow eyes fastened themselves balefully upon the figure\nof the girl, the bristling lips raised, disclosing the grinning fangs.\nA terrific roar broke from the savage throat, and the great beast\ncrouched to spring upon this new and helpless victim.\n\nQuiet had fallen early upon the camp where Tarzan and Werper lay\nsecurely bound.  Two nervous sentries paced their beats, their eyes\nrolling often toward the impenetrable shadows of the gloomy jungle.\nThe others slept or tried to sleep--all but the ape-man.  Silently and\npowerfully he strained at the bonds which fettered his wrists.\n\nThe muscles knotted beneath the smooth, brown skin of his arms and\nshoulders, the veins stood out upon his temples from the force of his\nexertions--a strand parted, another and another, and one hand was free.\nThen from the jungle came a low guttural, and the ape-man became\nsuddenly a silent, rigid statue, with ears and nostrils straining to\nspan the black void where his eyesight could not reach.\n\nAgain came the uncanny sound from the thick verdure beyond the camp.  A\nsentry halted abruptly, straining his eyes into the gloom.  The kinky\nwool upon his head stiffened and raised.  He called to his comrade in a\nhoarse whisper.\n\n\"Did you hear it?\" he asked.\n\nThe other came closer, trembling.\n\n\"Hear what?\"\n\nAgain was the weird sound repeated, followed almost immediately by a\nsimilar and answering sound from the camp.  The sentries drew close\ntogether, watching the black spot from which the voice seemed to come.\n\nTrees overhung the boma at this point which was upon the opposite side\nof the camp from them.  They dared not approach.  Their terror even\nprevented them from arousing their fellows--they could only stand in\nfrozen fear and watch for the fearsome apparition they momentarily\nexpected to see leap from the jungle.\n\nNor had they long to wait.  A dim, bulky form dropped lightly from the\nbranches of a tree into the camp.  At sight of it one of the sentries\nrecovered command of his muscles and his voice.  Screaming loudly to\nawaken the sleeping camp, he leaped toward the flickering watch fire\nand threw a mass of brush upon it.\n\nThe white officer and the black soldiers sprang from their blankets.\nThe flames leaped high upon the rejuvenated fire, lighting the entire\ncamp, and the awakened men shrank back in superstitious terror from the\nsight that met their frightened and astonished vision.\n\nA dozen huge and hairy forms loomed large beneath the trees at the far\nside of the enclosure.  The white giant, one hand freed, had struggled\nto his knees and was calling to the frightful, nocturnal visitors in a\nhideous medley of bestial gutturals, barkings and growlings.\n\nWerper had managed to sit up.  He, too, saw the savage faces of the\napproaching anthropoids and scarcely knew whether to be relieved or\nterror-stricken.\n\nGrowling, the great apes leaped forward toward Tarzan and Werper.\nChulk led them.  The Belgian officer called to his men to fire upon the\nintruders; but the Negroes held back, filled as they were with\nsuperstitious terror of the hairy treemen, and with the conviction that\nthe white giant who could thus summon the beasts of the jungle to his\naid was more than human.\n\nDrawing his own weapon, the officer fired, and Tarzan fearing the\neffect of the noise upon his really timid friends called to them to\nhasten and fulfill his commands.\n\nA couple of the apes turned and fled at the sound of the firearm; but\nChulk and a half dozen others waddled rapidly forward, and, following\nthe ape-man's directions, seized both him and Werper and bore them off\ntoward the jungle.\n\nBy dint of threats, reproaches and profanity the Belgian officer\nsucceeded in persuading his trembling command to fire a volley after\nthe retreating apes.  A ragged, straggling volley it was, but at least\none of its bullets found a mark, for as the jungle closed about the\nhairy rescuers, Chulk, who bore Werper across one broad shoulder,\nstaggered and fell.\n\nIn an instant he was up again; but the Belgian guessed from his\nunsteady gait that he was hard hit.  He lagged far behind the others,\nand it was several minutes after they had halted at Tarzan's command\nbefore he came slowly up to them, reeling from side to side, and at\nlast falling again beneath the weight of his burden and the shock of\nhis wound.\n\nAs Chulk went down he dropped Werper, so that the latter fell face\ndownward with the body of the ape lying half across him.  In this\nposition the Belgian felt something resting against his hands, which\nwere still bound at his back--something that was not a part of the\nhairy body of the ape.\n\nMechanically the man's fingers felt of the object resting almost in\ntheir grasp--it was a soft pouch, filled with small, hard particles.\nWerper gasped in wonderment as recognition filtered through the\nincredulity of his mind.  It was impossible, and yet--it was true!\n\nFeverishly he strove to remove the pouch from the ape and transfer it\nto his own possession; but the restricted radius to which his bonds\nheld his hands prevented this, though he did succeed in tucking the\npouch with its precious contents inside the waist band of his trousers.\n\nTarzan, sitting at a short distance, was busy with the remaining knots\nof the cords which bound him.  Presently he flung aside the last of\nthem and rose to his feet.  Approaching Werper he knelt beside him.\nFor a moment he examined the ape.\n\n\"Quite dead,\" he announced.  \"It is too bad--he was a splendid\ncreature,\" and then he turned to the work of liberating the Belgian.\n\nHe freed his hands first, and then commenced upon the knots at his\nankles.\n\n\"I can do the rest,\" said the Belgian.  \"I have a small pocketknife\nwhich they overlooked when they searched me,\" and in this way he\nsucceeded in ridding himself of the ape-man's attentions that he might\nfind and open his little knife and cut the thong which fastened the\npouch about Chulk's shoulder, and transfer it from his waist band to\nthe breast of his shirt.  Then he rose and approached Tarzan.\n\nOnce again had avarice claimed him.  Forgotten were the good intentions\nwhich the confidence of Jane Clayton in his honor had awakened.  What\nshe had done, the little pouch had undone.  How it had come upon the\nperson of the great ape, Werper could not imagine, unless it had been\nthat the anthropoid had witnessed his fight with Achmet Zek, seen the\nArab with the pouch and taken it away from him; but that this pouch\ncontained the jewels of Opar, Werper was positive, and that was all\nthat interested him greatly.\n\n\"Now,\" said the ape-man, \"keep your promise to me.  Lead me to the spot\nwhere you last saw my wife.\"\n\nIt was slow work pushing through the jungle in the dead of night behind\nthe slow-moving Belgian.  The ape-man chafed at the delay, but the\nEuropean could not swing through the trees as could his more agile and\nmuscular companions, and so the speed of all was limited to that of the\nslowest.\n\nThe apes trailed out behind the two white men for a matter of a few\nmiles; but presently their interest lagged, the foremost of them halted\nin a little glade and the others stopped at his side.  There they sat\npeering from beneath their shaggy brows at the figures of the two men\nforging steadily ahead, until the latter disappeared in the leafy trail\nbeyond the clearing.  Then an ape sought a comfortable couch beneath a\ntree, and one by one the others followed his example, so that Werper\nand Tarzan continued their journey alone; nor was the latter either\nsurprised or concerned.\n\nThe two had gone but a short distance beyond the glade where the apes\nhad deserted them, when the roaring of distant lions fell upon their\nears.  The ape-man paid no attention to the familiar sounds until the\ncrack of a rifle came faintly from the same direction, and when this\nwas followed by the shrill neighing of horses, and an almost continuous\nfusillade of shots intermingled with increased and savage roaring of a\nlarge troop of lions, he became immediately concerned.\n\n\"Someone is having trouble over there,\" he said, turning toward Werper.\n\"I'll have to go to them--they may be friends.\"\n\n\"Your wife might be among them,\" suggested the Belgian, for since he\nhad again come into possession of the pouch he had become fearful and\nsuspicious of the ape-man, and in his mind had constantly revolved many\nplans for eluding this giant Englishman, who was at once his savior and\nhis captor.\n\nAt the suggestion Tarzan started as though struck with a whip.\n\n\"God!\" he cried, \"she might be, and the lions are attacking them--they\nare in the camp.  I can tell from the screams of the horses--and there!\nthat was the cry of a man in his death agonies.  Stay here man--I will\ncome back for you.  I must go first to them,\" and swinging into a tree\nthe lithe figure swung rapidly off into the night with the speed and\nsilence of a disembodied spirit.\n\nFor a moment Werper stood where the ape-man had left him.  Then a\ncunning smile crossed his lips.  \"Stay here?\" he asked himself.  \"Stay\nhere and wait until you return to find and take these jewels from me?\nNot I, my friend, not I,\" and turning abruptly eastward Albert Werper\npassed through the foliage of a hanging vine and out of the sight of\nhis fellow-man--forever.\n\n\n\n\n24\n\nHome\n\n\nAs Tarzan of the Apes hurtled through the trees the discordant sounds\nof the battle between the Abyssinians and the lions smote more and more\ndistinctly upon his sensitive ears, redoubling his assurance that the\nplight of the human element of the conflict was critical indeed.\n\nAt last the glare of the camp fire shone plainly through the\nintervening trees, and a moment later the giant figure of the ape-man\npaused upon an overhanging bough to look down upon the bloody scene of\ncarnage below.\n\nHis quick eye took in the whole scene with a single comprehending\nglance and stopped upon the figure of a woman standing facing a great\nlion across the carcass of a horse.\n\nThe carnivore was crouching to spring as Tarzan discovered the tragic\ntableau.  Numa was almost beneath the branch upon which the ape-man\nstood, naked and unarmed.  There was not even an instant's hesitation\nupon the part of the latter--it was as though he had not even paused in\nhis swift progress through the trees, so lightning-like his survey and\ncomprehension of the scene below him--so instantaneous his consequent\naction.\n\nSo hopeless had seemed her situation to her that Jane Clayton but stood\nin lethargic apathy awaiting the impact of the huge body that would\nhurl her to the ground--awaiting the momentary agony that cruel talons\nand grisly fangs may inflict before the coming of the merciful oblivion\nwhich would end her sorrow and her suffering.\n\nWhat use to attempt escape?  As well face the hideous end as to be\ndragged down from behind in futile flight.  She did not even close her\neyes to shut out the frightful aspect of that snarling face, and so it\nwas that as she saw the lion preparing to charge she saw, too, a\nbronzed and mighty figure leap from an overhanging tree at the instant\nthat Numa rose in his spring.\n\nWide went her eyes in wonder and incredulity, as she beheld this\nseeming apparition risen from the dead.  The lion was forgotten--her\nown peril--everything save the wondrous miracle of this strange\nrecrudescence.  With parted lips, with palms tight pressed against her\nheaving bosom, the girl leaned forward, large-eyed, enthralled by the\nvision of her dead mate.\n\nShe saw the sinewy form leap to the shoulder of the lion, hurtling\nagainst the leaping beast like a huge, animate battering ram.  She saw\nthe carnivore brushed aside as he was almost upon her, and in the\ninstant she realized that no substanceless wraith could thus turn the\ncharge of a maddened lion with brute force greater than the brute's.\n\nTarzan, her Tarzan, lived!  A cry of unspeakable gladness broke from\nher lips, only to die in terror as she saw the utter defenselessness of\nher mate, and realized that the lion had recovered himself and was\nturning upon Tarzan in mad lust for vengeance.\n\nAt the ape-man's feet lay the discarded rifle of the dead Abyssinian\nwhose mutilated corpse sprawled where Numa had abandoned it.  The quick\nglance which had swept the ground for some weapon of defense discovered\nit, and as the lion reared upon his hind legs to seize the rash\nman-thing who had dared interpose its puny strength between Numa and\nhis prey, the heavy stock whirred through the air and splintered upon\nthe broad forehead.\n\nNot as an ordinary mortal might strike a blow did Tarzan of the Apes\nstrike; but with the maddened frenzy of a wild beast backed by the\nsteel thews which his wild, arboreal boyhood had bequeathed him.  When\nthe blow ended the splintered stock was driven through the splintered\nskull into the savage brain, and the heavy iron barrel was bent into a\nrude V.\n\nIn the instant that the lion sank, lifeless, to the ground, Jane\nClayton threw herself into the eager arms of her husband.  For a brief\ninstant he strained her dear form to his breast, and then a glance\nabout him awakened the ape-man to the dangers which still surrounded\nthem.\n\nUpon every hand the lions were still leaping upon new victims.\nFear-maddened horses still menaced them with their erratic bolting from\none side of the enclosure to the other.  Bullets from the guns of the\ndefenders who remained alive but added to the perils of their situation.\n\nTo remain was to court death.  Tarzan seized Jane Clayton and lifted\nher to a broad shoulder.  The blacks who had witnessed his advent\nlooked on in amazement as they saw the naked giant leap easily into the\nbranches of the tree from whence he had dropped so uncannily upon the\nscene, and vanish as he had come, bearing away their prisoner with him.\n\nThey were too well occupied in self-defense to attempt to halt him, nor\ncould they have done so other than by the wasting of a precious bullet\nwhich might be needed the next instant to turn the charge of a savage\nfoe.\n\nAnd so, unmolested, Tarzan passed from the camp of the Abyssinians,\nfrom which the din of conflict followed him deep into the jungle until\ndistance gradually obliterated it entirely.\n\nBack to the spot where he had left Werper went the ape-man, joy in his\nheart now, where fear and sorrow had so recently reigned; and in his\nmind a determination to forgive the Belgian and aid him in making good\nhis escape.  But when he came to the place, Werper was gone, and though\nTarzan called aloud many times he received no reply.  Convinced that\nthe man had purposely eluded him for reasons of his own, John Clayton\nfelt that he was under no obligations to expose his wife to further\ndanger and discomfort in the prosecution of a more thorough search for\nthe missing Belgian.\n\n\"He has acknowledged his guilt by his flight, Jane,\" he said.  \"We will\nlet him go to lie in the bed that he has made for himself.\"\n\nStraight as homing pigeons, the two made their way toward the ruin and\ndesolation that had once been the center of their happy lives, and\nwhich was soon to be restored by the willing black hands of laughing\nlaborers, made happy again by the return of the master and mistress\nwhom they had mourned as dead.\n\nPast the village of Achmet Zek their way led them, and there they found\nbut the charred remains of the palisade and the native huts, still\nsmoking, as mute evidence of the wrath and vengeance of a powerful\nenemy.\n\n\"The Waziri,\" commented Tarzan with a grim smile.\n\n\"God bless them!\" cried Jane Clayton.\n\n\"They cannot be far ahead of us,\" said Tarzan, \"Basuli and the others.\nThe gold is gone and the jewels of Opar, Jane; but we have each other\nand the Waziri--and we have love and loyalty and friendship.  And what\nare gold and jewels to these?\"\n\n\"If only poor Mugambi lived,\" she replied, \"and those other brave\nfellows who sacrificed their lives in vain endeavor to protect me!\"\n\nIn the silence of mingled joy and sorrow they passed along through the\nfamiliar jungle, and as the afternoon was waning there came faintly to\nthe ears of the ape-man the murmuring cadence of distant voices.\n\n\"We are nearing the Waziri, Jane,\" he said.  \"I can hear them ahead of\nus.  They are going into camp for the night, I imagine.\"\n\nA half hour later the two came upon a horde of ebon warriors which\nBasuli had collected for his war of vengeance upon the raiders.  With\nthem were the captured women of the tribe whom they had found in the\nvillage of Achmet Zek, and tall, even among the giant Waziri, loomed a\nfamiliar black form at the side of Basuli.  It was Mugambi, whom Jane\nhad thought dead amidst the charred ruins of the bungalow.\n\nAh, such a reunion!  Long into the night the dancing and the singing\nand the laughter awoke the echoes of the somber wood.  Again and again\nwere the stories of their various adventures retold.  Again and once\nagain they fought their battles with savage beast and savage man, and\ndawn was already breaking when Basuli, for the fortieth time, narrated\nhow he and a handful of his warriors had watched the battle for the\ngolden ingots which the Abyssinians of Abdul Mourak had waged against\nthe Arab raiders of Achmet Zek, and how, when the victors had ridden\naway they had sneaked out of the river reeds and stolen away with the\nprecious ingots to hide them where no robber eye ever could discover\nthem.\n\nPieced out from the fragments of their various experiences with the\nBelgian the truth concerning the malign activities of Albert Werper\nbecame apparent.  Only Lady Greystoke found aught to praise in the\nconduct of the man, and it was difficult even for her to reconcile his\nmany heinous acts with this one evidence of chivalry and honor.\n\n\"Deep in the soul of every man,\" said Tarzan, \"must lurk the germ of\nrighteousness.  It was your own virtue, Jane, rather even than your\nhelplessness which awakened for an instant the latent decency of this\ndegraded man.  In that one act he retrieved himself, and when he is\ncalled to face his Maker may it outweigh in the balance, all the sins\nhe has committed.\"\n\nAnd Jane Clayton breathed a fervent, \"Amen!\"\n\nMonths had passed.  The labor of the Waziri and the gold of Opar had\nrebuilt and refurnished the wasted homestead of the Greystokes.  Once\nmore the simple life of the great African farm went on as it had before\nthe coming of the Belgian and the Arab.  Forgotten were the sorrows and\ndangers of yesterday.\n\nFor the first time in months Lord Greystoke felt that he might indulge\nin a holiday, and so a great hunt was organized that the faithful\nlaborers might feast in celebration of the completion of their work.\n\nIn itself the hunt was a success, and ten days after its inauguration,\na well-laden safari took up its return march toward the Waziri plain.\nLord and Lady Greystoke with Basuli and Mugambi rode together at the\nhead of the column, laughing and talking together in that easy\nfamiliarity which common interests and mutual respect breed between\nhonest and intelligent men of any races.\n\nJane Clayton's horse shied suddenly at an object half hidden in the\nlong grasses of an open space in the jungle.  Tarzan's keen eyes sought\nquickly for an explanation of the animal's action.\n\n\"What have we here?\" he cried, swinging from his saddle, and a moment\nlater the four were grouped about a human skull and a little litter of\nwhitened human bones.\n\nTarzan stooped and lifted a leathern pouch from the grisly relics of a\nman.  The hard outlines of the contents brought an exclamation of\nsurprise to his lips.\n\n\"The jewels of Opar!\" he cried, holding the pouch aloft, \"and,\"\npointing to the bones at his feet, \"all that remains of Werper, the\nBelgian.\"\n\nMugambi laughed.  \"Look within, Bwana,\" he cried, \"and you will see\nwhat are the jewels of Opar--you will see what the Belgian gave his\nlife for,\" and the black laughed aloud.\n\n\"Why do you laugh?\" asked Tarzan.\n\n\"Because,\" replied Mugambi, \"I filled the Belgian's pouch with river\ngravel before I escaped the camp of the Abyssinians whose prisoners we\nwere.  I left the Belgian only worthless stones, while I brought away\nwith me the jewels he had stolen from you.  That they were afterward\nstolen from me while I slept in the jungle is my shame and my disgrace;\nbut at least the Belgian lost them--open his pouch and you will see.\"\n\nTarzan untied the thong which held the mouth of the leathern bag\nclosed, and permitted the contents to trickle slowly forth into his\nopen palm.  Mugambi's eyes went wide at the sight, and the others\nuttered exclamations of surprise and incredulity, for from the rusty\nand weatherworn pouch ran a stream of brilliant, scintillating gems.\n\n\"The jewels of Opar!\" cried Tarzan.  \"But how did Werper come by them\nagain?\"\n\nNone could answer, for both Chulk and Werper were dead, and no other\nknew.\n\n\"Poor devil!\" said the ape-man, as he swung back into his saddle.\n\"Even in death he has made restitution--let his sins lie with his\nbones.\""