Tarzan, Jewels of Opar
by Edgar Rice Burroughs
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

by

Edgar Rice Burroughs  
  
  
  
  
  
                         Contents  
  
CHAPTER                                             PAGE  
   1  Belgian and Arab  
   2  On the Road to Opar  
   3  The Call of the Jungle  
   4  Prophecy and Fulfillment  
   5  The Altar of the Flaming God  
   6  The Arab Raid  
   7  The Jewel-Room of Opar  
   8  The Escape from Opar  
   9  The Theft of the Jewels  
  10  Achmet Zek Sees the Jewels  
  11  Tarzan Becomes a Beast Again  
  12  La Seeks Vengeance  
  13  Condemned to Torture and Death  
  14  A Priestess But Yet a Woman  
  15  The Flight of Werper  
  16  Tarzan Again Leads the Mangani  
  17  The Deadly Peril of Jane Clayton  
  18  The Fight For the Treasure  
  19  Jane Clayton and The Beasts of the Jungle  
  20  Jane Clayton Again a Prisoner  
  21  The Flight to the Jungle  
  22  Tarzan Recovers His Reason  
  23  A Night of Terror  
  24  Home  
  
  
  
Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar  
by Edgar Rice Burroughs  
  
  
  
1  
  
Belgian and Arab  
  
  
Lieutenant Albert Werper had only the prestige of the name  
he had dishonored to thank for his narrow escape from  
being cashiered. At first he had been humbly thankful,  
too, that they had sent him to this Godforsaken Congo post  
instead of court-martialing him, as he had so justly deserved;  
but now six months of the monotony, the frightful isolation and  
the loneliness had wrought a change. The young man brooded  
continually over his fate. His days were filled with morbid  
self-pity, which eventually engendered in his weak and  
vacillating mind a hatred for those who had sent him here--  
for the very men he had at first inwardly thanked for saving him  
from the ignominy of degradation.
  
He regretted the gay life of Brussels as he never had  
regretted the sins which had snatched him from that  
gayest of capitals, and as the days passed he came to  
center his resentment upon the representative in Congo  
land of the authority which had exiled him--his captain  
and immediate superior.
  
This officer was a cold, taciturn man, inspiring little  
love in those directly beneath him, yet respected and  
feared by the black soldiers of his little command.
  
Werper was accustomed to sit for hours glaring at his  
superior as the two sat upon the veranda of their  
common quarters, smoking their evening cigarets in a  
silence which neither seemed desirous of breaking.
The senseless hatred of the lieutenant grew at last into a  
form of mania. The captain's natural taciturnity he  
distorted into a studied attempt to insult him because  
of his past shortcomings. He imagined that his  
superior held him in contempt, and so he chafed and  
fumed inwardly until one evening his madness became  
suddenly homicidal. He fingered the butt of the  
revolver at his hip, his eyes narrowed and his brows  
contracted. At last he spoke.
  
"You have insulted me for the last time!" he cried,  
springing to his feet. "I am an officer and a  
gentleman, and I shall put up with it no longer without  
an accounting from you, you pig."  
  
The captain, an expression of surprise upon his  
features, turned toward his junior. He had seen men  
before with the jungle madness upon them--the madness  
of solitude and unrestrained brooding, and perhaps a  
touch of fever.
  
He rose and extended his hand to lay it upon the  
other's shoulder. Quiet words of counsel were upon his  
lips; but they were never spoken. Werper construed his  
superior's action into an attempt to close with him.
His revolver was on a level with the captain's heart,  
and the latter had taken but a step when Werper pulled  
the trigger. Without a moan the man sank to the rough  
planking of the veranda, and as he fell the mists that  
had clouded Werper's brain lifted, so that he saw  
himself and the deed that he had done in the same light  
that those who must judge him would see them.
  
He heard excited exclamations from the quarters of the  
soldiers and he heard men running in his direction.
They would seize him, and if they didn't kill him they  
would take him down the Congo to a point where a  
properly ordered military tribunal would do so just as  
effectively, though in a more regular manner.
  
Werper had no desire to die. Never before had he so  
yearned for life as in this moment that he had so  
effectively forfeited his right to live. The men were  
nearing him. What was he to do? He glanced about as  
though searching for the tangible form of a legitimate  
excuse for his crime; but he could find only the body  
of the man he had so causelessly shot down.
  
In despair, he turned and fled from the oncoming  
soldiery. Across the compound he ran, his revolver  
still clutched tightly in his hand. At the gates a  
sentry halted him. Werper did not pause to parley or  
to exert the influence of his commission--he merely  
raised his weapon and shot down the innocent black. A  
moment later the fugitive had torn open the gates and  
vanished into the blackness of the jungle, but not  
before he had transferred the rifle and ammunition  
belts of the dead sentry to his own person.
  
All that night Werper fled farther and farther into the  
heart of the wilderness. Now and again the voice of a  
lion brought him to a listening halt; but with cocked  
and ready rifle he pushed ahead again, more fearful of  
the human huntsmen in his rear than of the wild  
carnivora ahead.
  
Dawn came at last, but still the man plodded on.
All sense of hunger and fatigue were lost in the terrors  
of contemplated capture. He could think only of escape.
He dared not pause to rest or eat until there was no  
further danger from pursuit, and so he staggered on  
until at last he fell and could rise no more. How long  
he had fled he did not know, or try to know. When he  
could flee no longer the knowledge that he had reached  
his limit was hidden from him in the unconsciousness of  
utter exhaustion.
  
And thus it was that Achmet Zek, the Arab, found him.
Achmet's followers were for running a spear through the  
body of their hereditary enemy; but Achmet would have  
it otherwise. First he would question the Belgian.
It were easier to question a man first and kill him  
afterward, than kill him first and then question him.
  
So he had Lieutenant Albert Werper carried to his own  
tent, and there slaves administered wine and food in  
small quantities until at last the prisoner regained  
consciousness. As he opened his eyes he saw the faces  
of strange black men about him, and just outside the  
tent the figure of an Arab. Nowhere was the uniform of  
his soldiers to be seen.
  
The Arab turned and seeing the open eyes of the  
prisoner upon him, entered the tent.
  
"I am Achmet Zek," he announced. "Who are you, and  
what were you doing in my country? Where are your  
soldiers?"  
  
Achmet Zek! Werper's eyes went wide, and his heart  
sank. He was in the clutches of the most notorious of  
cut-throats--a hater of all Europeans, especially those  
who wore the uniform of Belgium. For years the  
military forces of Belgian Congo had waged a fruitless  
war upon this man and his followers--a war in which  
quarter had never been asked nor expected by either  
side.
  
But presently in the very hatred of the man for  
Belgians, Werper saw a faint ray of hope for himself.
He, too, was an outcast and an outlaw. So far, at  
least, they possessed a common interest, and Werper  
decided to play upon it for all that it might yield.
  
"I have heard of you," he replied, "and was searching  
for you. My people have turned against me. I hate  
them. Even now their soldiers are searching for me,  
to kill me. I knew that you would protect me from them,  
for you, too, hate them. In return I will take service  
with you. I am a trained soldier. I can fight, and  
your enemies are my enemies."  
  
Achmet Zek eyed the European in silence. In his mind  
he revolved many thoughts, chief among which was that  
the unbeliever lied. Of course there was the chance  
that he did not lie, and if he told the truth then his  
proposition was one well worthy of consideration, since  
fighting men were never over plentiful--especially  
white men with the training and knowledge of military  
matters that a European officer must possess.
  
Achmet Zek scowled and Werper's heart sank; but Werper  
did not know Achmet Zek, who was quite apt to scowl  
where another would smile, and smile where another  
would scowl.
  
"And if you have lied to me," said Achmet Zek, "I will  
kill you at any time. What return, other than your  
life, do you expect for your services?"  
  
"My keep only, at first," replied Werper. "Later, if I  
am worth more, we can easily reach an understanding."  
Werper's only desire at the moment was to preserve his  
life. And so the agreement was reached and Lieutenant  
Albert Werper became a member of the ivory and slave  
raiding band of the notorious Achmet Zek.
  
For months the renegade Belgian rode with the savage  
raider. He fought with a savage abandon, and a vicious  
cruelty fully equal to that of his fellow desperadoes.
Achmet Zek watched his recruit with eagle eye, and with  
a growing satisfaction which finally found expression  
in a greater confidence in the man, and resulted in an  
increased independence of action for Werper.
  
Achmet Zek took the Belgian into his confidence to a  
great extent, and at last unfolded to him a pet scheme  
which the Arab had long fostered, but which he never  
had found an opportunity to effect. With the aid of a  
European, however, the thing might be easily  
accomplished. He sounded Werper.
  
"You have heard of the man men call Tarzan?" he asked.
  
Werper nodded. "I have heard of him; but I do not know  
him."  
  
"But for him we might carry on our 'trading' in safety  
and with great profit," continued the Arab. "For years  
he has fought us, driving us from the richest part of  
the country, harassing us, and arming the natives that  
they may repel us when we come to 'trade.' He is very  
rich. If we could find some way to make him pay us  
many pieces of gold we should not only be avenged upon  
him; but repaid for much that he has prevented us from  
winning from the natives under his protection."  
  
Werper withdrew a cigaret from a jeweled case and  
lighted it.
  
"And you have a plan to make him pay?" he asked.
  
"He has a wife," replied Achmet Zek, "whom men say is  
very beautiful. She would bring a great price farther  
north, if we found it too difficult to collect ransom  
money from this Tarzan."  
  
Werper bent his head in thought. Achmet Zek stood  
awaiting his reply. What good remained in Albert  
Werper revolted at the thought of selling a white woman  
into the slavery and degradation of a Moslem harem.
He looked up at Achmet Zek. He saw the Arab's eyes  
narrow, and he guessed that the other had sensed his  
antagonism to the plan. What would it mean to Werper to  
refuse? His life lay in the hands of this semi-barbarian,   
who esteemed the life of an unbeliever less  
highly than that of a dog. Werper loved life. What  
was this woman to him, anyway? She was a European,  
doubtless, a member of organized society. He was an  
outcast. The hand of every white man was against him.
She was his natural enemy, and if he refused to lend  
himself to her undoing, Achmet Zek would have him  
killed.
  
"You hesitate," murmured the Arab.
  
"I was but weighing the chances of success," lied  
Werper, "and my reward. As a European I can gain  
admittance to their home and table. You have no other  
with you who could do so much. The risk will be great.
I should be well paid, Achmet Zek."  
  
A smile of relief passed over the raider's face.
  
"Well said, Werper," and Achmet Zek slapped his  
lieutenant upon the shoulder. "You should be well paid  
and you shall. Now let us sit together and plan how  
best the thing may be done," and the two men squatted  
upon a soft rug beneath the faded silks of Achmet's  
once gorgeous tent, and talked together in low voices  
well into the night. Both were tall and bearded, and  
the exposure to sun and wind had given an almost Arab  
hue to the European's complexion. In every detail of  
dress, too, he copied the fashions of his chief, so  
that outwardly he was as much an Arab as the other.
It was late when he arose and retired to his own tent.
  
The following day Werper spent in overhauling his  
Belgian uniform, removing from it every vestige of  
evidence that might indicate its military purposes.
From a heterogeneous collection of loot, Achmet Zek  
procured a pith helmet and a European saddle, and from  
his black slaves and followers a party of porters,  
askaris and tent boys to make up a modest safari for a  
big game hunter. At the head of this party Werper set  
out from camp.
  
  
  
2  
  
On the Road To Opar  
  
  
It was two weeks later that John Clayton, Lord  
Greystoke, riding in from a tour of inspection of his  
vast African estate, glimpsed the head of a column of  
men crossing the plain that lay between his bungalow  
and the forest to the north and west.
  
He reined in his horse and watched the little party as  
it emerged from a concealing swale. His keen eyes  
caught the reflection of the sun upon the white helmet  
of a mounted man, and with the conviction that a  
wandering European hunter was seeking his hospitality,  
he wheeled his mount and rode slowly forward to meet  
the newcomer.
  
A half hour later he was mounting the steps leading to  
the veranda of his bungalow, and introducing M. Jules  
Frecoult to Lady Greystoke.
  
"I was completely lost," M. Frecoult was explaining.
"My head man had never before been in this part of the  
country and the guides who were to have accompanied me  
from the last village we passed knew even less of the  
country than we. They finally deserted us two days  
since. I am very fortunate indeed to have stumbled so  
providentially upon succor. I do not know what I  
should have done, had I not found you."  
  
It was decided that Frecoult and his party should  
remain several days, or until they were thoroughly  
rested, when Lord Greystoke would furnish guides to  
lead them safely back into country with which  
Frecoult's head man was supposedly familiar.
  
In his guise of a French gentleman of leisure, Werper  
found little difficulty in deceiving his host and in  
ingratiating himself with both Tarzan and Jane Clayton;  
but the longer he remained the less hopeful he became  
of an easy accomplishment of his designs.
  
Lady Greystoke never rode alone at any great distance  
from the bungalow, and the savage loyalty of the  
ferocious Waziri warriors who formed a great part of  
Tarzan's followers seemed to preclude the possibility  
of a successful attempt at forcible abduction, or of  
the bribery of the Waziri themselves.
  
A week passed, and Werper was no nearer the fulfillment  
of his plan, in so far as he could judge, than upon the  
day of his arrival, but at that very moment something  
occurred which gave him renewed hope and set his mind  
upon an even greater reward than a woman's ransom.
  
A runner had arrived at the bungalow with the weekly  
mail, and Lord Greystoke had spent the afternoon in his  
study reading and answering letters. At dinner he  
seemed distraught, and early in the evening he excused  
himself and retired, Lady Greystoke following him very  
soon after. Werper, sitting upon the veranda, could  
hear their voices in earnest discussion, and having  
realized that something of unusual moment was afoot,  
he quietly rose from his chair, and keeping well in the  
shadow of the shrubbery growing profusely about the  
bungalow, made his silent way to a point beneath the  
window of the room in which his host and hostess slept.
  
Here he listened, and not without result, for almost  
the first words he overheard filled him with  
excitement. Lady Greystoke was speaking as Werper came  
within hearing.
  
"I always feared for the stability of the company," she  
was saying; "but it seems incredible that they should  
have failed for so enormous a sum--unless there has  
been some dishonest manipulation."  
  
"That is what I suspect," replied Tarzan; "but whatever  
the cause, the fact remains that I have lost  
everything, and there is nothing for it but to return  
to Opar and get more."  
  
"Oh, John," cried Lady Greystoke, and Werper could feel  
the shudder through her voice, "is there no other way?
I cannot bear to think of you returning to that  
frightful city. I would rather live in poverty always  
than to have you risk the hideous dangers of Opar."  
  
"You need have no fear," replied Tarzan, laughing.
"I am pretty well able to take care of myself, and were  
I not, the Waziri who will accompany me will see that no  
harm befalls me."  
  
"They ran away from Opar once, and left you to your  
fate," she reminded him.
  
"They will not do it again," he answered. "They were  
very much ashamed of themselves, and were coming back  
when I met them."  
  
"But there must be some other way," insisted the woman.
  
"There is no other way half so easy to obtain another  
fortune, as to go to the treasure vaults of Opar and  
bring it away," he replied. "I shall be very careful,  
Jane, and the chances are that the inhabitants of Opar  
will never know that I have been there again and  
despoiled them of another portion of the treasure, the  
very existence of which they are as ignorant of as they  
would be of its value."  
  
The finality in his tone seemed to assure Lady  
Greystoke that further argument was futile, and so she  
abandoned the subject.
  
Werper remained, listening, for a short time, and then,  
confident that he had overheard all that was necessary  
and fearing discovery, returned to the veranda, where  
he smoked numerous cigarets in rapid succession before  
retiring.
  
The following morning at breakfast, Werper announced  
his intention of making an early departure, and asked  
Tarzan's permission to hunt big game in the Waziri  
country on his way out--permission which Lord Greystoke  
readily granted.
  
The Belgian consumed two days in completing his  
preparations, but finally got away with his safari,  
accompanied by a single Waziri guide whom Lord  
Greystoke had loaned him. The party made but a single  
short march when Werper simulated illness, and  
announced his intention of remaining where he was until  
he had fully recovered. As they had gone but a short  
distance from the Greystoke bungalow, Werper dismissed  
the Waziri guide, telling the warrior that he would  
send for him when he was able to proceed. The Waziri  
gone, the Belgian summoned one of Achmet Zek's trusted  
blacks to his tent, and dispatched him to watch for the  
departure of Tarzan, returning immediately to advise  
Werper of the event and the direction taken by the  
Englishman.
  
The Belgian did not have long to wait, for the  
following day his emissary returned with word that  
Tarzan and a party of fifty Waziri warriors had set out  
toward the southeast early in the morning.
  
Werper called his head man to him, after writing a long  
letter to Achmet Zek. This letter he handed to the  
head man.
  
"Send a runner at once to Achmet Zek with this," he  
instructed the head man. "Remain here in camp awaiting  
further instructions from him or from me. If any come  
from the bungalow of the Englishman, tell them that I  
am very ill within my tent and can see no one. Now,  
give me six porters and six askaris--the strongest and  
bravest of the safari--and I will march after the  
Englishman and discover where his gold is hidden."  
  
And so it was that as Tarzan, stripped to the loin  
cloth and armed after the primitive fashion he best  
loved, led his loyal Waziri toward the dead city of  
Opar, Werper, the renegade, haunted his trail through  
the long, hot days, and camped close behind him by  
night.
  
And as they marched, Achmet Zek rode with his entire  
following southward toward the Greystoke farm.
  
To Tarzan of the Apes the expedition was in the nature  
of a holiday outing. His civilization was at best but  
an outward veneer which he gladly peeled off with his  
uncomfortable European clothes whenever any reasonable  
pretext presented itself. It was a woman's love which  
kept Tarzan even to the semblance of civilization--a  
condition for which familiarity had bred contempt. He  
hated the shams and the hypocrisies of it and with the  
clear vision of an unspoiled mind he had penetrated to  
the rotten core of the heart of the thing--the cowardly  
greed for peace and ease and the safe-guarding of  
property rights. That the fine things of life--art,  
music and literature--had thriven upon such enervating  
ideals he strenuously denied, insisting, rather, that  
they had endured in spite of civilization.
  
"Show me the fat, opulent coward," he was wont to say,  
"who ever originated a beautiful ideal. In the clash  
of arms, in the battle for survival, amid hunger and  
death and danger, in the face of God as manifested in  
the display of Nature's most terrific forces, is born  
all that is finest and best in the human heart and  
mind."  
  
And so Tarzan always came back to Nature in the spirit  
of a lover keeping a long deferred tryst after a period  
behind prison walls. His Waziri, at marrow, were more  
civilized than he. They cooked their meat before they  
ate it and they shunned many articles of food as  
unclean that Tarzan had eaten with gusto all his life  
and so insidious is the virus of hypocrisy that even  
the stalwart ape-man hesitated to give rein to his  
natural longings before them. He ate burnt flesh when  
he would have preferred it raw and unspoiled, and he  
brought down game with arrow or spear when he would far  
rather have leaped upon it from ambush and sunk his  
strong teeth in its jugular; but at last the call of  
the milk of the savage mother that had suckled him in  
infancy rose to an insistent demand--he craved the hot  
blood of a fresh kill and his muscles yearned to pit  
themselves against the savage jungle in the battle for  
existence that had been his sole birthright for the  
first twenty years of his life.
  
  
  
3  
  
The Call of the Jungle  
  
  
Moved by these vague yet all-powerful urgings the  
ape-man lay awake one night in the little thorn boma  
that protected, in a way, his party from the depredations  
of the great carnivora of the jungle. A single warrior  
stood sleepy guard beside the fire that yellow eyes  
out of the darkness beyond the camp made imperative.
The moans and the coughing of the big cats mingled with  
the myriad noises of the lesser denizens of the jungle  
to fan the savage flame in the breast of this savage  
English lord. He tossed upon his bed of grasses,  
sleepless, for an hour and then he rose, noiseless as a  
wraith, and while the Waziri's back was turned, vaulted  
the boma wall in the face of the flaming eyes, swung  
silently into a great tree and was gone.
  
For a time in sheer exuberance of animal spirit he  
raced swiftly through the middle terrace, swinging  
perilously across wide spans from one jungle giant to  
the next, and then he clambered upward to the swaying,  
lesser boughs of the upper terrace where the moon shone  
full upon him and the air was stirred by little breezes  
and death lurked ready in each frail branch. Here he  
paused and raised his face to Goro, the moon.
With uplifted arm he stood, the cry of the bull ape  
quivering upon his lips, yet he remained silent lest he  
arouse his faithful Waziri who were all too familiar  
with the hideous challenge of their master.
  
And then he went on more slowly and with greater  
stealth and caution, for now Tarzan of the Apes was  
seeking a kill. Down to the ground he came in the  
utter blackness of the close-set boles and the  
overhanging verdure of the jungle. He stooped from time  
to time and put his nose close to earth. He sought and  
found a wide game trail and at last his nostrils were  
rewarded with the scent of the fresh spoor of Bara, the  
deer. Tarzan's mouth watered and a low growl escaped  
his patrician lips. Sloughed from him was the last  
vestige of artificial caste--once again he was the  
primeval hunter--the first man--the highest caste type  
of the human race. Up wind he followed the elusive  
spoor with a sense of perception so transcending that  
of ordinary man as to be inconceivable to us. Through  
counter currents of the heavy stench of meat eaters he  
traced the trail of Bara; the sweet and cloying stink  
of Horta, the boar, could not drown his quarry's scent--  
the permeating, mellow musk of the deer's foot.
  
Presently the body scent of the deer told Tarzan that  
his prey was close at hand. It sent him into the trees  
again--into the lower terrace where he could watch the  
ground below and catch with ears and nose the first  
intimation of actual contact with his quarry. Nor was  
it long before the ape-man came upon Bara standing  
alert at the edge of a moon-bathed clearing.
Noiselessly Tarzan crept through the trees until he was  
directly over the deer. In the ape-man's right hand  
was the long hunting knife of his father and in his  
heart the blood lust of the carnivore. Just for an  
instant he poised above the unsuspecting Bara and then  
he launched himself downward upon the sleek back. The  
impact of his weight carried the deer to its knees and  
before the animal could regain its feet the knife had  
found its heart. As Tarzan rose upon the body of his  
kill to scream forth his hideous victory cry into the  
face of the moon the wind carried to his nostrils  
something which froze him to statuesque immobility and  
silence. His savage eyes blazed into the direction  
from which the wind had borne down the warning to him  
and a moment later the grasses at one side of the  
clearing parted and Numa, the lion, strode majestically  
into view. His yellow-green eyes were fastened upon  
Tarzan as he halted just within the clearing and glared  
enviously at the successful hunter, for Numa had had no  
luck this night.
  
From the lips of the ape-man broke a rumbling growl of  
warning. Numa answered but he did not advance.
Instead he stood waving his tail gently to and fro,  
and presently Tarzan squatted upon his kill and cut a  
generous portion from a hind quarter. Numa eyed him  
with growing resentment and rage as, between mouthfuls,  
the ape-man growled out his savage warnings. Now this  
particular lion had never before come in contact with  
Tarzan of the Apes and he was much mystified. Here was  
the appearance and the scent of a man-thing and Numa  
had tasted of human flesh and learned that though not  
the most palatable it was certainly by far the easiest  
to secure, yet there was that in the bestial growls of  
the strange creature which reminded him of formidable  
antagonists and gave him pause, while his hunger and  
the odor of the hot flesh of Bara goaded him almost to  
madness. Always Tarzan watched him, guessing what was  
passing in the little brain of the carnivore and well  
it was that he did watch him, for at last Numa could  
stand it no longer. His tail shot suddenly erect and  
at the same instant the wary ape-man, knowing all too  
well what the signal portended, grasped the remainder  
of the deer's hind quarter between his teeth and leaped  
into a nearby tree as Numa charged him with all the  
speed and a sufficient semblance of the weight of an  
express train.
  
Tarzan's retreat was no indication that he felt fear.
Jungle life is ordered along different lines than ours  
and different standards prevail. Had Tarzan been  
famished he would, doubtless, have stood his ground and  
met the lion's charge. He had done the thing before  
upon more than one occasion, just as in the past he had  
charged lions himself; but tonight he was far from  
famished and in the hind quarter he had carried off  
with him was more raw flesh than he could eat; yet it  
was with no equanimity that he looked down upon Numa  
rending the flesh of Tarzan's kill. The presumption of  
this strange Numa must be punished! And forthwith  
Tarzan set out to make life miserable for the big cat.
Close by were many trees bearing large, hard fruits and  
to one of these the ape-man swung with the agility of a  
squirrel. Then commenced a bombardment which brought  
forth earthshaking roars from Numa. One after another  
as rapidly as he could gather and hurl them, Tarzan  
pelted the hard fruit down upon the lion. It was  
impossible for the tawny cat to eat under that hail of  
missiles--he could but roar and growl and dodge and  
eventually he was driven away entirely from the carcass  
of Bara, the deer. He went roaring and resentful; but  
in the very center of the clearing his voice was  
suddenly hushed and Tarzan saw the great head lower and  
flatten out, the body crouch and the long tail quiver,  
as the beast slunk cautiously toward the trees upon the  
opposite side.
  
Immediately Tarzan was alert. He lifted his head and  
sniffed the slow, jungle breeze. What was it that had  
attracted Numa's attention and taken him soft-footed  
and silent away from the scene of his discomfiture?
Just as the lion disappeared among the trees beyond the  
clearing Tarzan caught upon the down-coming wind the  
explanation of his new interest--the scent spoor of man  
was wafted strongly to the sensitive nostrils. Caching  
the remainder of the deer's hind quarter in the crotch  
of a tree the ape-man wiped his greasy palms upon his  
naked thighs and swung off in pursuit of Numa. A  
broad, well-beaten elephant path led into the forest  
from the clearing. Parallel to this slunk Numa, while  
above him Tarzan moved through the trees, the shadow of  
a wraith. The savage cat and the savage man saw Numa's  
quarry almost simultaneously, though both had known  
before it came within the vision of their eyes that it  
was a black man. Their sensitive nostrils had told  
them this much and Tarzan's had told him that the scent  
spoor was that of a stranger--old and a male, for race  
and sex and age each has its own distinctive scent.
It was an old man that made his way alone through the  
gloomy jungle, a wrinkled, dried up, little old man  
hideously scarred and tattooed and strangely garbed,  
with the skin of a hyena about his shoulders and the  
dried head mounted upon his grey pate. Tarzan  
recognized the ear-marks of the witch-doctor and  
awaited Numa's charge with a feeling of pleasurable  
anticipation, for the ape-man had no love for  
witch-doctors; but in the instant that Numa did charge,  
the white man suddenly recalled that the lion had stolen  
his kill a few minutes before and that revenge is  
sweet.
  
The first intimation the black man had that he was in  
danger was the crash of twigs as Numa charged through  
the bushes into the game trail not twenty yards behind  
him. Then he turned to see a huge, black-maned lion  
racing toward him and even as he turned, Numa seized  
him. At the same instant the ape-man dropped from an  
overhanging limb full upon the lion's back and as he  
alighted he plunged his knife into the tawny side  
behind the left shoulder, tangled the fingers of his  
right hand in the long mane, buried his teeth in Numa's  
neck and wound his powerful legs about the beast's  
torso. With a roar of pain and rage, Numa reared up  
and fell backward upon the ape-man; but still the  
mighty man-thing clung to his hold and repeatedly the  
long knife plunged rapidly into his side. Over and  
over rolled Numa, the lion, clawing and biting at the  
air, roaring and growling horribly in savage attempt to  
reach the thing upon its back. More than once was  
Tarzan almost brushed from his hold. He was battered  
and bruised and covered with blood from Numa and dirt  
from the trail, yet not for an instant did he lessen  
the ferocity of his mad attack nor his grim hold upon  
the back of his antagonist. To have loosened for an  
instant his grip there, would have been to bring him  
within reach of those tearing talons or rending fangs,  
and have ended forever the grim career of this jungle-bred  
English lord. Where he had fallen beneath the  
spring of the lion the witch-doctor lay, torn and  
bleeding, unable to drag himself away and watched the  
terrific battle between these two lords of the jungle.
His sunken eyes glittered and his wrinkled lips moved  
over toothless gums as he mumbled weird incantations to  
the demons of his cult.
  
For a time he felt no doubt as to the outcome--the  
strange white man must certainly succumb to terrible  
Simba--whoever heard of a lone man armed only with a  
knife slaying so mighty a beast! Yet presently the old  
black man's eyes went wider and he commenced to have  
his doubts and misgivings. What wonderful sort of  
creature was this that battled with Simba and held his  
own despite the mighty muscles of the king of beasts  
and slowly there dawned in those sunken eyes, gleaming  
so brightly from the scarred and wrinkled face, the  
light of a dawning recollection. Gropingly backward  
into the past reached the fingers of memory, until at  
last they seized upon a faint picture, faded and yellow  
with the passing years. It was the picture of a lithe,  
white-skinned youth swinging through the trees in  
company with a band of huge apes, and the old eyes  
blinked and a great fear came into them--the  
superstitious fear of one who believes in ghosts and  
spirits and demons.
  
And came the time once more when the witch-doctor no  
longer doubted the outcome of the duel, yet his first  
judgment was reversed, for now he knew that the jungle  
god would slay Simba and the old black was even more  
terrified of his own impending fate at the hands of the  
victor than he had been by the sure and sudden death  
which the triumphant lion would have meted out to him.
He saw the lion weaken from loss of blood. He saw the  
mighty limbs tremble and stagger and at last he saw the  
beast sink down to rise no more. He saw the forest god  
or demon rise from the vanquished foe, and placing a  
foot upon the still quivering carcass, raise his face  
to the moon and bay out a hideous cry that froze the  
ebbing blood in the veins of the witch-doctor.
  
  
  
4  
  
Prophecy and Fulfillment  
  
  
Then Tarzan turned his attention to the man. He had  
not slain Numa to save the Negro--he had merely done it  
in revenge upon the lion; but now that he saw the old  
man lying helpless and dying before him something akin  
to pity touched his savage heart. In his youth he  
would have slain the witch-doctor without the slightest  
compunction; but civilization had had its softening  
effect upon him even as it does upon the nations and  
races which it touches, though it had not yet gone far  
enough with Tarzan to render him either cowardly or  
effeminate. He saw an old man suffering and dying, and  
he stooped and felt of his wounds and stanched the flow  
of blood.
  
"Who are you?" asked the old man in a trembling voice.
  
"I am Tarzan--Tarzan of the Apes," replied the ape-man  
and not without a greater touch of pride than he would  
have said, "I am John Clayton, Lord Greystoke."  
  
The witch-doctor shook convulsively and closed his  
eyes. When he opened them again there was in them a  
resignation to whatever horrible fate awaited him at  
the hands of this feared demon of the woods. "Why do  
you not kill me?" he asked.
  
"Why should I kill you?" inquired Tarzan.
"You have not harmed me, and anyway you are already dying.
Numa, the lion, has killed you."  
  
"You would not kill me?" Surprise and incredulity were  
in the tones of the quavering old voice.
  
"I would save you if I could," replied Tarzan, "but  
that cannot be done. Why did you think I would kill  
you?"  
  
For a moment the old man was silent. When he spoke it  
was evidently after some little effort to muster his  
courage. "I knew you of old," he said, "when you  
ranged the jungle in the country of Mbonga, the chief.
I was already a witch-doctor when you slew Kulonga and  
the others, and when you robbed our huts and our poison  
pot. At first I did not remember you; but at last I  
did--the white-skinned ape that lived with the hairy  
apes and made life miserable in the village of Mbonga,  
the chief--the forest god--the Munango-Keewati for whom  
we set food outside our gates and who came and ate it.
Tell me before I die--are you man or devil?"  
  
Tarzan laughed. "I am a man," he said.
  
The old fellow sighed and shook his head. "You have  
tried to save me from Simba," he said. "For that I  
shall reward you. I am a great witch-doctor. Listen  
to me, white man! I see bad days ahead of you. It is  
writ in my own blood which I have smeared upon my palm.
A god greater even than you will rise up and strike you  
down. Turn back, Munango-Keewati! Turn back before it  
is too late. Danger lies ahead of you and danger lurks  
behind; but greater is the danger before. I see--"  
He paused and drew a long, gasping breath. Then he  
crumpled into a little, wrinkled heap and died.
Tarzan wondered what else he had seen.
  
It was very late when the ape-man re-entered the boma  
and lay down among his black warriors. None had seen  
him go and none saw him return. He thought about the  
warning of the old witch-doctor before he fell asleep  
and he thought of it again after he awoke; but he did  
not turn back for he was unafraid, though had he known  
what lay in store for one he loved most in all the  
world he would have flown through the trees to her side  
and allowed the gold of Opar to remain forever hidden  
in its forgotten storehouse.
  
Behind him that morning another white man pondered  
something he had heard during the night and very nearly  
did he give up his project and turn back upon his  
trail. It was Werper, the murderer, who in the still  
of the night had heard far away upon the trail ahead of  
him a sound that had filled his cowardly soul with  
terror--a sound such as he never before had heard in  
all his life, nor dreamed that such a frightful thing  
could emanate from the lungs of a God-created creature.
He had heard the victory cry of the bull ape as Tarzan  
had screamed it forth into the face of Goro, the moon,  
and he had trembled then and hidden his face; and now  
in the broad light of a new day he trembled again as he  
recalled it, and would have turned back from the  
nameless danger the echo of that frightful sound seemed  
to portend, had he not stood in even greater fear of  
Achmet Zek, his master.
  
And so Tarzan of the Apes forged steadily ahead toward  
Opar's ruined ramparts and behind him slunk Werper,  
jackal-like, and only God knew what lay in store for  
each.
  
At the edge of the desolate valley, overlooking the  
golden domes and minarets of Opar, Tarzan halted.
By night he would go alone to the treasure vault,  
reconnoitering, for he had determined that caution  
should mark his every move upon this expedition.
  
With the coming of night he set forth, and Werper, who  
had scaled the cliffs alone behind the ape-man's party,  
and hidden through the day among the rough boulders of  
the mountain top, slunk stealthily after him. The  
boulder-strewn plain between the valley's edge and the  
mighty granite kopje, outside the city's walls, where  
lay the entrance to the passage-way leading to the  
treasure vault, gave the Belgian ample cover as he  
followed Tarzan toward Opar.
  
He saw the giant ape-man swing himself nimbly up the  
face of the great rock. Werper, clawing fearfully  
during the perilous ascent, sweating in terror, almost  
palsied by fear, but spurred on by avarice, following  
upward, until at last he stood upon the summit of the  
rocky hill.
  
Tarzan was nowhere in sight. For a time Werper hid  
behind one of the lesser boulders that were scattered  
over the top of the hill, but, seeing or hearing  
nothing of the Englishman, he crept from his place of  
concealment to undertake a systematic search of his  
surroundings, in the hope that he might discover the  
location of the treasure in ample time to make his  
escape before Tarzan returned, for it was the Belgian's  
desire merely to locate the gold, that, after Tarzan  
had departed, he might come in safety with his  
followers and carry away as much as he could transport.
  
He found the narrow cleft leading downward into the  
heart of the kopje along well-worn, granite steps. He  
advanced quite to the dark mouth of the tunnel into  
which the runway disappeared; but here he halted,  
fearing to enter, lest he meet Tarzan returning.
  
The ape-man, far ahead of him, groped his way along the  
rocky passage, until he came to the ancient wooden  
door. A moment later he stood within the treasure  
chamber, where, ages since, long-dead hands had ranged  
the lofty rows of precious ingots for the rulers of  
that great continent which now lies submerged beneath  
the waters of the Atlantic.
  
No sound broke the stillness of the subterranean vault.
There was no evidence that another had discovered the  
forgotten wealth since last the ape-man had visited its  
hiding place.
  
Satisfied, Tarzan turned and retraced his steps toward  
the summit of the kopje. Werper, from the concealment  
of a jutting, granite shoulder, watched him pass up  
from the shadows of the stairway and advance toward the  
edge of the hill which faced the rim of the valley  
where the Waziri awaited the signal of their master.
Then Werper, slipping stealthily from his hiding place,  
dropped into the somber darkness of the entrance and  
disappeared.
  
Tarzan, halting upon the kopje's edge, raised his voice  
in the thunderous roar of a lion. Twice, at regular  
intervals, he repeated the call, standing in attentive  
silence for several minutes after the echoes of the  
third call had died away. And then, from far across  
the valley, faintly, came an answering roar--once,  
twice, thrice. Basuli, the Waziri chieftain, had heard  
and replied.
  
Tarzan again made his way toward the treasure vault,  
knowing that in a few hours his blacks would be with  
him, ready to bear away another fortune in the  
strangely shaped, golden ingots of Opar. In the  
meantime he would carry as much of the precious metal  
to the summit of the kopje as he could.
  
Six trips he made in the five hours before Basuli  
reached the kopje, and at the end of that time he had  
transported forty-eight ingots to the edge of the great  
boulder, carrying upon each trip a load which might  
well have staggered two ordinary men, yet his giant  
frame showed no evidence of fatigue, as he helped to  
raise his ebon warriors to the hill top with the rope  
that had been brought for the purpose.
  
Six times he had returned to the treasure chamber, and  
six times Werper, the Belgian, had cowered in the black  
shadows at the far end of the long vault. Once again  
came the ape-man, and this time there came with him  
fifty fighting men, turning porters for love of the  
only creature in the world who might command of their  
fierce and haughty natures such menial service. Fifty-two  
more ingots passed out of the vaults, making the total  
of one hundred which Tarzan intended taking away  
with him.
  
As the last of the Waziri filed from the chamber,  
Tarzan turned back for a last glimpse of the fabulous  
wealth upon which his two inroads had made no  
appreciable impression. Before he extinguished the  
single candle he had brought with him for the purpose,  
and the flickering light of which had cast the first  
alleviating rays into the impenetrable darkness of the  
buried chamber, that it had known for the countless  
ages since it had lain forgotten of man, Tarzan's mind  
reverted to that first occasion upon which he had  
entered the treasure vault, coming upon it by chance as  
he fled from the pits beneath the temple, where he had  
been hidden by La, the High Priestess of the Sun  
Worshipers.
  
He recalled the scene within the temple when he had  
lain stretched upon the sacrificial altar, while La,  
with high-raised dagger, stood above him, and the rows  
of priests and priestesses awaited, in the ecstatic  
hysteria of fanaticism, the first gush of their  
victim's warm blood, that they might fill their golden  
goblets and drink to the glory of their Flaming God.
  
The brutal and bloody interruption by Tha, the mad  
priest, passed vividly before the ape-man's  
recollective eyes, the flight of the votaries before  
the insane blood lust of the hideous creature, the  
brutal attack upon La, and his own part of the grim  
tragedy when he had battled with the infuriated Oparian  
and left him dead at the feet of the priestess he would  
have profaned.
  
This and much more passed through Tarzan's memory as  
he stood gazing at the long tiers of dull-yellow metal.
He wondered if La still ruled the temples of the ruined  
city whose crumbling walls rose upon the very  
foundations about him. Had she finally been forced  
into a union with one of her grotesque priests?
It seemed a hideous fate, indeed, for one so beautiful.
With a shake of his head, Tarzan stepped to the  
flickering candle, extinguished its feeble rays and  
turned toward the exit.
  
Behind him the spy waited for him to be gone. He had  
learned the secret for which he had come, and now he  
could return at his leisure to his waiting followers,  
bring them to the treasure vault and carry away all the  
gold that they could stagger under.
  
The Waziri had reached the outer end of the tunnel,  
and were winding upward toward the fresh air and the  
welcome starlight of the kopje's summit, before Tarzan  
shook off the detaining hand of reverie and started  
slowly after them.
  
Once again, and, he thought, for the last time, he  
closed the massive door of the treasure room. In the  
darkness behind him Werper rose and stretched his  
cramped muscles. He stretched forth a hand and  
lovingly caressed a golden ingot on the nearest tier.
He raised it from its immemorial resting place and  
weighed it in his hands. He clutched it to his bosom  
in an ecstasy of avarice.
  
Tarzan dreamed of the happy homecoming which lay before  
him, of dear arms about his neck, and a soft cheek  
pressed to his; but there rose to dispel that dream the  
memory of the old witch-doctor and his warning.
  
And then, in the span of a few brief seconds, the hopes  
of both these men were shattered. The one forgot even  
his greed in the panic of terror--the other was plunged  
into total forgetfulness of the past by a jagged  
fragment of rock which gashed a deep cut upon his head.
  
  
  
5  
  
The Altar of the Flaming God  
  
  
It was at the moment that Tarzan turned from the closed  
door to pursue his way to the outer world. The thing  
came without warning. One instant all was quiet and  
stability--the next, and the world rocked, the tortured  
sides of the narrow passageway split and crumbled,  
great blocks of granite, dislodged from the ceiling,  
tumbled into the narrow way, choking it, and the walls  
bent inward upon the wreckage. Beneath the blow of a  
fragment of the roof, Tarzan staggered back against the  
door to the treasure room, his weight pushed it open  
and his body rolled inward upon the floor.
  
In the great apartment where the treasure lay less  
damage was wrought by the earthquake. A few ingots  
toppled from the higher tiers, a single piece of the  
rocky ceiling splintered off and crashed downward to  
the floor, and the walls cracked, though they did not  
collapse.
  
There was but the single shock, no other followed to  
complete the damage undertaken by the first. Werper,  
thrown to his length by the suddenness and violence of  
the disturbance, staggered to his feet when he found  
himself unhurt. Groping his way toward the far end of  
the chamber, he sought the candle which Tarzan had left  
stuck in its own wax upon the protruding end of an  
ingot.
  
By striking numerous matches the Belgian at last found  
what he sought, and when, a moment later, the sickly  
rays relieved the Stygian darkness about him, he  
breathed a nervous sigh of relief, for the impenetrable  
gloom had accentuated the terrors of his situation.
  
As they became accustomed to the light the man turned  
his eyes toward the door--his one thought now was of  
escape from this frightful tomb--and as he did so he  
saw the body of the naked giant lying stretched upon  
the floor just within the doorway. Werper drew back in  
sudden fear of detection; but a second glance convinced  
him that the Englishman was dead. From a great gash in  
the man's head a pool of blood had collected upon the  
concrete floor.
  
Quickly, the Belgian leaped over the prostrate form of  
his erstwhile host, and without a thought of succor for  
the man in whom, for aught he knew, life still  
remained, he bolted for the passageway and safety.
  
But his renewed hopes were soon dashed. Just beyond  
the doorway he found the passage completely clogged and  
choked by impenetrable masses of shattered rock.
Once more he turned and re-entered the treasure vault.
Taking the candle from its place he commenced a  
systematic search of the apartment, nor had he gone far  
before he discovered another door in the opposite end  
of the room, a door which gave upon creaking hinges to  
the weight of his body. Beyond the door lay another  
narrow passageway. Along this Werper made his way,  
ascending a flight of stone steps to another corridor  
twenty feet above the level of the first. The  
flickering candle lighted the way before him, and a  
moment later he was thankful for the possession of this  
crude and antiquated luminant, which, a few hours  
before he might have looked upon with contempt, for it  
showed him, just in time, a yawning pit, apparently  
terminating the tunnel he was traversing.
  
Before him was a circular shaft. He held the candle  
above it and peered downward. Below him, at a great  
distance, he saw the light reflected back from the  
surface of a pool of water. He had come upon a well.
He raised the candle above his head and peered across  
the black void, and there upon the opposite side he saw  
the continuation of the tunnel; but how was he to span  
the gulf?
  
As he stood there measuring the distance to the  
opposite side and wondering if he dared venture so  
great a leap, there broke suddenly upon his startled  
ears a piercing scream which diminished gradually until  
it ended in a series of dismal moans. The voice seemed  
partly human, yet so hideous that it might well have  
emanated from the tortured throat of a lost soul,  
writhing in the fires of hell.
  
The Belgian shuddered and looked fearfully upward,  
for the scream had seemed to come from above him.
As he looked he saw an opening far overhead, and a  
patch of sky pinked with brilliant stars.
  
His half-formed intention to call for help was expunged  
by the terrifying cry--where such a voice lived, no  
human creatures could dwell. He dared not reveal  
himself to whatever inhabitants dwelt in the place  
above him. He cursed himself for a fool that he had  
ever embarked upon such a mission. He wished himself  
safely back in the camp of Achmet Zek, and would almost  
have embraced an opportunity to give himself up to the  
military authorities of the Congo if by so doing he  
might be rescued from the frightful predicament in  
which he now was.
  
He listened fearfully, but the cry was not repeated,  
and at last spurred to desperate means, he gathered  
himself for the leap across the chasm. Going back  
twenty paces, he took a running start, and at the edge  
of the well, leaped upward and outward in an attempt to  
gain the opposite side.
  
In his hand he clutched the sputtering candle,  
and as he took the leap the rush of air extinguished it.
In utter darkness he flew through space, clutching outward  
for a hold should his feet miss the invisible ledge.
  
He struck the edge of the door of the opposite terminus  
of the rocky tunnel with his knees, slipped backward,  
clutched desperately for a moment, and at last hung  
half within and half without the opening; but he was safe.
For several minutes he dared not move; but  
clung, weak and sweating, where he lay. At last,  
cautiously, he drew himself well within the tunnel,  
and again he lay at full length upon the floor,  
fighting to regain control of his shattered nerves.
  
When his knees struck the edge of the tunnel he had  
dropped the candle. Presently, hoping against hope  
that it had fallen upon the floor of the passageway,  
rather than back into the depths of the well, he rose  
upon all fours and commenced a diligent search for the  
little tallow cylinder, which now seemed infinitely  
more precious to him than all the fabulous wealth of  
the hoarded ingots of Opar.
  
And when, at last, he found it, he clasped it to him  
and sank back sobbing and exhausted. For many minutes  
he lay trembling and broken; but finally he drew  
himself to a sitting posture, and taking a match from  
his pocket, lighted the stump of the candle which  
remained to him. With the light he found it easier to  
regain control of his nerves, and presently he was  
again making his way along the tunnel in search of an  
avenue of escape. The horrid cry that had come down to  
him from above through the ancient well-shaft still  
haunted him, so that he trembled in terror at even the  
sounds of his own cautious advance.
  
He had gone forward but a short distance, when, to his  
chagrin, a wall of masonry barred his farther progress,  
closing the tunnel completely from top to bottom and  
from side to side. What could it mean? Werper was an  
educated and intelligent man. His military training  
had taught him to use his mind for the purpose for  
which it was intended. A blind tunnel such as this was  
senseless. It must continue beyond the wall. Someone,  
at some time in the past, had had it blocked for an  
unknown purpose of his own. The man fell to examining  
the masonry by the light of his candle. To his delight  
he discovered that the thin blocks of hewn stone of  
which it was constructed were fitted in loosely without  
mortar or cement. He tugged upon one of them, and to  
his joy found that it was easily removable. One after  
another he pulled out the blocks until he had opened an  
aperture large enough to admit his body, then he  
crawled through into a large, low chamber. Across this  
another door barred his way; but this, too, gave before  
his efforts, for it was not barred. A long, dark  
corridor showed before him, but before he had followed  
it far, his candle burned down until it scorched his  
fingers. With an oath he dropped it to the floor,  
where it sputtered for a moment and went out.
  
Now he was in total darkness, and again terror rode  
heavily astride his neck. What further pitfalls and  
dangers lay ahead he could not guess; but that he was  
as far as ever from liberty he was quite willing to  
believe, so depressing is utter absence of light to one  
in unfamiliar surroundings.
  
Slowly he groped his way along, feeling with his hands  
upon the tunnel's walls, and cautiously with his feet  
ahead of him upon the floor before he could take a  
single forward step. How long he crept on thus he  
could not guess; but at last, feeling that the tunnel's  
length was interminable, and exhausted by his efforts,  
by terror, and loss of sleep, he determined to lie down  
and rest before proceeding farther.
  
When he awoke there was no change in the surrounding  
blackness. He might have slept a second or a day--he  
could not know; but that he had slept for some time was  
attested by the fact that he felt refreshed and hungry.
  
Again he commenced his groping advance; but this time  
he had gone but a short distance when he emerged into a  
room, which was lighted through an opening in the  
ceiling, from which a flight of concrete steps led  
downward to the floor of the chamber.
  
Above him, through the aperture, Werper could see  
sunlight glancing from massive columns, which were  
twined about by clinging vines. He listened; but he  
heard no sound other than the soughing of the wind  
through leafy branches, the hoarse cries of birds,  
and the chattering of monkeys.
  
Boldly he ascended the stairway, to find himself in a  
circular court. Just before him stood a stone altar,  
stained with rusty-brown discolorations. At the time  
Werper gave no thought to an explanation of these  
stains--later their origin became all too hideously  
apparent to him.
  
Beside the opening in the floor, just behind the altar,  
through which he had entered the court from the  
subterranean chamber below, the Belgian discovered  
several doors leading from the enclosure upon the level  
of the floor. Above, and circling the courtyard, was a  
series of open balconies. Monkeys scampered about the  
deserted ruins, and gaily plumaged birds flitted in and  
out among the columns and the galleries far above; but  
no sign of human presence was discernible. Werper felt  
relieved. He sighed, as though a great weight had been  
lifted from his shoulders. He took a step toward one  
of the exits, and then he halted, wide-eyed in  
astonishment and terror, for almost at the same instant  
a dozen doors opened in the courtyard wall and a horde  
of frightful men rushed in upon him.
  
They were the priests of the Flaming God of Opar--the  
same, shaggy, knotted, hideous little men who had  
dragged Jane Clayton to the sacrificial altar at this  
very spot years before. Their long arms, their short  
and crooked legs, their close-set, evil eyes, and their  
low, receding foreheads gave them a bestial appearance  
that sent a qualm of paralyzing fright through the  
shaken nerves of the Belgian.
  
With a scream he turned to flee back into the lesser  
terrors of the gloomy corridors and apartments from  
which he had just emerged, but the frightful men  
anticipated his intentions. They blocked the way;  
they seized him, and though he fell, groveling upon his  
knees before them, begging for his life, they bound him  
and hurled him to the floor of the inner temple.
  
The rest was but a repetition of what Tarzan and Jane  
Clayton had passed through. The priestesses came,  
and with them La, the High Priestess. Werper was raised  
and laid across the altar. Cold sweat exuded from his  
every pore as La raised the cruel, sacrificial knife  
above him. The death chant fell upon his tortured  
ears. His staring eyes wandered to the golden goblets  
from which the hideous votaries would soon quench their  
inhuman thirst in his own, warm life-blood.
  
He wished that he might be granted the brief respite of  
unconsciousness before the final plunge of the keen  
blade--and then there was a frightful roar that sounded  
almost in his ears. The High Priestess lowered her  
dagger. Her eyes went wide in horror. The  
priestesses, her votaresses, screamed and fled madly  
toward the exits. The priests roared out their rage  
and terror according to the temper of their courage.
Werper strained his neck about to catch a sight of the  
cause of their panic, and when, at last he saw it, he  
too went cold in dread, for what his eyes beheld was  
the figure of a huge lion standing in the center of the  
temple, and already a single victim lay mangled beneath  
his cruel paws.
  
Again the lord of the wilderness roared, turning his  
baleful gaze upon the altar. La staggered forward,  
reeled, and fell across Werper in a swoon.
  
  
  
6  
  
The Arab Raid  
  
  
After their first terror had subsided subsequent to the  
shock of the earthquake, Basuli and his warriors  
hastened back into the passageway in search of Tarzan  
and two of their own number who were also missing.
  
They found the way blocked by jammed and distorted  
rock. For two days they labored to tear a way through  
to their imprisoned friends; but when, after Herculean  
efforts, they had unearthed but a few yards of the  
choked passage, and discovered the mangled remains of  
one of their fellows they were forced to the conclusion  
that Tarzan and the second Waziri also lay dead beneath  
the rock mass farther in, beyond human aid, and no  
longer susceptible of it.
  
Again and again as they labored they called aloud the  
names of their master and their comrade; but no  
answering call rewarded their listening ears. At last  
they gave up the search. Tearfully they cast a last  
look at the shattered tomb of their master, shouldered  
the heavy burden of gold that would at least furnish  
comfort, if not happiness, to their bereaved and  
beloved mistress, and made their mournful way back  
across the desolate valley of Opar, and downward  
through the forests beyond toward the distant bungalow.
  
And as they marched what sorry fate was already drawing  
down upon that peaceful, happy home!
  
From the north came Achmet Zek, riding to the summons  
of his lieutenant's letter. With him came his horde of  
renegade Arabs, outlawed marauders, these, and equally  
degraded blacks, garnered from the more debased and  
ignorant tribes of savage cannibals through whose  
countries the raider passed to and fro with perfect  
impunity.
  
Mugambi, the ebon Hercules, who had shared the dangers  
and vicissitudes of his beloved Bwana, from Jungle  
Island, almost to the headwaters of the Ugambi,  
was the first to note the bold approach of the  
sinister caravan.
  
He it was whom Tarzan had left in charge of the  
warriors who remained to guard Lady Greystoke, nor  
could a braver or more loyal guardian have been found  
in any clime or upon any soil. A giant in stature,  
a savage, fearless warrior, the huge black possessed also  
soul and judgment in proportion to his bulk and his ferocity.
  
Not once since his master had departed had he been  
beyond sight or sound of the bungalow, except when Lady  
Greystoke chose to canter across the broad plain, or  
relieve the monotony of her loneliness by a brief  
hunting excursion. On such occasions Mugambi, mounted  
upon a wiry Arab, had ridden close at her horse's  
heels.
  
The raiders were still a long way off when the  
warrior's keen eyes discovered them. For a time he  
stood scrutinizing the advancing party in silence,  
then he turned and ran rapidly in the direction of the  
native huts which lay a few hundred yards below the bungalow.
  
Here he called out to the lolling warriors. He issued  
orders rapidly. In compliance with them the men seized  
upon their weapons and their shields. Some ran to call  
in the workers from the fields and to warn the tenders  
of the flocks and herds. The majority followed Mugambi  
back toward the bungalow.
  
The dust of the raiders was still a long distance away.
Mugambi could not know positively that it hid an enemy;  
but he had spent a lifetime of savage life in savage  
Africa, and he had seen parties before come thus  
unheralded. Sometimes they had come in peace and  
sometimes they had come in war--one could never tell.
It was well to be prepared. Mugambi did not like the  
haste with which the strangers advanced.
  
The Greystoke bungalow was not well adapted for  
defense. No palisade surrounded it, for, situated as  
it was, in the heart of loyal Waziri, its master had  
anticipated no possibility of an attack in force by any  
enemy. Heavy, wooden shutters there were to close the  
window apertures against hostile arrows, and these  
Mugambi was engaged in lowering when Lady Greystoke  
appeared upon the veranda.
  
"Why, Mugambi!" she exclaimed. "What has happened?
Why are you lowering the shutters?"  
  
Mugambi pointed out across the plain to where a white-robed  
force of mounted men was now distinctly visible.
  
"Arabs," he explained. "They come for no good purpose  
in the absence of the Great Bwana."  
  
Beyond the neat lawn and the flowering shrubs, Jane  
Clayton saw the glistening bodies of her Waziri.
The sun glanced from the tips of their metal-shod spears,  
picked out the gorgeous colors in the feathers of their  
war bonnets, and reflected the high-lights from the  
glossy skins of their broad shoulders and high cheek bones.
  
Jane Clayton surveyed them with unmixed feelings of  
pride and affection. What harm could befall her with  
such as these to protect her?
  
The raiders had halted now, a hundred yards out upon  
the plain. Mugambi had hastened down to join his  
warriors. He advanced a few yards before them and  
raising his voice hailed the strangers. Achmet Zek sat  
straight in his saddle before his henchmen.
  
"Arab!" cried Mugambi. "What do you here?"  
  
"We come in peace," Achmet Zek called back.
  
"Then turn and go in peace," replied Mugambi.
"We do not want you here. There can be no peace between  
Arab and Waziri."  
  
Mugambi, although not born in Waziri, had been adopted  
into the tribe, which now contained no member more  
jealous of its traditions and its prowess than he.
  
Achmet Zek drew to one side of his horde, speaking to  
his men in a low voice. A moment later, without  
warning, a ragged volley was poured into the ranks of  
the Waziri. A couple of warriors fell, the others were  
for charging the attackers; but Mugambi was a cautious  
as well as a brave leader. He knew the futility of  
charging mounted men armed with muskets. He withdrew  
his force behind the shrubbery of the garden. Some he  
dispatched to various other parts of the grounds  
surrounding the bungalow. Half a dozen he sent to the  
bungalow itself with instructions to keep their  
mistress within doors, and to protect her with their lives.
  
Adopting the tactics of the desert fighters from which  
he had sprung, Achmet Zek led his followers at a gallop  
in a long, thin line, describing a great circle which  
drew closer and closer in toward the defenders.
  
At that part of the circle closest to the Waziri,  
a constant fusillade of shots was poured into the bushes  
behind which the black warriors had concealed  
themselves. The latter, on their part, loosed their  
slim shafts at the nearest of the enemy.
  
The Waziri, justly famed for their archery, found no  
cause to blush for their performance that day.
Time and again some swarthy horseman threw hands above  
his head and toppled from his saddle, pierced by a  
deadly arrow; but the contest was uneven. The Arabs  
outnumbered the Waziri; their bullets penetrated the  
shrubbery and found marks that the Arab riflemen had  
not even seen; and then Achmet Zek circled inward a  
half mile above the bungalow, tore down a section of  
the fence, and led his marauders within the grounds.
  
Across the fields they charged at a mad run. Not again  
did they pause to lower fences, instead, they drove  
their wild mounts straight for them, clearing the  
obstacles as lightly as winged gulls.
  
Mugambi saw them coming, and, calling those of his  
warriors who remained, ran for the bungalow and the  
last stand. Upon the veranda Lady Greystoke stood,  
rifle in hand. More than a single raider had accounted  
to her steady nerves and cool aim for his outlawry;  
more than a single pony raced, riderless, in the wake  
of the charging horde.
  
Mugambi pushed his mistress back into the greater  
security of the interior, and with his depleted force  
prepared to make a last stand against the foe.
  
On came the Arabs, shouting and waving their long guns  
above their heads. Past the veranda they raced,  
pouring a deadly fire into the kneeling Waziri who  
discharged their volley of arrows from behind their  
long, oval shields--shields well adapted, perhaps,  
to stop a hostile arrow, or deflect a spear; but futile,  
quite, before the leaden missiles of the riflemen.
  
From beneath the half-raised shutters of the bungalow  
other bowmen did effective service in greater security,  
and after the first assault, Mugambi withdrew his  
entire force within the building.
  
Again and again the Arabs charged, at last forming a  
stationary circle about the little fortress, and  
outside the effective range of the defenders' arrows.
From their new position they fired at will at the  
windows. One by one the Waziri fell. Fewer and fewer  
were the arrows that replied to the guns of the  
raiders, and at last Achmet Zek felt safe in ordering  
an assault.
  
Firing as they ran, the bloodthirsty horde raced for  
the veranda. A dozen of them fell to the arrows of the  
defenders; but the majority reached the door.
Heavy gun butts fell upon it. The crash of splintered  
wood mingled with the report of a rifle as Jane Clayton  
fired through the panels upon the relentless foe.
  
Upon both sides of the door men fell; but at last the  
frail barrier gave to the vicious assaults of the  
maddened attackers; it crumpled inward and a dozen  
swarthy murderers leaped into the living-room.
At the far end stood Jane Clayton surrounded by the remnant  
of her devoted guardians. The floor was covered by the  
bodies of those who already had given up their lives in  
her defense. In the forefront of her protectors stood  
the giant Mugambi. The Arabs raised their rifles to  
pour in the last volley that would effectually end all  
resistance; but Achmet Zek roared out a warning order  
that stayed their trigger fingers.
  
"Fire not upon the woman!" he cried. "Who harms her,  
dies. Take the woman alive!"  
  
The Arabs rushed across the room; the Waziri met them  
with their heavy spears. Swords flashed, long-barreled  
pistols roared out their sullen death dooms. Mugambi  
launched his spear at the nearest of the enemy with a  
force that drove the heavy shaft completely through the  
Arab's body, then he seized a pistol from another, and  
grasping it by the barrel brained all who forced their  
way too near his mistress.
  
Emulating his example the few warriors who remained to  
him fought like demons; but one by one they fell, until  
only Mugambi remained to defend the life and honor of  
the ape-man's mate.
  
From across the room Achmet Zek watched the unequal  
struggle and urged on his minions. In his hands was a  
jeweled musket. Slowly he raised it to his shoulder,  
waiting until another move should place Mugambi at his  
mercy without endangering the lives of the woman or any  
of his own followers.
  
At last the moment came, and Achmet Zek pulled the  
trigger. Without a sound the brave Mugambi sank to the  
floor at the feet of Jane Clayton.
  
An instant later she was surrounded and disarmed.
Without a word they dragged her from the bungalow.
A giant Negro lifted her to the pommel of his saddle,  
and while the raiders searched the bungalow and outhouses  
for plunder he rode with her beyond the gates and  
waited the coming of his master.
  
Jane Clayton saw the raiders lead the horses from the  
corral, and drive the herds in from the fields.
She saw her home plundered of all that represented  
intrinsic worth in the eyes of the Arabs, and then she saw  
the torch applied, and the flames lick up what remained.
  
And at last, when the raiders assembled after glutting  
their fury and their avarice, and rode away with her  
toward the north, she saw the smoke and the flames  
rising far into the heavens until the winding of the trail  
into the thick forests hid the sad view from her eyes.
  
As the flames ate their way into the living-room,  
reaching out forked tongues to lick up the bodies of  
the dead, one of that gruesome company whose bloody  
welterings had long since been stilled, moved again.
It was a huge black who rolled over upon his side and  
opened blood-shot, suffering eyes. Mugambi, whom the  
Arabs had left for dead, still lived. The hot flames  
were almost upon him as he raised himself painfully  
upon his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward the  
doorway.
  
Again and again he sank weakly to the floor; but each  
time he rose again and continued his pitiful way toward  
safety. After what seemed to him an interminable time,  
during which the flames had become a veritable fiery  
furnace at the far side of the room, the great black  
managed to reach the veranda, roll down the steps,  
and crawl off into the cool safety of some nearby  
shrubbery.
  
All night he lay there, alternately unconscious and  
painfully sentient; and in the latter state watching  
with savage hatred the lurid flames which still rose  
from burning crib and hay cock. A prowling lion roared  
close at hand; but the giant black was unafraid. There  
was place for but a single thought in his savage mind--  
revenge! revenge! revenge!
  
  
  
7  
  
The Jewel-Room of Opar  
  
  
For some time Tarzan lay where he had fallen upon the  
floor of the treasure chamber beneath the ruined walls  
of Opar. He lay as one dead; but he was not dead.
At length he stirred. His eyes opened upon the utter  
darkness of the room. He raised his hand to his head  
and brought it away sticky with clotted blood. He  
sniffed at his fingers, as a wild beast might sniff at  
the life-blood upon a wounded paw.
  
Slowly he rose to a sitting posture--listening.
No sound reached to the buried depths of his sepulcher.
He staggered to his feet, and groped his way about  
among the tiers of ingots. What was he? Where was he?
His head ached; but otherwise he felt no ill effects  
from the blow that had felled him. The accident he did not  
recall, nor did he recall aught of what had led up to it.
  
He let his hands grope unfamiliarly over his limbs,  
his torso, and his head. He felt of the quiver at his  
back, the knife in his loin cloth. Something struggled  
for recognition within his brain. Ah! he had it.
There was something missing. He crawled about upon  
the floor, feeling with his hands for the thing that  
instinct warned him was gone. At last he found it--the  
heavy war spear that in past years had formed so  
important a feature of his daily life, almost of his  
very existence, so inseparably had it been connected  
with his every action since the long-gone day that he  
had wrested his first spear from the body of a black  
victim of his savage training.
  
Tarzan was sure that there was another and more lovely  
world than that which was confined to the darkness of  
the four stone walls surrounding him. He continued his  
search and at last found the doorway leading inward  
beneath the city and the temple. This he followed,  
most incautiously. He came to the stone steps leading  
upward to the higher level. He ascended them and  
continued onward toward the well.
  
Nothing spurred his hurt memory to a recollection of  
past familiarity with his surroundings. He blundered  
on through the darkness as though he were traversing an  
open plain under the brilliance of a noonday sun, and  
suddenly there happened that which had to happen under  
the circumstances of his rash advance.
  
He reached the brink of the well, stepped outward into  
space, lunged forward, and shot downward into the inky  
depths below. Still clutching his spear, he struck the  
water, and sank beneath its surface, plumbing the  
depths.
  
The fall had not injured him, and when he rose to the  
surface, he shook the water from his eyes, and found  
that he could see. Daylight was filtering into the  
well from the orifice far above his head. It illumined  
the inner walls faintly. Tarzan gazed about him.
On the level with the surface of the water he saw a  
large opening in the dark and slimy wall. He swam to it,  
and drew himself out upon the wet floor of a tunnel.
  
Along this he passed; but now he went warily, for  
Tarzan of the Apes was learning. The unexpected pit  
had taught him care in the traversing of dark  
passageways--he needed no second lesson.
  
For a long distance the passage went straight as an  
arrow. The floor was slippery, as though at times the  
rising waters of the well overflowed and flooded it.
This, in itself, retarded Tarzan's pace, for it was  
with difficulty that he kept his footing.
  
The foot of a stairway ended the passage. Up this he  
made his way. It turned back and forth many times,  
leading, at last, into a small, circular chamber,  
the gloom of which was relieved by a faint light which  
found ingress through a tubular shaft several feet in  
diameter which rose from the center of the room's  
ceiling, upward to a distance of a hundred feet or  
more, where it terminated in a stone grating through  
which Tarzan could see a blue and sun-lit sky.
  
Curiosity prompted the ape-man to investigate his  
surroundings. Several metal-bound, copper-studded  
chests constituted the sole furniture of the round  
room. Tarzan let his hands run over these. He felt  
of the copper studs, he pulled upon the hinges, and at  
last, by chance, he raised the cover of one.
  
An exclamation of delight broke from his lips at sight  
of the pretty contents. Gleaming and glistening in the  
subdued light of the chamber, lay a great tray full of  
brilliant stones. Tarzan, reverted to the primitive by  
his accident, had no conception of the fabulous value  
of his find. To him they were but pretty pebbles.
He plunged his hands into them and let the priceless gems  
filter through his fingers. He went to others of the  
chests, only to find still further stores of precious  
stones. Nearly all were cut, and from these he  
gathered a handful and filled the pouch which dangled at  
his side--the uncut stones he tossed back into the chests.
  
Unwittingly, the ape-man had stumbled upon the  
forgotten jewel-room of Opar. For ages it had lain  
buried beneath the temple of the Flaming God, midway of  
one of the many inky passages which the superstitious  
descendants of the ancient Sun Worshipers had either  
dared not or cared not to explore.
  
Tiring at last of this diversion, Tarzan took up his way  
along the corridor which led upward from the jewel-room  
by a steep incline. Winding and twisting, but always  
tending upward, the tunnel led him nearer and  
nearer to the surface, ending finally in a low-ceiled  
room, lighter than any that he had as yet discovered.
  
Above him an opening in the ceiling at the upper end of  
a flight of concrete steps revealed a brilliant sunlit  
scene. Tarzan viewed the vine-covered columns in mild  
wonderment. He puckered his brows in an attempt to  
recall some recollection of similar things. He was not  
sure of himself. There was a tantalizing suggestion  
always present in his mind that something was eluding  
him--that he should know many things which he did not know.
  
His earnest cogitation was rudely interrupted by a  
thunderous roar from the opening above him. Following  
the roar came the cries and screams of men and women.
Tarzan grasped his spear more firmly and ascended the  
steps. A strange sight met his eyes as he emerged from  
the semi-darkness of the cellar to the brilliant light  
of the temple.
  
The creatures he saw before him he recognized for what  
they were--men and women, and a huge lion. The men and  
women were scuttling for the safety of the exits.
The lion stood upon the body of one who had been less fortunate  
than the others. He was in the center of the temple.
Directly before Tarzan, a woman stood beside a  
block of stone. Upon the top of the stone lay  
stretched a man, and as the ape-man watched the scene,  
he saw the lion glare terribly at the two who remained  
within the temple. Another thunderous roar broke from  
the savage throat, the woman screamed and swooned  
across the body of the man stretched prostrate upon the  
stone altar before her.
  
The lion advanced a few steps and crouched. The tip of  
his sinuous tail twitched nervously. He was upon the  
point of charging when his eyes were attracted toward  
the ape-man.
  
Werper, helpless upon the altar, saw the great  
carnivore preparing to leap upon him. He saw the  
sudden change in the beast's expression as his eyes  
wandered to something beyond the altar and out of the  
Belgian's view. He saw the formidable creature rise to  
a standing position. A figure darted past Werper.
He saw a mighty arm upraised, and a stout spear shoot  
forward toward the lion, to bury itself in the broad chest.
  
He saw the lion snapping and tearing at the weapon's  
shaft, and he saw, wonder of wonders, the naked giant  
who had hurled the missile charging upon the great  
beast, only a long knife ready to meet those ferocious  
fangs and talons.
  
The lion reared up to meet this new enemy. The beast  
was growling frightfully, and then upon the startled  
ears of the Belgian, broke a similar savage growl from  
the lips of the man rushing upon the beast.
  
By a quick side step, Tarzan eluded the first swinging  
clutch of the lion's paws. Darting to the beast's  
side, he leaped upon the tawny back. His arms  
encircled the maned neck, his teeth sank deep into the  
brute's flesh. Roaring, leaping, rolling and  
struggling, the giant cat attempted to dislodge this  
savage enemy, and all the while one great, brown fist  
was driving a long keen blade repeatedly into the  
beast's side.
  
During the battle, La regained consciousness.
Spellbound, she stood above her victim watching the  
spectacle. It seemed incredible that a human being  
could best the king of beasts in personal encounter and  
yet before her very eyes there was taking place just  
such an improbability.
  
At last Tarzan's knife found the great heart, and with  
a final, spasmodic struggle the lion rolled over upon  
the marble floor, dead. Leaping to his feet the  
conqueror placed a foot upon the carcass of his kill,  
raised his face toward the heavens, and gave voice to  
so hideous a cry that both La and Werper trembled as it  
reverberated through the temple.
  
Then the ape-man turned, and Werper recognized him as  
the man he had left for dead in the treasure room.
  
  
  
8  
  
The Escape from Opar  
  
  
Werper was astounded. Could this creature be the same  
dignified Englishman who had entertained him so  
graciously in his luxurious African home? Could this  
wild beast, with blazing eyes, and bloody countenance,  
be at the same time a man? Could the horrid, victory  
cry he had but just heard have been formed in human  
throat?
  
Tarzan was eyeing the man and the woman, a puzzled  
expression in his eyes, but there was no faintest tinge  
of recognition. It was as though he had discovered  
some new species of living creature and was marveling  
at his find.
  
La was studying the ape-man's features. Slowly her  
large eyes opened very wide.
  
"Tarzan!" she exclaimed, and then, in the vernacular of  
the great apes which constant association with the  
anthropoids had rendered the common language of the  
Oparians: "You have come back to me! La has ignored the  
mandates of her religion, waiting, always waiting for  
Tarzan--for her Tarzan. She has taken no mate, for in  
all the world there was but one with whom La would  
mate. And now you have come back! Tell me, O Tarzan,  
that it is for me you have returned."  
  
Werper listened to the unintelligible jargon.
He looked from La to Tarzan. Would the latter understand  
this strange tongue? To the Belgian's surprise, the  
Englishman answered in a language evidently identical  
to hers.
  
"Tarzan," he repeated, musingly. "Tarzan. The name  
sounds familiar."  
  
"It is your name--you are Tarzan," cried La.
  
"I am Tarzan?" The ape-man shrugged. "Well, it is a  
good name--I know no other, so I will keep it; but I do  
not know you. I did not come hither for you. Why I  
came, I do not know at all; neither do I know from  
whence I came. Can you tell me?"  
  
La shook her head. "I never knew," she replied.
  
Tarzan turned toward Werper and put the same question  
to him; but in the language of the great apes.
The Belgian shook his head.
  
"I do not understand that language," he said in French.
  
Without effort, and apparently without realizing that  
he made the change, Tarzan repeated his question in  
French. Werper suddenly came to a full realization of  
the magnitude of the injury of which Tarzan was a  
victim. The man had lost his memory--no longer could  
he recollect past events. The Belgian was upon the  
point of enlightening him, when it suddenly occurred to  
him that by keeping Tarzan in ignorance, for a time at  
least, of his true identity, it might be possible to  
turn the ape-man's misfortune to his own advantage.
  
"I cannot tell you from whence you came," he said;  
"but this I can tell you--if we do not get out of this  
horrible place we shall both be slain upon this bloody  
altar. The woman was about to plunge her knife into my  
heart when the lion interrupted the fiendish ritual. Come!
Before they recover from their fright and reassemble,  
let us find a way out of their damnable temple."  
  
Tarzan turned again toward La.
  
"Why," he asked, "would you have killed this man?
Are you hungry?"  
  
The High Priestess cried out in disgust.
  
"Did he attempt to kill you?" continued Tarzan.
  
The woman shook her head.
  
"Then why should you have wished to kill him?" Tarzan  
was determined to get to the bottom of the thing.
  
La raised her slender arm and pointed toward the sun.
  
"We were offering up his soul as a gift to the Flaming  
God," she said.
  
Tarzan looked puzzled. He was again an ape, and apes  
do not understand such matters as souls and Flaming  
Gods.
  
"Do you wish to die?" he asked Werper.
  
The Belgian assured him, with tears in his eyes, that  
he did not wish to die.
  
"Very well then, you shall not," said Tarzan. "Come!
We will go. This SHE would kill you and keep me  
for herself. It is no place anyway for a Mangani.
I should soon die, shut up behind these stone walls."  
  
He turned toward La. "We are going now," he said.
  
The woman rushed forward and seized the ape-man's hands  
in hers.
  
"Do not leave me!" she cried. "Stay, and you shall be  
High Priest. La loves you. All Opar shall be yours.
Slaves shall wait upon you. Stay, Tarzan of the Apes,  
and let love reward you."  
  
The ape-man pushed the kneeling woman aside. "Tarzan  
does not desire you," he said, simply, and stepping to  
Werper's side he cut the Belgian's bonds and motioned  
him to follow.
  
Panting--her face convulsed with rage, La sprang to her  
feet.
  
"Stay, you shall!" she screamed. "La will have you--if  
she cannot have you alive, she will have you dead," and  
raising her face to the sun she gave voice to the same  
hideous shriek that Werper had heard once before and  
Tarzan many times.
  
In answer to her cry a babel of voices broke from the  
surrounding chambers and corridors.
  
"Come, Guardian Priests!" she cried. "The infidels  
have profaned the holiest of the holies. Come! Strike  
terror to their hearts; defend La and her altar; wash  
clean the temple with the blood of the polluters."  
  
Tarzan understood, though Werper did not. The former  
glanced at the Belgian and saw that he was unarmed.
Stepping quickly to La's side the ape-man seized her in  
his strong arms and though she fought with all the mad  
savagery of a demon, he soon disarmed her, handing her  
long, sacrificial knife to Werper.
  
"You will need this," he said, and then from each  
doorway a horde of the monstrous, little men of Opar  
streamed into the temple.
  
They were armed with bludgeons and knives, and  
fortified in their courage by fanatical hate and  
frenzy. Werper was terrified. Tarzan stood eyeing the  
foe in proud disdain. Slowly he advanced toward the  
exit he had chosen to utilize in making his way from  
the temple. A burly priest barred his way. Behind the  
first was a score of others. Tarzan swung his heavy  
spear, clublike, down upon the skull of the priest.
The fellow collapsed, his head crushed.
  
Again and again the weapon fell as Tarzan made his way  
slowly toward the doorway. Werper pressed close  
behind, casting backward glances toward the shrieking,  
dancing mob menacing their rear. He held the  
sacrificial knife ready to strike whoever might come  
within its reach; but none came. For a time he  
wondered that they should so bravely battle with the  
giant ape-man, yet hesitate to rush upon him, who was  
relatively so weak. Had they done so he knew that he  
must have fallen at the first charge. Tarzan had  
reached the doorway over the corpses of all that had  
stood to dispute his way, before Werper guessed at the  
reason for his immunity. The priests feared the  
sacrificial knife! Willingly would they face death and  
welcome it if it came while they defended their High  
Priestess and her altar; but evidently there were  
deaths, and deaths. Some strange superstition must  
surround that polished blade, that no Oparian cared to  
chance a death thrust from it, yet gladly rushed to the  
slaughter of the ape-man's flaying spear.
  
Once outside the temple court, Werper communicated his  
discovery to Tarzan. The ape-man grinned, and let  
Werper go before him, brandishing the jeweled and holy  
weapon. Like leaves before a gale, the Oparians  
scattered in all directions and Tarzan and the Belgian  
found a clear passage through the corridors and  
chambers of the ancient temple.
  
The Belgian's eyes went wide as they passed through the  
room of the seven pillars of solid gold. With ill-concealed  
avarice he looked upon the age-old, golden tablets  
set in the walls of nearly every room and down  
the sides of many of the corridors. To the ape-man all  
this wealth appeared to mean nothing.
  
On the two went, chance leading them toward the broad  
avenue which lay between the stately piles of the  
half-ruined edifices and the inner wall of the city.
Great apes jabbered at them and menaced them; but Tarzan  
answered them after their own kind, giving back taunt  
for taunt, insult for insult, challenge for challenge.
  
Werper saw a hairy bull swing down from a broken column  
and advance, stiff-legged and bristling, toward the  
naked giant. The yellow fangs were bared, angry snarls  
and barkings rumbled threateningly through the thick  
and hanging lips.
  
The Belgian watched his companion. To his horror, he  
saw the man stoop until his closed knuckles rested upon  
the ground as did those of the anthropoid. He saw him  
circle, stiff-legged about the circling ape. He heard  
the same bestial barkings and growlings issue from the  
human throat that were coming from the mouth of the  
brute. Had his eyes been closed he could not have  
known but that two giant apes were bridling for combat.
  
But there was no battle. It ended as the majority of  
such jungle encounters end--one of the boasters loses  
his nerve, and becomes suddenly interested in a blowing  
leaf, a beetle, or the lice upon his hairy stomach.
  
In this instance it was the anthropoid that retired in  
stiff dignity to inspect an unhappy caterpillar, which  
he presently devoured. For a moment Tarzan seemed  
inclined to pursue the argument. He swaggered  
truculently, stuck out his chest, roared and advanced  
closer to the bull. It was with difficulty that Werper  
finally persuaded him to leave well enough alone and  
continue his way from the ancient city of the Sun  
Worshipers.
  
The two searched for nearly an hour before they found  
the narrow exit through the inner wall. From there the  
well-worn trail led them beyond the outer fortification  
to the desolate valley of Opar.
  
Tarzan had no idea, in so far as Werper could discover,  
as to where he was or whence he came. He wandered  
aimlessly about, searching for food, which he  
discovered beneath small rocks, or hiding in the shade  
of the scant brush which dotted the ground.
  
The Belgian was horrified by the hideous menu of his  
companion. Beetles, rodents and caterpillars were  
devoured with seeming relish. Tarzan was indeed an ape  
again.
  
At last Werper succeeded in leading his companion  
toward the distant hills which mark the northwestern  
boundary of the valley, and together the two set out in  
the direction of the Greystoke bungalow.
  
What purpose prompted the Belgian in leading the victim  
of his treachery and greed back toward his former home  
it is difficult to guess, unless it was that without  
Tarzan there could be no ransom for Tarzan's wife.
  
That night they camped in the valley beyond the hills,  
and as they sat before a little fire where cooked a  
wild pig that had fallen to one of Tarzan's arrows, the  
latter sat lost in speculation. He seemed continually  
to be trying to grasp some mental image which as  
constantly eluded him.
  
At last he opened the leathern pouch which hung at his  
side. From it he poured into the palm of his hand a  
quantity of glittering gems. The firelight playing  
upon them conjured a multitude of scintillating rays,  
and as the wide eyes of the Belgian looked on in rapt  
fascination, the man's expression at last acknowledged  
a tangible purpose in courting the society of the ape-man.
  
  
  
9  
  
The Theft of the Jewels  
  
  
For two days Werper sought for the party that had  
accompanied him from the camp to the barrier cliffs;  
but not until late in the afternoon of the second day  
did he find clew to its whereabouts, and then in such  
gruesome form that he was totally unnerved by the  
sight.
  
In an open glade he came upon the bodies of three of  
the blacks, terribly mutilated, nor did it require  
considerable deductive power to explain their murder.
Of the little party only these three had not been  
slaves. The others, evidently tempted to hope for  
freedom from their cruel Arab master, had taken  
advantage of their separation from the main camp, to  
slay the three representatives of the hated power which  
held them in slavery, and vanish into the jungle.
  
Cold sweat exuded from Werper's forehead as he  
contemplated the fate which chance had permitted him to  
escape, for had he been present when the conspiracy  
bore fruit, he, too, must have been of the garnered.
  
Tarzan showed not the slightest surprise or interest in  
the discovery. Inherent in him was a calloused  
familiarity with violent death. The refinements of his  
recent civilization expunged by the force of the sad  
calamity which had befallen him, left only the  
primitive sensibilities which his childhood's training  
had imprinted indelibly upon the fabric of his mind.
  
The training of Kala, the examples and precepts of  
Kerchak, of Tublat, and of Terkoz now formed the basis  
of his every thought and action. He retained a  
mechanical knowledge of French and English speech.
Werper had spoken to him in French, and Tarzan had  
replied in the same tongue without conscious  
realization that he had departed from the anthropoidal  
speech in which he had addressed La. Had Werper used  
English, the result would have been the same.
  
Again, that night, as the two sat before their camp  
fire, Tarzan played with his shining baubles. Werper  
asked him what they were and where he had found them.
The ape-man replied that they were gay-colored stones,  
with which he purposed fashioning a necklace, and that  
he had found them far beneath the sacrificial court of  
the temple of the Flaming God.
  
Werper was relieved to find that Tarzan had no  
conception of the value of the gems. This would make  
it easier for the Belgian to obtain possession of them.
Possibly the man would give them to him for the asking.
Werper reached out his hand toward the little pile that  
Tarzan had arranged upon a piece of flat wood before  
him.
  
"Let me see them," said the Belgian.
  
Tarzan placed a large palm over his treasure. He bared  
his fighting fangs, and growled. Werper withdrew his  
hand more quickly than he had advanced it. Tarzan  
resumed his playing with the gems, and his conversation  
with Werper as though nothing unusual had occurred.
He had but exhibited the beast's jealous protective  
instinct for a possession. When he killed he shared  
the meat with Werper; but had Werper ever, by accident,  
laid a hand upon Tarzan's share, he would have aroused  
the same savage, and resentful warning.
  
From that occurrence dated the beginning of a great  
fear in the breast of the Belgian for his savage  
companion. He had never understood the transformation  
that had been wrought in Tarzan by the blow upon his  
head, other than to attribute it to a form of amnesia.
That Tarzan had once been, in truth, a savage, jungle  
beast, Werper had not known, and so, of course, he  
could not guess that the man had reverted to the state  
in which his childhood and young manhood had been  
spent.
  
Now Werper saw in the Englishman a dangerous maniac,  
whom the slightest untoward accident might turn upon  
him with rending fangs. Not for a moment did Werper  
attempt to delude himself into the belief that he could  
defend himself successfully against an attack by the  
ape-man. His one hope lay in eluding him, and making  
for the far distant camp of Achmet Zek as rapidly as he  
could; but armed only with the sacrificial knife,  
Werper shrank from attempting the journey through the  
jungle. Tarzan constituted a protection that was by no  
means despicable, even in the face of the larger  
carnivora, as Werper had reason to acknowledge from the  
evidence he had witnessed in the Oparian temple.
  
Too, Werper had his covetous soul set upon the pouch of  
gems, and so he was torn between the various emotions  
of avarice and fear. But avarice it was that burned  
most strongly in his breast, to the end that he dared  
the dangers and suffered the terrors of constant  
association with him he thought a mad man, rather than  
give up the hope of obtaining possession of the fortune  
which the contents of the little pouch represented.
  
Achmet Zek should know nothing of these--these would be  
for Werper alone, and so soon as he could encompass his  
design he would reach the coast and take passage for  
America, where he could conceal himself beneath the  
veil of a new identity and enjoy to some measure the  
fruits of his theft. He had it all planned out, did  
Lieutenant Albert Werper, living in anticipation the  
luxurious life of the idle rich. He even found himself  
regretting that America was so provincial, and that  
nowhere in the new world was a city that might compare  
with his beloved Brussels.
  
It was upon the third day of their progress from Opar  
that the keen ears of Tarzan caught the sound of men  
behind them. Werper heard nothing above the humming of  
the jungle insects, and the chattering life of the  
lesser monkeys and the birds.
  
For a time Tarzan stood in statuesque silence,  
listening, his sensitive nostrils dilating as he  
assayed each passing breeze. Then he withdrew Werper  
into the concealment of thick brush, and waited.
Presently, along the game trail that Werper and Tarzan  
had been following, there came in sight a sleek,  
black warrior, alert and watchful.
  
In single file behind him, there followed, one after  
another, near fifty others, each burdened with two  
dull-yellow ingots lashed upon his back. Werper  
recognized the party immediately as that which had  
accompanied Tarzan on his journey to Opar. He glanced  
at the ape-man; but in the savage, watchful eyes he saw  
no recognition of Basuli and those other loyal Waziri.
  
When all had passed, Tarzan rose and emerged from  
concealment. He looked down the trail in the direction  
the party had gone. Then he turned to Werper.
  
"We will follow and slay them," he said.
  
"Why?" asked the Belgian.
  
"They are black," explained Tarzan. "It was a black  
who killed Kala. They are the enemies of the  
Manganis."  
  
Werper did not relish the idea of engaging in a battle  
with Basuli and his fierce fighting men. And, again,  
he had welcomed the sight of them returning toward the  
Greystoke bungalow, for he had begun to have doubts as  
to his ability to retrace his steps to the Waziri  
country. Tarzan, he knew, had not the remotest idea of  
whither they were going. By keeping at a safe distance  
behind the laden warriors, they would have no  
difficulty in following them home. Once at the  
bungalow, Werper knew the way to the camp of Achmet  
Zek. There was still another reason why he did not  
wish to interfere with the Waziri--they were bearing  
the great burden of treasure in the direction he wished  
it borne. The farther they took it, the less the  
distance that he and Achmet Zek would have to transport it.
  
He argued with the ape-man therefore, against the  
latter's desire to exterminate the blacks, and at last  
he prevailed upon Tarzan to follow them in peace,  
saying that he was sure they would lead them out of the  
forest into a rich country, teeming with game.
  
It was many marches from Opar to the Waziri country;  
but at last came the hour when Tarzan and the Belgian,  
following the trail of the warriors, topped the last  
rise, and saw before them the broad Waziri plain, the  
winding river, and the distant forests to the north and  
west.
  
A mile or more ahead of them, the line of warriors was  
creeping like a giant caterpillar through the tall  
grasses of the plain. Beyond, grazing herds of zebra,  
hartebeest, and topi dotted the level landscape, while  
closer to the river a bull buffalo, his head and  
shoulders protruding from the reeds watched the  
advancing blacks for a moment, only to turn at last and  
disappear into the safety of his dank and gloomy  
retreat.
  
Tarzan looked out across the familiar vista with no  
faintest gleam of recognition in his eyes. He saw the  
game animals, and his mouth watered; but he did not  
look in the direction of his bungalow. Werper,  
however, did. A puzzled expression entered the  
Belgian's eyes. He shaded them with his palms and  
gazed long and earnestly toward the spot where the  
bungalow had stood. He could not credit the testimony  
of his eyes--there was no bungalow--no barns--no  
out- houses. The corrals, the hay stacks--all were gone.
What could it mean?
  
And then, slowly there filtered into Werper's  
consciousness an explanation of the havoc that had been  
wrought in that peaceful valley since last his eyes had  
rested upon it--Achmet Zek had been there!
  
Basuli and his warriors had noted the devastation the  
moment they had come in sight of the farm. Now they  
hastened on toward it talking excitedly among  
themselves in animated speculation upon the cause and  
meaning of the catastrophe.
  
When, at last they crossed the trampled garden and  
stood before the charred ruins of their master's  
bungalow, their greatest fears became convictions in  
the light of the evidence about them.
  
Remnants of human dead, half devoured by prowling  
hyenas and others of the carnivora which infested the  
region, lay rotting upon the ground, and among the  
corpses remained sufficient remnants of their clothing  
and ornaments to make clear to Basuli the frightful  
story of the disaster that had befallen his master's  
house.
  
"The Arabs," he said, as his men clustered about him.
  
The Waziri gazed about in mute rage for several  
minutes. Everywhere they encountered only further  
evidence of the ruthlessness of the cruel enemy that  
had come during the Great Bwana's absence and laid  
waste his property.
  
"What did they with 'Lady'?" asked one of the blacks.
  
They had always called Lady Greystoke thus.
  
"The women they would have taken with them," said  
Basuli. "Our women and his."  
  
A giant black raised his spear above his head, and gave  
voice to a savage cry of rage and hate. The others  
followed his example. Basuli silenced them with a gesture.
  
"This is no time for useless noises of the mouth," he  
said. "The Great Bwana has taught us that it is acts  
by which things are done, not words. Let us save our  
breath--we shall need it all to follow up the Arabs and  
slay them. If 'Lady' and our women live the greater  
the need of haste, and warriors cannot travel fast upon  
empty lungs."  
  
From the shelter of the reeds along the river, Werper  
and Tarzan watched the blacks. They saw them dig a  
trench with their knives and fingers. They saw them  
lay their yellow burdens in it and scoop the overturned  
earth back over the tops of the ingots.
  
Tarzan seemed little interested, after Werper had  
assured him that that which they buried was not good to  
eat; but Werper was intensely interested. He would  
have given much had he had his own followers with him,  
that he might take away the treasure as soon as the  
blacks left, for he was sure that they would leave this  
scene of desolation and death as soon as possible.
  
The treasure buried, the blacks removed themselves a  
short distance up wind from the fetid corpses, where  
they made camp, that they might rest before setting out  
in pursuit of the Arabs. It was already dusk. Werper  
and Tarzan sat devouring some pieces of meat they had  
brought from their last camp. The Belgian was occupied  
with his plans for the immediate future. He was  
positive that the Waziri would pursue Achmet Zek,  
for he knew enough of savage warfare, and of the  
characteristics of the Arabs and their degraded  
followers to guess that they had carried the Waziri  
women off into slavery. This alone would assure  
immediate pursuit by so warlike a people as the Waziri.
  
Werper felt that he should find the means and the  
opportunity to push on ahead, that he might warn Achmet  
Zek of the coming of Basuli, and also of the location  
of the buried treasure. What the Arab would now do  
with Lady Greystoke, in view of the mental affliction  
of her husband, Werper neither knew nor cared. It was  
enough that the golden treasure buried upon the site of  
the burned bungalow was infinitely more valuable than  
any ransom that would have occurred even to the  
avaricious mind of the Arab, and if Werper could  
persuade the raider to share even a portion of it with  
him he would be well satisfied.
  
But by far the most important consideration, to Werper,  
at least, was the incalculably valuable treasure in the  
little leathern pouch at Tarzan's side. If he could  
but obtain possession of this! He must! He would!
  
His eyes wandered to the object of his greed.
They measured Tarzan's giant frame, and rested upon  
the rounded muscles of his arms. It was hopeless.
What could he, Werper, hope to accomplish, other than his  
own death, by an attempt to wrest the gems from their  
savage owner?
  
Disconsolate, Werper threw himself upon his side.
His head was pillowed on one arm, the other rested across  
his face in such a way that his eyes were hidden from  
the ape-man, though one of them was fastened upon him  
from beneath the shadow of the Belgian's forearm.
For a time he lay thus, glowering at Tarzan, and  
originating schemes for plundering him of his treasure--  
schemes that were discarded as futile as rapidly as  
they were born.
  
Tarzan presently let his own eyes rest upon Werper.
The Belgian saw that he was being watched, and lay very  
still. After a few moments he simulated the regular  
breathing of deep slumber.
  
Tarzan had been thinking. He had seen the Waziri bury  
their belongings. Werper had told him that they were  
hiding them lest some one find them and take them away.
This seemed to Tarzan a splendid plan for safeguarding  
valuables. Since Werper had evinced a desire to  
possess his glittering pebbles, Tarzan, with the  
suspicions of a savage, had guarded the baubles, of  
whose worth he was entirely ignorant, as zealously as  
though they spelled life or death to him.
  
For a long time the ape-man sat watching his companion.
At last, convinced that he slept, Tarzan withdrew his  
hunting knife and commenced to dig a hole in the ground  
before him. With the blade he loosened up the earth,  
and with his hands he scooped it out until he had  
excavated a little cavity a few inches in diameter, and  
five or six inches in depth. Into this he placed the  
pouch of jewels. Werper almost forgot to breathe after  
the fashion of a sleeper as he saw what the ape-man was  
doing--he scarce repressed an ejaculation of  
satisfaction.
  
Tarzan become suddenly rigid as his keen ears noted the  
cessation of the regular inspirations and expirations  
of his companion. His narrowed eyes bored straight  
down upon the Belgian. Werper felt that he was lost--  
he must risk all on his ability to carry on the  
deception. He sighed, threw both arms outward, and  
turned over on his back mumbling as though in the  
throes of a bad dream. A moment later he resumed the  
regular breathing.
  
Now he could not watch Tarzan, but he was sure that the  
man sat for a long time looking at him. Then, faintly,  
Werper heard the other's hands scraping dirt, and later  
patting it down. He knew then that the jewels were  
buried.
  
It was an hour before Werper moved again, then he  
rolled over facing Tarzan and opened his eyes. The  
ape-man slept. By reaching out his hand Werper could  
touch the spot where the pouch was buried.
  
For a long time he lay watching and listening.
He moved about, making more noise than necessary,  
yet Tarzan did not awaken. He drew the sacrificial knife  
from his belt, and plunged it into the ground.
Tarzan did not move. Cautiously the Belgian pushed the  
blade downward through the loose earth above the pouch.
He felt the point touch the soft, tough fabric of the  
leather. Then he pried down upon the handle.
Slowly the little mound of loose earth rose and parted.
An instant later a corner of the pouch came into view.
Werper pulled it from its hiding place, and tucked it  
in his shirt. Then he refilled the hole and pressed  
the dirt carefully down as it had been before.
  
Greed had prompted him to an act, the discovery of  
which by his companion could lead only to the most  
frightful consequences for Werper. Already he could  
almost feel those strong, white fangs burying  
themselves in his neck. He shuddered. Far out across  
the plain a leopard screamed, and in the dense reeds  
behind him some great beast moved on padded feet.
  
Werper feared these prowlers of the night; but  
infinitely more he feared the just wrath of the human  
beast sleeping at his side. With utmost caution the  
Belgian arose. Tarzan did not move. Werper took a few  
steps toward the plain and the distant forest to the  
northwest, then he paused and fingered the hilt of the  
long knife in his belt. He turned and looked down upon  
the sleeper.
  
"Why not?" he mused. "Then I should be safe."  
  
He returned and bent above the ape-man. Clutched  
tightly in his hand was the sacrificial knife of the  
High Priestess of the Flaming God!
  
  
  
10  
  
Achmet Zek Sees the Jewels  
  
  
Mugambi, weak and suffering, had dragged his painful  
way along the trail of the retreating raiders.
He could move but slowly, resting often; but savage hatred  
and an equally savage desire for vengeance kept him to  
his task. As the days passed his wounds healed and his  
strength returned, until at last his giant frame had  
regained all of its former mighty powers. Now he went  
more rapidly; but the mounted Arabs had covered a great  
distance while the wounded black had been painfully  
crawling after them.
  
They had reached their fortified camp, and there Achmet  
Zek awaited the return of his lieutenant, Albert  
Werper. During the long, rough journey, Jane Clayton  
had suffered more in anticipation of her impending fate  
than from the hardships of the road.
  
Achmet Zek had not deigned to acquaint her with his  
intentions regarding her future. She prayed that she  
had been captured in the hope of ransom, for if such  
should prove the case, no great harm would befall her  
at the hands of the Arabs; but there was the chance,  
the horrid chance, that another fate awaited her.
She had heard of many women, among whom were white women,  
who had been sold by outlaws such as Achmet Zek into  
the slavery of black harems, or taken farther north  
into the almost equally hideous existence of some  
Turkish seraglio.
  
Jane Clayton was of sterner stuff than that which bends  
in spineless terror before danger. Until hope proved  
futile she would not give it up; nor did she entertain  
thoughts of self-destruction only as a final escape  
from dishonor. So long as Tarzan lived there was every  
reason to expect succor. No man nor beast who roamed  
the savage continent could boast the cunning and the  
powers of her lord and master. To her, he was little  
short of omnipotent in his native world--this world of  
savage beasts and savage men. Tarzan would come, and  
she would be rescued and avenged, of that she was  
certain. She counted the days that must elapse before  
he would return from Opar and discover what had  
transpired during his absence. After that it would be  
but a short time before he had surrounded the Arab  
stronghold and punished the motley crew of wrongdoers  
who inhabited it.
  
That he could find her she had no slightest doubt.
No spoor, however faint, could elude the keen vigilance  
of his senses. To him, the trail of the raiders would be  
as plain as the printed page of an open book to her.
  
And while she hoped, there came through the dark jungle  
another. Terrified by night and by day, came Albert  
Werper. A dozen times he had escaped the claws and  
fangs of the giant carnivora only by what seemed a  
miracle to him. Armed with nothing more than the knife  
he had brought with him from Opar, he had made his way  
through as savage a country as yet exists upon the face  
of the globe.
  
By night he had slept in trees. By day he had stumbled  
fearfully on, often taking refuge among the branches  
when sight or sound of some great cat warned him from  
danger. But at last he had come within sight of the  
palisade behind which were his fierce companions.
  
At almost the same time Mugambi came out of the jungle  
before the walled village. As he stood in the shadow  
of a great tree, reconnoitering, he saw a man, ragged  
and disheveled, emerge from the jungle almost at his  
elbow. Instantly he recognized the newcomer as he who  
had been a guest of his master before the latter had  
departed for Opar.
  
The black was upon the point of hailing the Belgian  
when something stayed him. He saw the white man  
walking confidently across the clearing toward the  
village gate. No sane man thus approached a village in  
this part of Africa unless he was sure of a friendly  
welcome. Mugambi waited. His suspicions were aroused.
  
He heard Werper halloo; he saw the gates swing open,  
and he witnessed the surprised and friendly welcome  
that was accorded the erstwhile guest of Lord and Lady  
Greystoke. A light broke upon the understanding of  
Mugambi. This white man had been a traitor and a spy.
It was to him they owed the raid during the absence of  
the Great Bwana. To his hate for the Arabs, Mugambi  
added a still greater hate for the white spy.
  
Within the village Werper passed hurriedly toward the  
silken tent of Achmet Zek. The Arab arose as his  
lieutenant entered. His face showed surprise as he  
viewed the tattered apparel of the Belgian.
  
"What has happened?" he asked.
  
Werper narrated all, save the little matter of the  
pouch of gems which were now tightly strapped about his  
waist, beneath his clothing. The Arab's eyes narrowed  
greedily as his henchman described the treasure that  
the Waziri had buried beside the ruins of the Greystoke  
bungalow.
  
"It will be a simple matter now to return and get it,"  
said Achmet Zek. "First we will await the coming of  
the rash Waziri, and after we have slain them we may  
take our time to the treasure--none will disturb it  
where it lies, for we shall leave none alive who knows  
of its existence.
  
"And the woman?" asked Werper.
  
"I shall sell her in the north," replied the raider.
"It is the only way, now. She should bring a good  
price."  
  
The Belgian nodded. He was thinking rapidly. If he  
could persuade Achmet Zek to send him in command of the  
party which took Lady Greystoke north it would give him  
the opportunity he craved to make his escape from his  
chief. He would forego a share of the gold, if he  
could but get away unscathed with the jewels.
  
He knew Achmet Zek well enough by this time to know  
that no member of his band ever was voluntarily  
released from the service of Achmet Zek. Most of the  
few who deserted were recaptured. More than once had  
Werper listened to their agonized screams as they were  
tortured before being put to death. The Belgian had no  
wish to take the slightest chance of recapture.
  
"Who will go north with the woman," he asked, "while we  
are returning for the gold that the Waziri buried by  
the bungalow of the Englishman?"  
  
Achmet Zek thought for a moment. The buried gold was  
of much greater value than the price the woman would  
bring. It was necessary to rid himself of her as  
quickly as possible and it was also well to obtain the  
gold with the least possible delay. Of all his  
followers, the Belgian was the most logical lieutenant  
to intrust with the command of one of the parties. An  
Arab, as familiar with the trails and tribes as Achmet  
Zek himself, might collect the woman's price and make  
good his escape into the far north. Werper, on the  
other hand, could scarce make his escape alone through  
a country hostile to Europeans while the men he would  
send with the Belgian could be carefully selected with  
a view to preventing Werper from persuading any  
considerable portion of his command to accompany him  
should he contemplate desertion of his chief.
  
At last the Arab spoke: "It is not necessary that we  
both return for the gold. You shall go north with the  
woman, carrying a letter to a friend of mine who is  
always in touch with the best markets for such  
merchandise, while I return for the gold. We can meet  
again here when our business is concluded."  
  
Werper could scarce disguise the joy with which he  
received this welcome decision. And that he did  
entirely disguise it from the keen and suspicious eyes  
of Achmet Zek is open to question. However, the  
decision reached, the Arab and his lieutenant discussed  
the details of their forthcoming ventures for a short  
time further, when Werper made his excuses and returned  
to his own tent for the comforts and luxury of a  
long-desired bath and shave.
  
Having bathed, the Belgian tied a small hand mirror to  
a cord sewn to the rear wall of his tent, placed a rude  
chair beside an equally rude table that stood beside  
the glass, and proceeded to remove the rough stubble  
from his face.
  
In the catalog of masculine pleasures there is scarce  
one which imparts a feeling of greater comfort and  
refreshment than follows a clean shave, and now, with  
weariness temporarily banished, Albert Werper sprawled  
in his rickety chair to enjoy a final cigaret before  
retiring. His thumbs, tucked in his belt in lazy  
support of the weight of his arms, touched the belt  
which held the jewel pouch about his waist. He tingled  
with excitement as he let his mind dwell upon the value  
of the treasure, which, unknown to all save himself,  
lay hidden beneath his clothing.
  
What would Achmet Zek say, if he knew? Werper grinned.
How the old rascal's eyes would pop could he but have a  
glimpse of those scintillating beauties! Werper had  
never yet had an opportunity to feast his eyes for any  
great length of time upon them. He had not even  
counted them--only roughly had he guessed at their  
value.
  
He unfastened the belt and drew the pouch from its  
hiding place. He was alone. The balance of the camp,  
save the sentries, had retired--none would enter the  
Belgian's tent. He fingered the pouch, feeling out the  
shapes and sizes of the precious, little nodules  
within. He hefted the bag, first in one palm, then in  
the other, and at last he wheeled his chair slowly  
around before the table, and in the rays of his small  
lamp let the glittering gems roll out upon the rough  
wood.
  
The refulgent rays transformed the interior of the  
soiled and squalid canvas to the splendor of a palace  
in the eyes of the dreaming man. He saw the gilded  
halls of pleasure that would open their portals to the  
possessor of the wealth which lay scattered upon this  
stained and dented table top. He dreamed of joys and  
luxuries and power which always had been beyond his  
grasp, and as he dreamed his gaze lifted from the  
table, as the gaze of a dreamer will, to a far distant  
goal above the mean horizon of terrestrial  
commonplaceness.
  
Unseeing, his eyes rested upon the shaving mirror which  
still hung upon the tent wall above the table; but his  
sight was focused far beyond. And then a reflection  
moved within the polished surface of the tiny glass,  
the man's eyes shot back out of space to the mirror's  
face, and in it he saw reflected the grim visage of  
Achmet Zek, framed in the flaps of the tent doorway  
behind him.
  
Werper stifled a gasp of dismay. With rare  
self-possession he let his gaze drop, without appearing  
to have halted upon the mirror until it rested again upon  
the gems. Without haste, he replaced them in the  
pouch, tucked the latter into his shirt, selected a  
cigaret from his case, lighted it and rose. Yawning,  
and stretching his arms above his head, he turned  
slowly toward the opposite end of the tent. The face  
of Achmet Zek had disappeared from the opening.
  
To say that Albert Werper was terrified would be  
putting it mildly. He realized that he not only had  
sacrificed his treasure; but his life as well.
Achmet Zek would never permit the wealth that he had  
discovered to slip through his fingers, nor would he  
forgive the duplicity of a lieutenant who had gained  
possession of such a treasure without offering to share  
it with his chief.
  
Slowly the Belgian prepared for bed. If he were being  
watched, he could not know; but if so the watcher saw  
no indication of the nervous excitement which the  
European strove to conceal. When ready for his  
blankets, the man crossed to the little table and  
extinguished the light.
  
It was two hours later that the flaps at the front of  
the tent separated silently and gave entrance to a  
dark-robed figure, which passed noiselessly from the  
darkness without to the darkness within. Cautiously  
the prowler crossed the interior. In one hand was a  
long knife. He came at last to the pile of blankets  
spread upon several rugs close to one of the tent  
walls.
  
Lightly, his fingers sought and found the bulk beneath  
the blankets--the bulk that should be Albert Werper.
They traced out the figure of a man, and then an arm  
shot upward, poised for an instant and descended.
Again and again it rose and fell, and each time the  
long blade of the knife buried itself in the thing  
beneath the blankets. But there was an initial  
lifelessness in the silent bulk that gave the assassin  
momentary wonder. Feverishly he threw back the  
coverlets, and searched with nervous hands for the  
pouch of jewels which he expected to find concealed  
upon his victim's body.
  
An instant later he rose with a curse upon his lips.
It was Achmet Zek, and he cursed because he had  
discovered beneath the blankets of his lieutenant only  
a pile of discarded clothing arranged in the form and  
semblance of a sleeping man--Albert Werper had fled.
  
Out into the village ran the chief, calling in angry  
tones to the sleepy Arabs, who tumbled from their tents  
in answer to his voice. But though they searched the  
village again and again they found no trace of the  
Belgian. Foaming with anger, Achmet Zek called his  
followers to horse, and though the night was pitchy  
black they set out to scour the adjoining forest for  
their quarry.
  
As they galloped from the open gates, Mugambi, hiding  
in a nearby bush, slipped, unseen, within the palisade.
A score of blacks crowded about the entrance to watch  
the searchers depart, and as the last of them passed  
out of the village the blacks seized the portals and  
drew them to, and Mugambi lent a hand in the work as  
though the best of his life had been spent among the  
raiders.
  
In the darkness he passed, unchallenged, as one of  
their number, and as they returned from the gates to  
their respective tents and huts, Mugambi melted into  
the shadows and disappeared.
  
For an hour he crept about in the rear of the various  
huts and tents in an effort to locate that in which his  
master's mate was imprisoned. One there was which he  
was reasonably assured contained her, for it was the  
only hut before the door of which a sentry had been  
posted. Mugambi was crouching in the shadow of this  
structure, just around the corner from the unsuspecting  
guard, when another approached to relieve his comrade.
  
"The prisoner is safe within?" asked the newcomer.
  
"She is," replied the other, "for none has passed this  
doorway since I came."  
  
The new sentry squatted beside the door, while he whom  
he had relieved made his way to his own hut. Mugambi  
slunk closer to the corner of the building. In one  
powerful hand he gripped a heavy knob-stick. No sign  
of elation disturbed his phlegmatic calm, yet inwardly  
he was aroused to joy by the proof he had just heard  
that "Lady" really was within.
  
The sentry's back was toward the corner of the hut  
which hid the giant black. The fellow did not see the  
huge form which silently loomed behind him. The  
knob-stick swung upward in a curve, and downward again.
There was the sound of a dull thud, the crushing of  
heavy bone, and the sentry slumped into a silent,  
inanimate lump of clay.
  
A moment later Mugambi was searching the interior of  
the hut. At first slowly, calling, "Lady!" in a low  
whisper, and finally with almost frantic haste, until  
the truth presently dawned upon him--the hut was empty!
  
  
  
11  
  
Tarzan Becomes a Beast Again  
  
  
For a moment Werper had stood above the sleeping ape-man,  
his murderous knife poised for the fatal thrust;  
but fear stayed his hand. What if the first blow  
should fail to drive the point to his victim's heart?
Werper shuddered in contemplation of the disastrous  
consequences to himself. Awakened, and even with a few  
moments of life remaining, the giant could literally  
tear his assailant to pieces should he choose, and the  
Belgian had no doubt but that Tarzan would so choose.
  
Again came the soft sound of padded footsteps in the  
reeds--closer this time. Werper abandoned his design.
Before him stretched the wide plain and escape.
The jewels were in his possession. To remain longer was to  
risk death at the hands of Tarzan, or the jaws of the  
hunter creeping ever nearer. Turning, he slunk away  
through the night, toward the distant forest.
  
Tarzan slept on. Where were those uncanny, guardian  
powers that had formerly rendered him immune from the  
dangers of surprise? Could this dull sleeper be the  
alert, sensitive Tarzan of old?
  
Perhaps the blow upon his head had numbed his senses,  
temporarily--who may say? Closer crept the stealthy  
creature through the reeds. The rustling curtain of  
vegetation parted a few paces from where the sleeper  
lay, and the massive head of a lion appeared. The  
beast surveyed the ape-man intently for a moment, then  
he crouched, his hind feet drawn well beneath him, his  
tail lashing from side to side.
  
It was the beating of the beast's tail against the  
reeds which awakened Tarzan. Jungle folk do not awaken  
slowly--instantly, full consciousness and full command  
of their every faculty returns to them from the depth  
of profound slumber.
  
Even as Tarzan opened his eyes he was upon his feet,  
his spear grasped firmly in his hand and ready for  
attack. Again was he Tarzan of the Apes, sentient,  
vigilant, ready.
  
No two lions have identical characteristics, nor does  
the same lion invariably act similarly under like  
circumstances. Whether it was surprise, fear or  
caution which prompted the lion crouching ready to  
spring upon the man, is immaterial--the fact remains  
that he did not carry out his original design, he did  
not spring at the man at all, but, instead, wheeled and  
sprang back into the reeds as Tarzan arose and  
confronted him.
  
The ape-man shrugged his broad shoulders and looked  
about for his companion. Werper was nowhere to be  
seen. At first Tarzan suspected that the man had been  
seized and dragged off by another lion, but upon  
examination of the ground he soon discovered that the  
Belgian had gone away alone out into the plain.
  
For a moment he was puzzled; but presently came to the  
conclusion that Werper had been frightened by the  
approach of the lion, and had sneaked off in terror.
A sneer touched Tarzan's lips as he pondered the man's  
act--the desertion of a comrade in time of danger, and  
without warning. Well, if that was the sort of  
creature Werper was, Tarzan wished nothing more of him.
He had gone, and for all the ape-man cared, he might  
remain away--Tarzan would not search for him.
  
A hundred yards from where he stood grew a large tree,  
alone upon the edge of the reedy jungle. Tarzan made  
his way to it, clambered into it, and finding a  
comfortable crotch among its branches, reposed himself  
for uninterrupted sleep until morning.
  
And when morning came Tarzan slept on long after the  
sun had risen. His mind, reverted to the primitive,  
was untroubled by any more serious obligations than  
those of providing sustenance, and safeguarding his life.
Therefore, there was nothing to awaken for until  
danger threatened, or the pangs of hunger assailed.
It was the latter which eventually aroused him.
  
Opening his eyes, he stretched his giant thews, yawned,  
rose and gazed about him through the leafy foliage of  
his retreat. Across the wasted meadowlands and fields  
of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, Tarzan of the Apes  
looked, as a stranger, upon the moving figures of  
Basuli and his braves as they prepared their morning  
meal and made ready to set out upon the expedition  
which Basuli had planned after discovering the havoc and  
disaster which had befallen the estate of his dead master.
  
The ape-man eyed the blacks with curiosity.
In the back of his brain loitered a fleeting sense of  
familiarity with all that he saw, yet he could not  
connect any of the various forms of life, animate and  
inanimate, which had fallen within the range of his  
vision since he had emerged from the darkness of the  
pits of Opar, with any particular event of the past.
  
Hazily he recalled a grim and hideous form, hairy,  
ferocious. A vague tenderness dominated his savage  
sentiments as this phantom memory struggled for  
recognition. His mind had reverted to his childhood  
days--it was the figure of the giant she-ape, Kala,  
that he saw; but only half recognized. He saw, too,  
other grotesque, manlike forms. They were of Terkoz,  
Tublat, Kerchak, and a smaller, less ferocious figure,  
that was Neeta, the little playmate of his boyhood.
  
Slowly, very slowly, as these visions of the past  
animated his lethargic memory, he came to recognize  
them. They took definite shape and form, adjusting  
themselves nicely to the various incidents of his life  
with which they had been intimately connected. His  
boyhood among the apes spread itself in a slow panorama  
before him, and as it unfolded it induced within him a  
mighty longing for the companionship of the shaggy,  
low-browed brutes of his past.
  
He watched the blacks scatter their cook fire and  
depart; but though the face of each of them had but  
recently been as familiar to him as his own, they  
awakened within him no recollections whatsoever.
  
When they had gone, he descended from the tree and  
sought food. Out upon the plain grazed numerous herds  
of wild ruminants. Toward a sleek, fat bunch of zebra  
he wormed his stealthy way. No intricate process of  
reasoning caused him to circle widely until he was down  
wind from his prey--he acted instinctively. He took  
advantage of every form of cover as he crawled upon all  
fours and often flat upon his stomach toward them.
  
A plump young mare and a fat stallion grazed nearest to  
him as he neared the herd. Again it was instinct which  
selected the former for his meat. A low bush grew but  
a few yards from the unsuspecting two. The ape-man  
reached its shelter. He gathered his spear firmly in  
his grasp. Cautiously he drew his feet beneath him.
In a single swift move he rose and cast his heavy  
weapon at the mare's side. Nor did he wait to note the  
effect of his assault, but leaped cat-like after his  
spear, his hunting knife in his hand.
  
For an instant the two animals stood motionless.
The tearing of the cruel barb into her side brought a  
sudden scream of pain and fright from the mare, and  
then they both wheeled and broke for safety; but Tarzan  
of the Apes, for a distance of a few yards, could equal  
the speed of even these, and the first stride of the  
mare found her overhauled, with a savage beast at her  
shoulder. She turned, biting and kicking at her foe.
Her mate hesitated for an instant, as though about to  
rush to her assistance; but a backward glance revealed  
to him the flying heels of the balance of the herd, and  
with a snort and a shake of his head he wheeled and  
dashed away.
  
Clinging with one hand to the short mane of his quarry,  
Tarzan struck again and again with his knife at the  
unprotected heart. The result had, from the first,  
been inevitable. The mare fought bravely, but  
hopelessly, and presently sank to the earth, her heart  
pierced. The ape-man placed a foot upon her carcass  
and raised his voice in the victory call of the  
Mangani. In the distance, Basuli halted as the faint  
notes of the hideous scream broke upon his ears.
  
"The great apes," he said to his companion. "It has  
been long since I have heard them in the country of the  
Waziri. What could have brought them back?"  
  
Tarzan grasped his kill and dragged it to the partial  
seclusion of the bush which had hidden his own near  
approach, and there he squatted upon it, cut a huge  
hunk of flesh from the loin and proceeded to satisfy  
his hunger with the warm and dripping meat.
  
Attracted by the shrill screams of the mare, a pair of  
hyenas slunk presently into view. They trotted to a  
point a few yards from the gorging ape-man, and halted.
Tarzan looked up, bared his fighting fangs and growled.
The hyenas returned the compliment, and withdrew a  
couple of paces. They made no move to attack; but  
continued to sit at a respectful distance until Tarzan  
had concluded his meal. After the ape-man had cut a  
few strips from the carcass to carry with him, he  
walked slowly off in the direction of the river to  
quench his thirst. His way lay directly toward the  
hyenas, nor did he alter his course because of them.
  
With all the lordly majesty of Numa, the lion,  
he strode straight toward the growling beasts. For a  
moment they held their ground, bristling and defiant;  
but only for a moment, and then slunk away to one side  
while the indifferent ape-man passed them on his lordly  
way. A moment later they were tearing at the remains  
of the zebra.
  
Back to the reeds went Tarzan, and through them toward  
the river. A herd of buffalo, startled by his  
approach, rose ready to charge or to fly. A great bull  
pawed the ground and bellowed as his bloodshot eyes  
discovered the intruder; but the ape-man passed across  
their front as though ignorant of their existence.
The bull's bellowing lessened to a low rumbling, he turned  
and scraped a horde of flies from his side with his  
muzzle, cast a final glance at the ape-man and resumed  
his feeding. His numerous family either followed his  
example or stood gazing after Tarzan in mild-eyed  
curiosity, until the opposite reeds swallowed him from  
view.
  
At the river, Tarzan drank his fill and bathed. During  
the heat of the day he lay up under the shade of a tree  
near the ruins of his burned barns. His eyes wandered  
out across the plain toward the forest, and a longing  
for the pleasures of its mysterious depths possessed  
his thoughts for a considerable time. With the next  
sun he would cross the open and enter the forest! There  
was no hurry--there lay before him an endless vista of  
tomorrows with naught to fill them but the satisfying  
of the appetites and caprices of the moment.
  
The ape-man's mind was untroubled by regret for the  
past, or aspiration for the future. He could lie at  
full length along a swaying branch, stretching his  
giant limbs, and luxuriating in the blessed peace of  
utter thoughtlessness, without an apprehension or a  
worry to sap his nervous energy and rob him of his  
peace of mind. Recalling only dimly any other  
existence, the ape-man was happy. Lord Greystoke had  
ceased to exist.
  
For several hours Tarzan lolled upon his swaying, leafy  
couch until once again hunger and thirst suggested an  
excursion. Stretching lazily he dropped to the ground  
and moved slowly toward the river. The game trail down  
which he walked had become by ages of use a deep,  
narrow trench, its walls topped on either side by  
impenetrable thicket and dense-growing trees closely  
interwoven with thick-stemmed creepers and lesser vines  
inextricably matted into two solid ramparts of  
vegetation. Tarzan had almost reached the point where  
the trail debouched upon the open river bottom when he  
saw a family of lions approaching along the path from  
the direction of the river. The ape-man counted seven--  
a male and two lionesses, full grown, and four young  
lions as large and quite as formidable as their  
parents. Tarzan halted, growling, and the lions  
paused, the great male in the lead baring his fangs and  
rumbling forth a warning roar. In his hand the ape-man  
held his heavy spear; but he had no intention of  
pitting his puny weapon against seven lions; yet he  
stood there growling and roaring and the lions did  
likewise. It was purely an exhibition of jungle bluff.
Each was trying to frighten off the other. Neither  
wished to turn back and give way, nor did either at  
first desire to precipitate an encounter. The lions  
were fed sufficiently so as not to be goaded by pangs  
of hunger and as for Tarzan he seldom ate the meat of  
the carnivores; but a point of ethics was at stake and  
neither side wished to back down. So they stood there  
facing one another, making all sorts of hideous noises  
the while they hurled jungle invective back and forth.
How long this bloodless duel would have persisted it is  
difficult to say, though eventually Tarzan would have  
been forced to yield to superior numbers.
  
There came, however, an interruption which put an end  
to the deadlock and it came from Tarzan's rear. He and  
the lions had been making so much noise that neither  
could hear anything above their concerted bedlam, and  
so it was that Tarzan did not hear the great bulk  
bearing down upon him from behind until an instant  
before it was upon him, and then he turned to see Buto,  
the rhinoceros, his little, pig eyes blazing, charging  
madly toward him and already so close that escape  
seemed impossible; yet so perfectly were mind and  
muscles coordinated in this unspoiled, primitive man  
that almost simultaneously with the sense perception of  
the threatened danger he wheeled and hurled his spear  
at Buto's chest. It was a heavy spear shod with iron,  
and behind it were the giant muscles of the ape-man,  
while coming to meet it was the enormous weight of Buto  
and the momentum of his rapid rush. All that happened  
in the instant that Tarzan turned to meet the charge of  
the irascible rhinoceros might take long to tell, and  
yet would have taxed the swiftest lens to record.
As his spear left his hand the ape-man was looking down  
upon the mighty horn lowered to toss him, so close was  
Buto to him. The spear entered the rhinoceros' neck at  
its junction with the left shoulder and passed almost  
entirely through the beast's body, and at the instant  
that he launched it, Tarzan leaped straight into the  
air alighting upon Buto's back but escaping the mighty  
horn.
  
Then Buto espied the lions and bore madly down upon  
them while Tarzan of the Apes leaped nimbly into the  
tangled creepers at one side of the trail. The first  
lion met Buto's charge and was tossed high over the  
back of the maddened brute, torn and dying, and then  
the six remaining lions were upon the rhinoceros,  
rending and tearing the while they were being gored or  
trampled. From the safety of his perch Tarzan watched  
the royal battle with the keenest interest, for the  
more intelligent of the jungle folk are interested in  
such encounters. They are to them what the racetrack  
and the prize ring, the theater and the movies are to  
us. They see them often; but always they enjoy them for  
no two are precisely alike.
  
For a time it seemed to Tarzan that Buto, the  
rhinoceros, would prove victor in the gory battle.
Already had he accounted for four of the seven lions  
and badly wounded the three remaining when in a  
momentary lull in the encounter he sank limply to his  
knees and rolled over upon his side. Tarzan's spear  
had done its work. It was the man-made weapon which  
killed the great beast that might easily have survived  
the assault of seven mighty lions, for Tarzan's spear  
had pierced the great lungs, and Buto, with victory  
almost in sight, succumbed to internal hemorrhage.
  
Then Tarzan came down from his sanctuary and as the  
wounded lions, growling, dragged themselves away, the  
ape-man cut his spear from the body of Buto, hacked off  
a steak and vanished into the jungle. The episode was  
over. It had been all in the day's work--something  
which you and I might talk about for a lifetime Tarzan  
dismissed from his mind the moment that the scene  
passed from his sight.
  
  
  
12  
  
La Seeks Vengeance  
  
  
Swinging back through the jungle in a wide circle the  
ape-man came to the river at another point, drank and  
took to the trees again and while he hunted, all  
oblivious of his past and careless of his future, there  
came through the dark jungles and the open, parklike  
places and across the wide meadows, where grazed the  
countless herbivora of the mysterious continent, a  
weird and terrible caravan in search of him. There  
were fifty frightful men with hairy bodies and gnarled  
and crooked legs. They were armed with knives and  
great bludgeons and at their head marched an almost  
naked woman, beautiful beyond compare. It was La of  
Opar, High Priestess of the Flaming God, and fifty of  
her horrid priests searching for the purloiner of the  
sacred sacrificial knife.
  
Never before had La passed beyond the crumbling outer  
walls of Opar; but never before had need been so  
insistent. The sacred knife was gone! Handed down  
through countless ages it had come to her as a heritage  
and an insignia of her religious office and regal  
authority from some long-dead progenitor of lost and  
forgotten Atlantis. The loss of the crown jewels or  
the Great Seal of England could have brought no greater  
consternation to a British king than did the pilfering  
of the sacred knife bring to La, the Oparian, Queen and  
High Priestess of the degraded remnants of the oldest  
civilization upon earth. When Atlantis, with all her  
mighty cities and her cultivated fields and her great  
commerce and culture and riches sank into the sea long  
ages since, she took with her all but a handful of her  
colonists working the vast gold mines of Central  
Africa. From these and their degraded slaves and a  
later intermixture of the blood of the anthropoids  
sprung the gnarled men of Opar; but by some queer freak  
of fate, aided by natural selection, the old Atlantean  
strain had remained pure and undegraded in the females  
descended from a single princess of the royal house of  
Atlantis who had been in Opar at the time of the great  
catastrophe. Such was La.
  
Burning with white-hot anger was the High Priestess,  
her heart a seething, molten mass of hatred for Tarzan  
of the Apes. The zeal of the religious fanatic whose  
altar has been desecrated was triply enhanced by the  
rage of a woman scorned. Twice had she thrown her  
heart at the feet of the godlike ape-man and twice had  
she been repulsed. La knew that she was beautiful--and  
she was beautiful, not by the standards of prehistoric  
Atlantis alone, but by those of modern times was La  
physically a creature of perfection. Before Tarzan  
came that first time to Opar, La had never seen a human  
male other than the grotesque and knotted men of her  
clan. With one of these she must mate sooner or later  
that the direct line of high priestesses might not be  
broken, unless Fate should bring other men to Opar.
Before Tarzan came upon his first visit, La had had no  
thought that such men as he existed, for she knew only  
her hideous little priests and the bulls of the tribe  
of great anthropoids that had dwelt from time  
immemorial in and about Opar, until they had come to be  
looked upon almost as equals by the Oparians. Among  
the legends of Opar were tales of godlike men of the  
olden time and of black men who had come more recently;  
but these latter had been enemies who killed and  
robbed. And, too, these legends always held forth the  
hope that some day that nameless continent from which  
their race had sprung, would rise once more out of the  
sea and with slaves at the long sweeps would send her  
carven, gold-picked galleys forth to succor the  
long-exiled colonists.
  
The coming of Tarzan had aroused within La's breast the  
wild hope that at last the fulfillment of this ancient  
prophecy was at hand; but more strongly still had it  
aroused the hot fires of love in a heart that never  
otherwise would have known the meaning of that  
all-consuming passion, for such a wondrous creature as  
La could never have felt love for any of the repulsive  
priests of Opar. Custom, duty and religious zeal might  
have commanded the union; but there could have been no  
love on La's part. She had grown to young womanhood a  
cold and heartless creature, daughter of a thousand  
other cold, heartless, beautiful women who had never  
known love. And so when love came to her it liberated  
all the pent passions of a thousand generations,  
transforming La into a pulsing, throbbing volcano of  
desire, and with desire thwarted this great force of  
love and gentleness and sacrifice was transmuted by its  
own fires into one of hatred and revenge.
  
It was in a state of mind superinduced by these  
conditions that La led forth her jabbering company to  
retrieve the sacred emblem of her high office and wreak  
vengeance upon the author of her wrongs. To Werper she  
gave little thought. The fact that the knife had been  
in his hand when it departed from Opar brought down no  
thoughts of vengeance upon his head. Of course, he  
should be slain when captured; but his death would give  
La no pleasure--she looked for that in the contemplated  
death agonies of Tarzan. He should be tortured.
His should be a slow and frightful death. His punishment  
should be adequate to the immensity of his crime.
He had wrested the sacred knife from La; he had lain  
sacreligious hands upon the High Priestess of the  
Flaming God; he had desecrated the altar and the  
temple. For these things he should die; but he had  
scorned the love of La, the woman, and for this he  
should die horribly with great anguish.
  
The march of La and her priests was not without its  
adventures. Unused were these to the ways of the  
jungle, since seldom did any venture forth from behind  
Opar's crumbling walls, yet their very numbers  
protected them and so they came without fatalities far  
along the trail of Tarzan and Werper. Three great apes  
accompanied them and to these was delegated the  
business of tracking the quarry, a feat beyond the  
senses of the Oparians. La commanded. She arranged  
the order of march, she selected the camps, she set the  
hour for halting and the hour for resuming and though  
she was inexperienced in such matters, her native  
intelligence was so far above that of the men or the  
apes that she did better than they could have done.
She was a hard taskmaster, too, for she looked down  
with loathing and contempt upon the misshapen creatures  
amongst which cruel Fate had thrown her and to some  
extent vented upon them her dissatisfaction and her  
thwarted love. She made them build her a strong  
protection and shelter each night and keep a great fire  
burning before it from dusk to dawn. When she tired of  
walking they were forced to carry her upon an  
improvised litter, nor did one dare to question her  
authority or her right to such services. In fact they  
did not question either. To them she was a goddess and  
each loved her and each hoped that he would be chosen  
as her mate, so they slaved for her and bore the  
stinging lash of her displeasure and the habitually  
haughty disdain of her manner without a murmur.
  
For many days they marched, the apes following the  
trail easily and going a little distance ahead of the  
body of the caravan that they might warn the others of  
impending danger. It was during a noonday halt while  
all were lying resting after a tiresome march that one  
of the apes rose suddenly and sniffed the breeze. In a  
low guttural he cautioned the others to silence and a  
moment later was swinging quietly up wind into the  
jungle. La and the priests gathered silently together,  
the hideous little men fingering their knives and  
bludgeons, and awaited the return of the shaggy  
anthropoid.
  
Nor had they long to wait before they saw him emerge  
from a leafy thicket and approach them. Straight to La  
he came and in the language of the great apes which was  
also the language of decadent Opar he addressed her.
  
"The great Tarmangani lies asleep there," he said,  
pointing in the direction from which he had just come.
"Come and we can kill him."  
  
"Do not kill him," commanded La in cold tones.
"Bring the great Tarmangani to me alive and unhurt.
The vengeance is La's. Go; but make no sound!" and she  
waved her hands to include all her followers.
  
Cautiously the weird party crept through the jungle in  
the wake of the great ape until at last he halted them  
with a raised hand and pointed upward and a little  
ahead. There they saw the giant form of the ape-man  
stretched along a low bough and even in sleep one hand  
grasped a stout limb and one strong, brown leg reached  
out and overlapped another. At ease lay Tarzan of the  
Apes, sleeping heavily upon a full stomach and dreaming  
of Numa, the lion, and Horta, the boar, and other  
creatures of the jungle. No intimation of danger  
assailed the dormant faculties of the ape-man--he saw  
no crouching hairy figures upon the ground beneath him  
nor the three apes that swung quietly into the  tree  
beside him.
  
The first intimation of danger that came to Tarzan was  
the impact of three bodies as the three apes leaped  
upon him and hurled him to the ground, where he  
alighted half stunned beneath their combined weight and  
was immediately set upon by the fifty hairy men or as  
many of them as could swarm upon his person. Instantly  
the ape-man became the center of a whirling, striking,  
biting maelstrom of horror. He fought nobly but the  
odds against him were too great. Slowly they overcame  
him though there was scarce one of them that did not  
feel the weight of his mighty fist or the rending of  
his fangs.
  
  
  
13  
  
Condemned To Torture and Death  
  
  
La had followed her company and when she saw them  
clawing and biting at Tarzan, she raised her voice and  
cautioned them not to kill him. She saw that he was  
weakening and that soon the greater numbers would  
prevail over him, nor had she long to wait before the  
mighty jungle creature lay helpless and bound at her  
feet.
  
"Bring him to the place at which we stopped," she  
commanded and they carried Tarzan back to the little  
clearing and threw him down beneath a tree.
  
"Build me a shelter!" ordered La. "We shall stop here  
tonight and tomorrow in the face of the Flaming God, La  
will offer up the heart of this defiler of the temple.
Where is the sacred knife? Who took it from him?"  
  
But no one had seen it and each was positive in his  
assurance that the sacrificial weapon had not been upon  
Tarzan's person when they captured him. The ape-man  
looked upon the menacing creatures which surrounded him  
and snarled his defiance. He looked upon La and  
smiled. In the face of death he was unafraid.
  
"Where is the knife?" La asked him.
  
"I do not know," replied Tarzan. "The man took it with  
him when he slipped away during the night. Since you  
are so desirous for its return I would look for him and  
get it back for you, did you not hold me prisoner; but  
now that I am to die I cannot get it back. Of what  
good was your knife, anyway? You can make another.
Did you follow us all this way for nothing more than a  
knife? Let me go and find him and I will bring it back  
to you."  
  
La laughed a bitter laugh, for in her heart she knew  
that Tarzan's sin was greater than the purloining of  
the sacrificial knife of Opar; yet as she looked at him  
lying bound and helpless before her, tears rose to her  
eyes so that she had to turn away to hide them; but she  
remained inflexible in her determination to make him  
pay in frightful suffering and in eventual death for  
daring to spurn the love of La.
  
When the shelter was completed La had Tarzan  
transferred to it. "All night I shall torture him,"  
she muttered to her priests, "and at the first streak  
of dawn you may prepare the flaming altar upon which  
his heart shall be offered up to the Flaming God.
Gather wood well filled with pitch, lay it in the form  
and size of the altar at Opar in the center of the  
clearing that the Flaming God may look down upon our  
handiwork and be pleased."  
  
During the balance of the day the priests of Opar were  
busy erecting an altar in the center of the clearing,  
and while they worked they chanted weird hymns in the  
ancient tongue of that lost continent that lies at the  
bottom of the Atlantic. They knew not the meanings of  
the words they mouthed; they but repeated the ritual  
that had been handed down from preceptor to neophyte  
since that long-gone day when the ancestors of the  
Piltdown man still swung by their tails in the humid  
jungles that are England now.
  
And in the shelter of the hut, La paced to and fro  
beside the stoic ape-man. Resigned to his fate was  
Tarzan. No hope of succor gleamed through the dead  
black of the death sentence hanging over him. He knew  
that his giant muscles could not part the many strands  
that bound his wrists and ankles, for he had strained  
often, but ineffectually for release. He had no hope  
of outside help and only enemies surrounded him within  
the camp, and yet he smiled at La as she paced  
nervously back and forth the length of the shelter.
  
And La? She fingered her knife and looked down upon her  
captive. She glared and muttered but she did not  
strike. "Tonight!" she thought. "Tonight, when it is  
dark I will torture him." She looked upon his perfect,  
godlike figure and upon his handsome, smiling face and  
then she steeled her heart again by thoughts of her  
love spurned; by religious thoughts that damned the  
infidel who had desecrated the holy of holies; who had  
taken from the blood-stained altar of Opar the offering  
to the Flaming God--and not once but thrice.
Three times had Tarzan cheated the god of her fathers.
At the thought La paused and knelt at his side. In her  
hand was a sharp knife. She placed its point against  
the ape-man's side and pressed upon the hilt; but  
Tarzan only smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
  
How beautiful he was! La bent low over him, looking  
into his eyes. How perfect was his figure. She  
compared it with those of the knurled and knotted men  
from whom she must choose a mate, and La shuddered at  
the thought. Dusk came and after dusk came night.
A great fire blazed within the little thorn boma about  
the camp. The flames played upon the new altar erected  
in the center of the clearing, arousing in the mind of  
the High Priestess of the Flaming God a picture of the  
event of the coming dawn. She saw this giant and  
perfect form writhing amid the flames of the burning  
pyre. She saw those smiling lips, burned and  
blackened, falling away from the strong, white teeth.
She saw the shock of black hair tousled upon Tarzan's  
well-shaped head disappear in a spurt of flame. She  
saw these and many other frightful pictures as she  
stood with closed eyes and clenched fists above the  
object of her hate--ah! was it hate that La of Opar  
felt?
  
The darkness of the jungle night had settled down upon  
the camp, relieved only by the fitful flarings of the  
fire that was kept up to warn off the man-eaters.
Tarzan lay quietly in his bonds. He suffered from  
thirst and from the cutting of the tight strands about  
his wrists and ankles; but he made no complaint.
A jungle beast was Tarzan with the stoicism of the beast  
and the intelligence of man. He knew that his doom was  
sealed--that no supplications would avail to temper the  
severity of his end and so he wasted no breath in  
pleadings; but waited patiently in the firm conviction  
that his sufferings could not endure forever.
  
In the darkness La stooped above him. In her hand was  
a sharp knife and in her mind the determination to  
initiate his torture without further delay. The knife  
was pressed against his side and La's face was close to  
his when a sudden burst of flame from new branches  
thrown upon the fire without, lighted up the interior  
of the shelter. Close beneath her lips La saw the  
perfect features of the forest god and into her woman's  
heart welled all the great love she had felt for Tarzan  
since first she had seen him, and all the accumulated  
passion of the years that she had dreamed of him.
  
Dagger in hand, La, the High Priestess, towered above  
the helpless creature that had dared to violate the  
sanctuary of her deity. There should be no torture--  
there should be instant death. No longer should the  
defiler of the temple pollute the sight of the lord god  
almighty. A single stroke of the heavy blade and then  
the corpse to the flaming pyre without. The knife arm  
stiffened ready for the downward plunge, and then La,  
the woman, collapsed weakly upon the body of the man  
she loved.
  
She ran her hands in mute caress over his naked flesh;  
she covered his forehead, his eyes, his lips with hot  
kisses; she covered him with her body as though to  
protect him from the hideous fate she had ordained for  
him, and in trembling, piteous tones she begged him for  
his love. For hours the frenzy of her passion  
possessed the burning hand-maiden of the Flaming God,  
until at last sleep overpowered her and she lapsed into  
unconsciousness beside the man she had sworn to torture  
and to slay. And Tarzan, untroubled by thoughts of the  
future, slept peacefully in La's embrace.
  
At the first hint of dawn the chanting of the priests  
of Opar brought Tarzan to wakefulness. Initiated in  
low and subdued tones, the sound soon rose in volume to  
the open diapason of barbaric blood lust. La stirred.
Her perfect arm pressed Tarzan closer to her--a smile  
parted her lips and then she awoke, and slowly the  
smile faded and her eyes went wide in horror as the  
significance of the death chant impinged upon her  
understanding.
  
"Love me, Tarzan!" she cried. "Love me, and you shall  
be saved."  
  
Tarzan's bonds hurt him. He was suffering the tortures  
of long-restricted circulation. With an angry growl he  
rolled over with his back toward La. That was her  
answer! The High Priestess leaped to her feet. A hot  
flush of shame mantled her cheek and then she went dead  
white and stepped to the shelter's entrance.
  
"Come, Priests of the Flaming God!" she cried,  
"and make ready the sacrifice."  
  
The warped things advanced and entered the shelter.
They laid hands upon Tarzan and bore him forth, and as  
they chanted they kept time with their crooked bodies,  
swaying to and fro to the rhythm of their song of blood  
and death. Behind them came La, swaying too; but not  
in unison with the chanted cadence. White and drawn  
was the face of the High Priestess--white and drawn  
with unrequited love and hideous terror of the moments  
to come. Yet stern in her resolve was La. The infidel  
should die! The scorner of her love should pay the  
price upon the fiery altar. She saw them lay the  
perfect body there upon the rough branches. She saw  
the High Priest, he to whom custom would unite her--  
bent, crooked, gnarled, stunted, hideous--advance with  
the flaming torch and stand awaiting her command to  
apply it to the faggots surrounding the sacrificial  
pyre. His hairy, bestial face was distorted in a  
yellow-fanged grin of anticipatory enjoyment. His  
hands were cupped to receive the life blood of the  
victim--the red nectar that at Opar would have filled  
the golden sacrificial goblets.
  
La approached with upraised knife, her face turned  
toward the rising sun and upon her lips a prayer to the  
burning deity of her people. The High Priest looked  
questioningly toward her--the brand was burning close  
to his hand and the faggots lay temptingly near.
Tarzan closed his eyes and awaited the end. He knew  
that he would suffer, for he recalled the faint  
memories of past burns. He knew that he would suffer  
and die; but he did not flinch. Death is no great  
adventure to the jungle bred who walk hand-in-hand with  
the grim specter by day and lie down at his side by  
night through all the years of their lives. It is  
doubtful that the ape-man even speculated upon what  
came after death. As a matter of fact as his end  
approached, his mind was occupied by thoughts of the  
pretty pebbles he had lost, yet his every faculty still  
was open to what passed around him.
  
He felt La lean over him and he opened his eyes.
He saw her white, drawn face and he saw tears blinding  
her eyes. "Tarzan, my Tarzan!" she moaned, "tell me that  
you love me--that you will return to Opar with me--and  
you shall live. Even in the face of the anger of my  
people I will save you. This last chance I give you.
What is your answer?"  
  
At the last moment the woman in La had triumphed over  
the High Priestess of a cruel cult. She saw upon the  
altar the only creature that ever had aroused the fires  
of love within her virgin breast; she saw the beast-faced  
fanatic who would one day be her mate, unless she  
found another less repulsive, standing with the burning  
torch ready to ignite the pyre; yet with all her mad  
passion for the ape-man she would give the word to  
apply the flame if Tarzan's final answer was  
unsatisfactory. With heaving bosom she leaned close  
above him. "Yes or no?" she whispered.
  
Through the jungle, out of the distance, came faintly a  
sound that brought a sudden light of hope to Tarzan's  
eyes. He raised his voice in a weird scream that sent  
La back from him a step or two. The impatient priest  
grumbled and switched the torch from one hand to the  
other at the same time holding it closer to the tinder  
at the base of the pyre.
  
"Your answer!" insisted La. "What is your answer to  
the love of La of Opar?"  
  
Closer came the sound that had attracted Tarzan's  
attention and now the others heard it--the shrill  
trumpeting of an elephant. As La looked wide-eyed into  
Tarzan's face, there to read her fate for happiness or  
heartbreak, she saw an expression of concern shadow his  
features. Now, for the first time, she guessed the  
meaning of Tarzan's shrill scream--he had summoned  
Tantor, the elephant, to his rescue! La's brows  
contracted in a savage scowl. "You refuse La!"  
she cried. "Then die! The torch!" she commanded,  
turning toward the priest.
  
Tarzan looked up into her face. "Tantor is coming,"  
he said. "I thought that he would rescue me; but I know  
now from his voice that he will slay me and you and all  
that fall in his path, searching out with the cunning  
of Sheeta, the panther, those who would hide from him,  
for Tantor is mad with the madness of love."  
  
La knew only too well the insane ferocity of a bull  
elephant in MUST. She knew that Tarzan had not  
exaggerated. She knew that the devil in the cunning,  
cruel brain of the great beast might send it hither and  
thither hunting through the forest for those who  
escaped its first charge, or the beast might pass on  
without returning--no one might guess which.
  
"I cannot love you, La," said Tarzan in a low voice.
"I do not know why, for you are very beautiful.
I could not go back and live in Opar--I who have the  
whole broad jungle for my range. No, I cannot love you  
but I cannot see you die beneath the goring tusks of  
mad Tantor. Cut my bonds before it is too late.
Already he is almost upon us. Cut them and I may yet  
save you."  
  
A little spiral of curling smoke rose from one corner  
of the pyre--the flames licked upward, crackling.
La stood there like a beautiful statue of despair gazing  
at Tarzan and at the spreading flames. In a moment  
they would reach out and grasp him. From the tangled  
forest came the sound of cracking limbs and crashing  
trunks--Tantor was coming down upon them, a huge  
Juggernaut of the jungle. The priests were becoming  
uneasy. They cast apprehensive glances in the direction  
of the approaching elephant and then back at La.
  
"Fly!" she commanded them and then she stooped and cut  
the bonds securing her prisoner's feet and hands.
In an instant Tarzan was upon the ground. The priests  
screamed out their rage and disappointment. He with  
the torch took a menacing step toward La and the ape-man.
"Traitor!" He shrieked at the woman. "For this  
you too shall die!" Raising his bludgeon he rushed upon  
the High Priestess; but Tarzan was there before her.
Leaping in to close quarters the ape-man seized the  
upraised weapon and wrenched it from the hands of the  
frenzied fanatic and then the priest closed upon him  
with tooth and nail. Seizing the stocky, stunted body  
in his mighty hands Tarzan raised the creature high  
above his head, hurling him at his fellows who were now  
gathered ready to bear down upon their erstwhile  
captive. La stood proudly with ready knife behind the  
ape-man. No faint sign of fear marked her perfect  
brow--only haughty disdain for her priests and  
admiration for the man she loved so hopelessly filled  
her thoughts.
  
Suddenly upon this scene burst the mad bull--a huge  
tusker, his little eyes inflamed with insane rage.
The priests stood for an instant paralyzed with terror;  
but Tarzan turned and gathering La in his arms raced for  
the nearest tree. Tantor bore down upon him trumpeting shrilly.
La clung with both white arms about the ape-man's neck.
She felt him leap into the air and  
marveled at his strength and his ability as, burdened  
with her weight, he swung nimbly into the lower  
branches of a large tree and quickly bore her upward  
beyond reach of the sinuous trunk of the pachyderm.
  
Momentarily baffled here, the huge elephant wheeled and  
bore down upon the hapless priests who had now  
scattered, terror-stricken, in every direction.
The nearest he gored and threw high among the branches  
of a tree. One he seized in the coils of his trunk and  
broke upon a huge bole, dropping the mangled pulp to  
charge, trumpeting, after another. Two he trampled  
beneath his huge feet and by then the others had  
disappeared into the jungle. Now Tantor turned his  
attention once more to Tarzan for one of the symptoms  
of madness is a revulsion of affection--objects of sane  
love become the objects of insane hatred. Peculiar in  
the unwritten annals of the jungle was the proverbial  
love that had existed between the ape-man and the tribe  
of Tantor. No elephant in all the jungle would harm  
the Tarmangani--the white-ape; but with the madness of  
MUST upon him the great bull sought to destroy his  
long-time play-fellow.
  
Back to the tree where La and Tarzan perched came  
Tantor, the elephant. He reared up with his forefeet  
against the bole and reached high toward them with his  
long trunk; but Tarzan had foreseen this and clambered  
beyond the bull's longest reach. Failure but tended to  
further enrage the mad creature. He bellowed and  
trumpeted and screamed until the earth shook to the  
mighty volume of his noise. He put his head against  
the tree and pushed and the tree bent before his mighty  
strength; yet still it held.
  
The actions of Tarzan were peculiar in the extreme.
Had Numa, or Sabor, or Sheeta, or any other beast of  
the jungle been seeking to destroy him, the ape-man  
would have danced about hurling missiles and invectives  
at his assailant. He would have insulted and taunted  
them, reviling in the jungle Billingsgate he knew so  
well; but now he sat silent out of Tantor's reach and  
upon his handsome face was an expression of deep sorrow  
and pity, for of all the jungle folk Tarzan loved  
Tantor the best. Could he have slain him he would not  
have thought of doing so. His one idea was to escape,  
for he knew that with the passing of the MUST  
Tantor would be sane again and that once more he might  
stretch at full length upon that mighty back and make  
foolish speech into those great, flapping ears.
  
Finding that the tree would not fall to his pushing,  
Tantor was but enraged the more. He looked up at the  
two perched high above him, his red-rimmed eyes blazing  
with insane hatred, and then he wound his trunk about  
the bole of the tree, spread his giant feet wide apart  
and tugged to uproot the jungle giant. A huge creature  
was Tantor, an enormous bull in the full prime of all  
his stupendous strength. Mightily he strove until  
presently, to Tarzan's consternation, the great tree  
gave slowly at the roots. The ground rose in little  
mounds and ridges about the base of the bole, the tree  
tilted--in another moment it would be uprooted and fall.
  
The ape-man whirled La to his back and just as the tree  
inclined slowly in its first movement out of the  
perpendicular, before the sudden rush of its final  
collapse, he swung to the branches of a lesser  
neighbor. It was a long and perilous leap. La closed  
her eyes and shuddered; but when she opened them again  
she found herself safe and Tarzan whirling onward  
through the forest. Behind them the uprooted tree  
crashed heavily to the ground, carrying with it the  
lesser trees in its path and then Tantor, realizing  
that his prey had escaped him, set up once more his  
hideous trumpeting and followed at a rapid charge upon  
their trail.
  
  
  
14  
  
A Priestess But Yet a Woman  
  
  
At first La closed her eyes and clung to Tarzan in terror,  
though she made no outcry; but presently she gained  
sufficient courage to look about her, to look down  
at the ground beneath and even to keep her eyes open  
during the wide, perilous swings from tree to tree,  
and then there came over her a sense of safety  
because of her confidence in the perfect physical  
creature in whose strength and nerve and agility her  
fate lay. Once she raised her eyes to the burning sun  
and murmured a prayer of thanks to her pagan god that  
she had not been permitted to destroy this godlike man,  
and her long lashes were wet with tears. A strange  
anomaly was La of Opar--a creature of circumstance torn  
by conflicting emotions. Now the cruel and  
bloodthirsty creature of a heartless god and again a  
melting woman filled with compassion and tenderness.
Sometimes the incarnation of jealousy and revenge and  
sometimes a sobbing maiden, generous and forgiving; at  
once a virgin and a wanton; but always--a woman.
Such was La.
  
She pressed her cheek close to Tarzan's shoulder.
Slowly she turned her head until her hot lips were  
pressed against his flesh. She loved him and would  
gladly have died for him; yet within an hour she had  
been ready to plunge a knife into his heart and might  
again within the coming hour.
  
A hapless priest seeking shelter in the jungle chanced  
to show himself to enraged Tantor. The great beast  
turned to one side, bore down upon the crooked, little  
man, snuffed him out and then, diverted from his  
course, blundered away toward the south. In a few  
minutes even the noise of his trumpeting was lost in  
the distance.
  
Tarzan dropped to the ground and La slipped to her feet  
from his back. "Call your people together," said Tarzan.
  
"They will kill me," replied La.
  
"They will not kill you," contradicted the ape-man.
"No one will kill you while Tarzan of the Apes is here.
Call them and we will talk with them."  
  
La raised her voice in a weird, flutelike call that  
carried far into the jungle on every side. From near  
and far came answering shouts in the barking tones of  
the Oparian priests: "We come! We come!" Again and  
again, La repeated her summons until singly and in  
pairs the greater portion of her following approached  
and halted a short distance away from the High  
Priestess and her savior. They came with scowling  
brows and threatening mien. When all had come Tarzan  
addressed them.
  
"Your La is safe," said the ape-man. "Had she slain me  
she would now herself be dead and many more of you; but  
she spared me that I might save her. Go your way with  
her back to Opar, and Tarzan will go his way into the  
jungle. Let there be peace always between Tarzan and  
La. What is your answer?"  
  
The priests grumbled and shook their heads. They spoke  
together and La and Tarzan could see that they were not  
favorably inclined toward the proposition. They did  
not wish to take La back and they did wish to complete  
the sacrifice of Tarzan to the Flaming God. At last  
the ape-man became impatient.
  
"You will obey the commands of your queen," he said,  
"and go back to Opar with her or Tarzan of the Apes  
will call together the other creatures of the jungle  
and slay you all. La saved me that I might save you  
and her. I have served you better alive than I could  
have dead. If you are not all fools you will let me go  
my way in peace and you will return to Opar with La.
I know not where the sacred knife is; but you can fashion  
another. Had I not taken it from La you would have  
slain me and now your god must be glad that I took it  
since I have saved his priestess from love-mad Tantor.
Will you go back to Opar with La, promising that no  
harm shall befall her?"  
  
The priests gathered together in a little knot arguing  
and discussing. They pounded upon their breasts with  
their fists; they raised their hands and eyes to their  
fiery god; they growled and barked among themselves  
until it became evident to Tarzan that one of their  
number was preventing the acceptance of his proposal.
This was the High Priest whose heart was filled with  
jealous rage because La openly acknowledged her love  
for the stranger, when by the worldly customs of their  
cult she should have belonged to him. Seemingly there  
was to be no solution of the problem until another  
priest stepped forth and, raising his hand, addressed  
La.
  
"Cadj, the High Priest," he announced, "would sacrifice  
you both to the Flaming God; but all of us except Cadj  
would gladly return to Opar with our queen."  
  
"You are many against one," spoke up Tarzan.
"Why should you not have your will? Go your way with  
La to Opar and if Cadj interferes slay him."  
  
The priests of Opar welcomed this suggestion with loud  
cries of approval. To them it appeared nothing short  
of divine inspiration. The influence of ages of  
unquestioning obedience to high priests had made it  
seem impossible to them to question his authority; but  
when they realized that they could force him to their  
will they were as happy as children with new toys.
  
They rushed forward and seized Cadj. They talked in  
loud menacing tones into his ear. They threatened him  
with bludgeon and knife until at last he acquiesced in  
their demands, though sullenly, and then Tarzan stepped  
close before Cadj.
  
"Priest," he said, "La goes back to her temple under  
the protection of her priests and the threat of Tarzan  
of the Apes that whoever harms her shall die. Tarzan  
will go again to Opar before the next rains and if harm  
has befallen La, woe betide Cadj, the High Priest."  
  
Sullenly Cadj promised not to harm his queen.
  
"Protect her," cried Tarzan to the other Oparians.
"Protect her so that when Tarzan comes again he will  
find La there to greet him."  
  
"La will be there to greet thee," exclaimed the High  
Priestess, "and La will wait, longing, always longing,  
until you come again. Oh, tell me that you will come!"  
  
"Who knows?" asked the ape-man as he swung quickly into  
the trees and raced off toward the east.
  
For a moment La stood looking after him, then her head  
drooped, a sigh escaped her lips and like an old woman  
she took up the march toward distant Opar.
  
Through the trees raced Tarzan of the Apes until the  
darkness of night had settled upon the jungle, then he  
lay down and slept, with no thought beyond the morrow  
and with even La but the shadow of a memory within his  
consciousness.
  
But a few marches to the north Lady Greystoke looked  
forward to the day when her mighty lord and master  
should discover the crime of Achmet Zek, and be  
speeding to rescue and avenge, and even as she pictured  
the coming of John Clayton, the object of her thoughts  
squatted almost naked, beside a fallen log, beneath  
which he was searching with grimy fingers for a chance  
beetle or a luscious grub.
  
Two days elapsed following the theft of the jewels  
before Tarzan gave them a thought. Then, as they  
chanced to enter his mind, he conceived a desire to  
play with them again, and, having nothing better to do  
than satisfy the first whim which possessed him, he  
rose and started across the plain from the forest in  
which he had spent the preceding day.
  
Though no mark showed where the gems had been buried,  
and though the spot resembled the balance of an  
unbroken stretch several miles in length, where the  
reeds terminated at the edge of the meadowland, yet the  
ape-man moved with unerring precision directly to the  
place where he had hid his treasure.
  
With his hunting knife he upturned the loose earth,  
beneath which the pouch should be; but, though he  
excavated to a greater distance than the depth of the  
original hole there was no sign of pouch or jewels.
Tarzan's brow clouded as he discovered that he had been  
despoiled. Little or no reasoning was required to  
convince him of the identity of the guilty party, and  
with the same celerity that had marked his decision to  
unearth the jewels, he set out upon the trail of the  
thief.
  
Though the spoor was two days old, and practically  
obliterated in many places, Tarzan followed it with  
comparative ease. A white man could not have followed  
it twenty paces twelve hours after it had been made, a  
black man would have lost it within the first mile; but  
Tarzan of the Apes had been forced in childhood to  
develop senses that an ordinary mortal scarce ever uses.
  
We may note the garlic and whisky on the breath of a  
fellow strap hanger, or the cheap perfume emanating  
from the person of the wondrous lady sitting in front  
of us, and deplore the fact of our sensitive noses;  
but, as a matter of fact, we cannot smell at all, our  
olfactory organs are practically atrophied, by  
comparison with the development of the sense among the  
beasts of the wild.
  
Where a foot is placed an effluvium remains for a  
considerable time. It is beyond the range of our  
sensibilities; but to a creature of the lower orders,  
especially to the hunters and the hunted, as  
interesting and ofttimes more lucid than is the printed  
page to us.
  
Nor was Tarzan dependent alone upon his sense of smell.
Vision and hearing had been brought to a marvelous  
state of development by the necessities of his early  
life, where survival itself depended almost daily upon  
the exercise of the keenest vigilance and the constant  
use of all his faculties.
  
And so he followed the old trail of the Belgian through  
the forest and toward the north; but because of the age  
of the trail he was constrained to a far from rapid  
progress. The man he followed was two days ahead of  
him when Tarzan took up the pursuit, and each day he  
gained upon the ape-man. The latter, however, felt not  
the slightest doubt as to the outcome. Some day he  
would overhaul his quarry--he could bide his time in  
peace until that day dawned. Doggedly he followed the  
faint spoor, pausing by day only to kill and eat, and  
at night only to sleep and refresh himself.
  
Occasionally he passed parties of savage warriors; but  
these he gave a wide berth, for he was hunting with a  
purpose that was not to be distracted by the minor  
accidents of the trail.
  
These parties were of the collecting hordes of the  
Waziri and their allies which Basuli had scattered his  
messengers broadcast to summon. They were marching to  
a common rendezvous in preparation for an assault upon  
the stronghold of Achmet Zek; but to Tarzan they were  
enemies--he retained no conscious memory of any  
friendship for the black men.
  
It was night when he halted outside the palisaded  
village of the Arab raider. Perched in the branches of  
a great tree he gazed down upon the life within the  
enclosure. To this place had the spoor led him. His  
quarry must be within; but how was he to find him among  
so many huts? Tarzan, although cognizant of his mighty  
powers, realized also his limitations. He knew that he  
could not successfully cope with great numbers in open  
battle. He must resort to the stealth and trickery of  
the wild beast, if he were to succeed.
  
Sitting in the safety of his tree, munching upon the  
leg bone of Horta, the boar, Tarzan waited a favorable  
opportunity to enter the village. For awhile he gnawed  
at the bulging, round ends of the large bone,  
splintering off small pieces between his strong jaws,  
and sucking at the delicious marrow within; but all the  
time he cast repeated glances into the village. He saw  
white-robed figures, and half-naked blacks; but not  
once did he see one who resembled the stealer of the gems.
  
Patiently he waited until the streets were deserted by  
all save the sentries at the gates, then he dropped  
lightly to the ground, circled to the opposite side of  
the village and approached the palisade.
  
At his side hung a long, rawhide rope--a natural and  
more dependable evolution from the grass rope of his  
childhood. Loosening this, he spread the noose upon the  
ground behind him, and with a quick movement of his  
wrist tossed the coils over one of the sharpened  
projections of the summit of the palisade.
  
Drawing the noose taut, he tested the solidity of its  
hold. Satisfied, the ape-man ran nimbly up the vertical  
wall, aided by the rope which he clutched in both  
hands. Once at the top it required but a moment to  
gather the dangling rope once more into its coils, make  
it fast again at his waist, take a quick glance  
downward within the palisade, and, assured that no one  
lurked directly beneath him, drop softly to the ground.
  
Now he was within the village. Before him stretched a  
series of tents and native huts. The business of  
exploring each of them would be fraught with danger;  
but danger was only a natural factor of each day's  
life--it never appalled Tarzan. The chances appealed  
to him--the chances of life and death, with his prowess  
and his faculties pitted against those of a worthy  
antagonist.
  
It was not necessary that he enter each habitation--  
through a door, a window or an open chink, his nose  
told him whether or not his prey lay within. For some  
time he found one disappointment following upon the  
heels of another in quick succession. No spoor of the  
Belgian was discernible. But at last he came to a tent  
where the smell of the thief was strong. Tarzan  
listened, his ear close to the canvas at the rear, but  
no sound came from within.
  
At last he cut one of the pin ropes, raised the bottom  
of the canvas, and intruded his head within the  
interior. All was quiet and dark. Tarzan crawled  
cautiously within--the scent of the Belgian was strong;  
but it was not live scent. Even before he had examined  
the interior minutely, Tarzan knew that no one was  
within it.
  
In one corner he found a pile of blankets and clothing  
scattered about; but no pouch of pretty pebbles.
A careful examination of the balance of the tent revealed  
nothing more, at least nothing to indicate the presence  
of the jewels; but at the side where the blankets and  
clothing lay, the ape-man discovered that the tent wall  
had been loosened at the bottom, and presently he  
sensed that the Belgian had recently passed out of the  
tent by this avenue.
  
Tarzan was not long in following the way that his prey  
had fled. The spoor led always in the shadow and at  
the rear of the huts and tents of the village--it was  
quite evident to Tarzan that the Belgian had gone alone  
and secretly upon his mission. Evidently he feared the  
inhabitants of the village, or at least his work had  
been of such a nature that he dared not risk detection.
  
At the back of a native hut the spoor led through a  
small hole recently cut in the brush wall and into the  
dark interior beyond. Fearlessly, Tarzan followed the  
trail. On hands and knees, he crawled through the  
small aperture. Within the hut his nostrils were  
assailed by many odors; but clear and distinct among  
them was one that half aroused a latent memory of the  
past--it was the faint and delicate odor of a woman.
With the cognizance of it there rose in the breast of  
the ape-man a strange uneasiness--the result of an  
irresistible force which he was destined to become  
acquainted with anew--the instinct which draws the male  
to his mate.
  
In the same hut was the scent spoor of the Belgian,  
too, and as both these assailed the nostrils of the  
ape-man, mingling one with the other, a jealous rage  
leaped and burned within him, though his memory held  
before the mirror of recollection no image of the she  
to which he had attached his desire.
  
Like the tent he had investigated, the hut, too, was  
empty, and after satisfying himself that his stolen  
pouch was secreted nowhere within, he left, as he had  
entered, by the hole in the rear wall.
  
Here he took up the spoor of the Belgian, followed it  
across the clearing, over the palisade, and out into  
the dark jungle beyond.
  
  
  
15  
  
The Flight of Werper  
  
  
After Werper had arranged the dummy in his bed, and  
sneaked out into the darkness of the village beneath  
the rear wall of his tent, he had gone directly to the  
hut in which Jane Clayton was held captive.
  
Before the doorway squatted a black sentry. Werper  
approached him boldly, spoke a few words in his ear,  
handed him a package of tobacco, and passed into the  
hut. The black grinned and winked as the European  
disappeared within the darkness of the interior.
  
The Belgian, being one of Achmet Zek's principal  
lieutenants, might naturally go where he wished within  
or without the village, and so the sentry had not  
questioned his right to enter the hut with the white,  
woman prisoner.
  
Within, Werper called in French and in a low whisper:
"Lady Greystoke! It is I, M. Frecoult. Where are you?"  
But there was no response. Hastily the man felt around  
the interior, groping blindly through the darkness with  
outstretched hands. There was no one within!
  
Werper's astonishment surpassed words. He was on the  
point of stepping without to question the sentry, when  
his eyes, becoming accustomed to the dark, discovered a  
blotch of lesser blackness near the base of the rear  
wall of the hut. Examination revealed the fact that the  
blotch was an opening cut in the wall. It was large  
enough to permit the passage of his body, and assured  
as he was that Lady Greystoke had passed out through  
the aperture in an attempt to escape the village, he  
lost no time in availing himself of the same avenue;  
but neither did he lose time in a fruitless search for  
Jane Clayton.
  
His own life depended upon the chance of his eluding,  
or outdistancing Achmet Zek, when that worthy should  
have discovered that he had escaped. His original plan  
had contemplated connivance in the escape of Lady  
Greystoke for two very good and sufficient reasons.
The first was that by saving her he would win the  
gratitude of the English, and thus lessen the chance of  
his extradition should his identity and his crime  
against his superior officer be charged against him.
  
The second reason was based upon the fact that only one  
direction of escape was safely open to him. He could  
not travel to the west because of the Belgian  
possessions which lay between him and the Atlantic.
The south was closed to him by the feared presence of  
the savage ape-man he had robbed. To the north lay the  
friends and allies of Achmet Zek. Only toward the  
east, through British East Africa, lay reasonable  
assurance of freedom.
  
Accompanied by a titled Englishwoman whom he had  
rescued from a frightful fate, and his identity vouched  
for by her as that of a Frenchman by the name of  
Frecoult, he had looked forward, and not without  
reason, to the active assistance of the British from  
the moment that he came in contact with their first  
outpost.
  
But now that Lady Greystoke had disappeared, though he  
still looked toward the east for hope, his chances were  
lessened, and another, subsidiary design completely  
dashed. From the moment that he had first laid eyes  
upon Jane Clayton he had nursed within his breast a  
secret passion for the beautiful American wife of the  
English lord, and when Achmet Zek's discovery of the  
jewels had necessitated flight, the Belgian had  
dreamed, in his planning, of a future in which he might  
convince Lady Greystoke that her husband was dead,  
and by playing upon her gratitude win her for himself.
  
At that part of the village farthest from the gates,  
Werper discovered that two or three long poles, taken  
from a nearby pile which had been collected for the  
construction of huts, had been leaned against the top  
of the palisade, forming a precarious, though not  
impossible avenue of escape.
  
Rightly, he inferred that thus had Lady Greystoke found  
the means to scale the wall, nor did he lose even a  
moment in following her lead. Once in the jungle he  
struck out directly eastward.
  
A few miles south of him, Jane Clayton lay panting  
among the branches of a tree in which she had taken  
refuge from a prowling and hungry lioness.
  
Her escape from the village had been much easier than  
she had anticipated. The knife which she had used to  
cut her way through the brush wall of the hut to  
freedom she had found sticking in the wall of her  
prison, doubtless left there by accident when a former  
tenant had vacated the premises.
  
To cross the rear of the village, keeping always in the  
densest shadows, had required but a few moments, and  
the fortunate circumstance of the discovery of the hut  
poles lying so near the palisade had solved for her the  
problem of the passage of the high wall.
  
For an hour she had followed the old game trail toward  
the south, until there fell upon her trained hearing  
the stealthy padding of a stalking beast behind her.
The nearest tree gave her instant sanctuary, for she  
was too wise in the ways of the jungle to chance her  
safety for a moment after discovering that she was  
being hunted.
  
Werper, with better success, traveled slowly onward  
until dawn, when, to his chagrin, he discovered a  
mounted Arab upon his trail. It was one of Achmet  
Zek's minions, many of whom were scattered in all  
directions through the forest, searching for the  
fugitive Belgian.
  
Jane Clayton's escape had not yet been discovered when  
Achmet Zek and his searchers set forth to overhaul  
Werper. The only man who had seen the Belgian after his  
departure from his tent was the black sentry before the  
doorway of Lady Greystoke's prison hut, and he had been  
silenced by the discovery of the dead body of the man  
who had relieved him, the sentry that Mugambi had  
dispatched.
  
The bribe taker naturally inferred that Werper had  
slain his fellow and dared not admit that he had  
permitted him to enter the hut, fearing as he did,  
the anger of Achmet Zek. So, as chance directed that he  
should be the one to discover the body of the sentry  
when the first alarm had been given following Achmet  
Zek's discovery that Werper had outwitted him, the  
crafty black had dragged the dead body to the interior  
of a nearby tent, and himself resumed his station  
before the doorway of the hut in which he still  
believed the woman to be.
  
With the discovery of the Arab close behind him, the  
Belgian hid in the foliage of a leafy bush. Here the  
trail ran straight for a considerable distance, and  
down the shady forest aisle, beneath the overarching  
branches of the trees, rode the white-robed figure of  
the pursuer.
  
Nearer and nearer he came. Werper crouched closer to  
the ground behind the leaves of his hiding place.
Across the trail a vine moved. Werper's eyes instantly  
centered upon the spot. There was no wind to stir the  
foliage in the depths of the jungle. Again the vine  
moved. In the mind of the Belgian only the presence of  
a sinister and malevolent force could account for the  
phenomenon.
  
The man's eyes bored steadily into the screen of leaves  
upon the opposite side of the trail. Gradually a form  
took shape beyond them--a tawny form, grim and  
terrible, with yellow-green eyes glaring fearsomely  
across the narrow trail straight into his.
  
Werper could have screamed in fright, but up the trail  
was coming the messenger of another death, equally sure  
and no less terrible. He remained silent, almost  
paralyzed by fear. The Arab approached. Across the  
trail from Werper the lion crouched for the spring,  
when suddenly his attention was attracted toward the  
horseman.
  
The Belgian saw the massive head turn in the direction  
of the raider and his heart all but ceased its beating  
as he awaited the result of this interruption. At a  
walk the horseman approached. Would the nervous animal  
he rode take fright at the odor of the carnivore, and,  
bolting, leave Werper still to the mercies of the king  
of beasts?
  
But he seemed unmindful of the near presence of the  
great cat. On he came, his neck arched, champing at  
the bit between his teeth. The Belgian turned his eyes  
again toward the lion. The beast's whole attention now  
seemed riveted upon the horseman. They were abreast  
the lion now, and still the brute did not spring.
Could he be but waiting for them to pass before  
returning his attention to the original prey? Werper  
shuddered and half rose. At the same instant the lion  
sprang from his place of concealment, full upon the  
mounted man. The horse, with a shrill neigh of terror,  
shrank sideways almost upon the Belgian, the lion  
dragged the helpless Arab from his saddle, and the  
horse leaped back into the trail and fled away toward  
the west.
  
But he did not flee alone. As the frightened beast had  
pressed in upon him, Werper had not been slow to note  
the quickly emptied saddle and the opportunity it  
presented. Scarcely had the lion dragged the Arab down  
from one side, than the Belgian, seizing the pommel of  
the saddle and the horse's mane, leaped upon the  
horse's back from the other.
  
A half hour later a naked giant, swinging easily  
through the lower branches of the trees, paused, and  
with raised head, and dilating nostrils sniffed the  
morning air. The smell of blood fell strong upon his  
senses, and mingled with it was the scent of Numa, the  
lion. The giant cocked his head upon one side and  
listened.
  
From a short distance up the trail came the  
unmistakable noises of the greedy feeding of a lion.
The crunching of bones, the gulping of great pieces,  
the contented growling, all attested the nearness of  
the king at table.
  
Tarzan approached the spot, still keeping to the  
branches of the trees. He made no effort to conceal  
his approach, and presently he had evidence that Numa  
had heard him, from the ominous, rumbling warning that  
broke from a thicket beside the trail.
  
Halting upon a low branch just above the lion Tarzan  
looked down upon the grisly scene. Could this  
unrecognizable thing be the man he had been trailing?
The ape-man wondered. From time to time he had  
descended to the trail and verified his judgment by the  
evidence of his scent that the Belgian had followed  
this game trail toward the east.
  
Now he proceeded beyond the lion and his feast,  
again descended and examined the ground with his nose.
There was no scent spoor here of the man he had been  
trailing. Tarzan returned to the tree. With keen eyes  
he searched the ground about the mutilated corpse for a  
sign of the missing pouch of pretty pebbles; but naught  
could he see of it.
  
He scolded Numa and tried to drive the great beast  
away; but only angry growls rewarded his efforts.
He tore small branches from a nearby limb and hurled them  
at his ancient enemy. Numa looked up with bared fangs,  
grinning hideously, but he did not rise from his kill.
  
Then Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow, and drawing the  
slim shaft far back let drive with all the force of the  
tough wood that only he could bend. As the arrow sank  
deeply into his side, Numa leaped to his feet with a  
roar of mingled rage and pain. He leaped futilely at  
the grinning ape-man, tore at the protruding end of the  
shaft, and then, springing into the trail, paced back  
and forth beneath his tormentor. Again Tarzan loosed a  
swift bolt. This time the missile, aimed with care,  
lodged in the lion's spine. The great creature halted  
in its tracks, and lurched awkwardly forward upon its  
face, paralyzed.
  
Tarzan dropped to the trail, ran quickly to the beast's  
side, and drove his spear deep into the fierce heart,  
then after recovering his arrows turned his attention  
to the mutilated remains of the animal's prey in the  
nearby thicket.
  
The face was gone. The Arab garments aroused no doubt  
as to the man's identity, since he had trailed him into  
the Arab camp and out again, where he might easily have  
acquired the apparel. So sure was Tarzan that the body  
was that of he who had robbed him that he made no  
effort to verify his deductions by scent among the  
conglomerate odors of the great carnivore and the fresh  
blood of the victim.
  
He confined his attentions to a careful search for the  
pouch, but nowhere upon or about the corpse was any  
sign of the missing article or its contents. The ape-man  
was disappointed--possibly not so much because of  
the loss of the colored pebbles as with Numa for  
robbing him of the pleasures of revenge.
  
Wondering what could have become of his possessions,  
the ape-man turned slowly back along the trail in the  
direction from which he had come. In his mind he  
revolved a plan to enter and search the Arab camp,  
after darkness had again fallen. Taking to the trees,  
he moved directly south in search of prey, that he  
might satisfy his hunger before midday, and then lie up  
for the afternoon in some spot far from the camp, where  
he might sleep without fear of discovery until it came  
time to prosecute his design.
  
Scarcely had he quitted the trail when a tall, black  
warrior, moving at a dogged trot, passed toward the  
east. It was Mugambi, searching for his mistress.
He continued along the trail, halting to examine the body  
of the dead lion. An expression of puzzlement crossed  
his features as he bent to search for the wounds which  
had caused the death of the jungle lord. Tarzan had  
removed his arrows, but to Mugambi the proof of death  
was as strong as though both the lighter missiles and  
the spear still protruded from the carcass.
  
The black looked furtively about him. The body was  
still warm, and from this fact he reasoned that the  
killer was close at hand, yet no sign of living man  
appeared. Mugambi shook his head, and continued along  
the trail, but with redoubled caution.
  
All day he traveled, stopping occasionally to call  
aloud the single word, "Lady," in the hope that at last  
she might hear and respond; but in the end his loyal  
devotion brought him to disaster.
  
From the northeast, for several months, Abdul Mourak,  
in command of a detachment of Abyssinian soldiers, had  
been assiduously searching for the Arab raider, Achmet  
Zek, who, six months previously, had affronted the  
majesty of Abdul Mourak's emperor by conducting a slave  
raid within the boundaries of Menelek's domain.
  
And now it happened that Abdul Mourak had halted for a  
short rest at noon upon this very day and along the  
same trail that Werper and Mugambi were following  
toward the east.
  
It was shortly after the soldiers had dismounted that  
the Belgian, unaware of their presence, rode his tired  
mount almost into their midst, before he had discovered  
them. Instantly he was surrounded, and a volley of  
questions hurled at him, as he was pulled from his  
horse and led toward the presence of the commander.
  
Falling back upon his European nationality, Werper  
assured Abdul Mourak that he was a Frenchman, hunting  
in Africa, and that he had been attacked by strangers,  
his safari killed or scattered, and himself escaping  
only by a miracle.
  
From a chance remark of the Abyssinian, Werper  
discovered the purpose of the expedition, and when he  
realized that these men were the enemies of Achmet Zek,  
he took heart, and immediately blamed his predicament  
upon the Arab.
  
Lest, however, he might again fall into the hands of  
the raider, he discouraged Abdul Mourak in the further  
prosecution of his pursuit, assuring the Abyssinian  
that Achmet Zek commanded a large and dangerous force,  
and also that he was marching rapidly toward the south.
  
Convinced that it would take a long time to overhaul  
the raider, and that the chances of engagement made the  
outcome extremely questionable, Mourak, none too  
unwillingly, abandoned his plan and gave the necessary  
orders for his command to pitch camp where they were,  
preparatory to taking up the return march toward  
Abyssinia the following morning.
  
It was late in the afternoon that the attention of the  
camp was attracted toward the west by the sound of a  
powerful voice calling a single word, repeated several  
times: "Lady! Lady! Lady!"  
  
True to their instincts of precaution, a number of  
Abyssinians, acting under orders from Abdul Mourak,  
advanced stealthily through the jungle toward the  
author of the call.
  
A half hour later they returned, dragging Mugambi among  
them. The first person the big black's eyes fell upon  
as he was hustled into the presence of the Abyssinian  
officer, was M. Jules Frecoult, the Frenchman who had  
been the guest of his master and whom he last had seen  
entering the village of Achmet Zek under circumstances  
which pointed to his familiarity and friendship for the  
raiders.
  
Between the disasters that had befallen his master and  
his master's house, and the Frenchman, Mugambi saw a  
sinister relationship, which kept him from recalling to  
Werper's attention the identity which the latter  
evidently failed to recognize.
  
Pleading that he was but a harmless hunter from a tribe  
farther south, Mugambi begged to be allowed to go upon  
his way; but Abdul Mourak, admiring the warrior's  
splendid physique, decided to take him back to Adis  
Abeba and present him to Menelek. A few moments later  
Mugambi and Werper were marched away under guard, and  
the Belgian learned for the first time, that he too was  
a prisoner rather than a guest. In vain he protested  
against such treatment, until a strapping soldier  
struck him across the mouth and threatened to shoot him  
if he did not desist.
  
Mugambi took the matter less to heart, for he had not  
the slightest doubt but that during the course of the  
journey he would find ample opportunity to elude the  
vigilance of his guards and make good his escape.
With this idea always uppermost in his mind, he courted  
the good opinion of the Abyssinians, asked them many  
questions about their emperor and their country, and  
evinced a growing desire to reach their destination,  
that he might enjoy all the good things which they  
assured him the city of Adis Abeba contained. Thus he  
disarmed their suspicions, and each day found a slight  
relaxation of their watchfulness over him.
  
By taking advantage of the fact that he and Werper  
always were kept together, Mugambi sought to learn what  
the other knew of the whereabouts of Tarzan, or the  
authorship of the raid upon the bungalow, as well as  
the fate of Lady Greystoke; but as he was confined to  
the accidents of conversation for this information, not  
daring to acquaint Werper with his true identity, and  
as Werper was equally anxious to conceal from the world  
his part in the destruction of his host's home and  
happiness, Mugambi learned nothing--at least in this way.
  
But there came a time when he learned a very surprising  
thing, by accident.
  
The party had camped early in the afternoon of a sultry  
day, upon the banks of a clear and beautiful stream.
The bottom of the river was gravelly, there was no  
indication of crocodiles, those menaces to promiscuous  
bathing in the rivers of certain portions of the dark  
continent, and so the Abyssinians took advantage of the  
opportunity to perform long-deferred, and much needed,  
ablutions.
  
As Werper, who, with Mugambi, had been given permission  
to enter the water, removed his clothing, the black  
noted the care with which he unfastened something which  
circled his waist, and which he took off with his  
shirt, keeping the latter always around and concealing  
the object of his suspicious solicitude.
  
It was this very carefulness which attracted the  
black's attention to the thing, arousing a natural  
curiosity in the warrior's mind, and so it chanced that  
when the Belgian, in the nervousness of overcaution,  
fumbled the hidden article and dropped it, Mugambi saw  
it as it fell upon the ground, spilling a portion of  
its contents on the sward.
  
Now Mugambi had been to London with his master.
He was not the unsophisticated savage that his apparel  
proclaimed him. He had mingled with the cosmopolitan  
hordes of the greatest city in the world; he had  
visited museums and inspected shop windows; and,  
besides, he was a shrewd and intelligent man.
  
The instant that the jewels of Opar rolled,  
scintillating, before his astonished eyes, he  
recognized them for what they were; but he recognized  
something else, too, that interested him far more  
deeply than the value of the stones. A thousand times  
he had seen the leathern pouch which dangled at his  
master's side, when Tarzan of the Apes had, in a spirit  
of play and adventure, elected to return for a few  
hours to the primitive manners and customs of his  
boyhood, and surrounded by his naked warriors hunt the  
lion and the leopard, the buffalo and the elephant  
after the manner he loved best.
  
Werper saw that Mugambi had seen the pouch and the  
stones. Hastily he gathered up the precious gems and  
returned them to their container, while Mugambi,  
assuming an air of indifference, strolled down to the  
river for his bath.
  
The following morning Abdul Mourak was enraged and  
chagrined to discover that this huge, black prisoner  
had escaped during the night, while Werper was  
terrified for the same reason, until his trembling  
fingers discovered the pouch still in its place beneath  
his shirt, and within it the hard outlines of its  
contents.
  
  
  
16  
  
Tarzan Again Leads the Mangani  
  
  
Achmet Zek with two of his followers had circled far to  
the south to intercept the flight of his deserting  
lieutenant, Werper. Others had spread out in various  
directions, so that a vast circle had been formed by  
them during the night, and now they were beating in  
toward the center.
  
Achmet and the two with him halted for a short rest  
just before noon. They squatted beneath the trees upon  
the southern edge of a clearing. The chief of the  
raiders was in ill humor. To have been outwitted by an  
unbeliever was bad enough; but to have, at the same  
time, lost the jewels upon which he had set his  
avaricious heart was altogether too much--Allah must,  
indeed be angry with his servant.
  
Well, he still had the woman. She would bring a fair  
price in the north, and there was, too, the buried  
treasure beside the ruins of the Englishman's house.
  
A slight noise in the jungle upon the opposite side of  
the clearing brought Achmet Zek to immediate and alert  
attention. He gathered his rifle in readiness for  
instant use, at the same time motioning his followers  
to silence and concealment. Crouching behind the  
bushes the three waited, their eyes fastened upon the  
far side of the open space.
  
Presently the foliage parted and a woman's face  
appeared, glancing fearfully from side to side.
A moment later, evidently satisfied that no immediate  
danger lurked before her, she stepped out into the  
clearing in full view of the Arab.
  
Achmet Zek caught his breath with a muttered  
exclamation of incredulity and an imprecation.
The woman was the prisoner he had thought safely guarded  
at his camp!
  
Apparently she was alone, but Achmet Zek waited that he  
might make sure of it before seizing her. Slowly Jane  
Clayton started across the clearing. Twice already  
since she had quitted the village of the raiders had  
she barely escaped the fangs of carnivora, and once she  
had almost stumbled into the path of one of the  
searchers. Though she was almost despairing of ever  
reaching safety she still was determined to fight on,  
until death or success terminated her endeavors.
  
As the Arabs watched her from the safety of their  
concealment, and Achmet Zek noted with satisfaction  
that she was walking directly into his clutches,  
another pair of eyes looked down upon the entire scene  
from the foliage of an adjacent tree.
  
Puzzled, troubled eyes they were, for all their gray  
and savage glint, for their owner was struggling with  
an intangible suggestion of the familiarity of the face  
and figure of the woman below him.
  
A sudden crashing of the bushes at the point from which  
Jane Clayton had emerged into the clearing brought her  
to a sudden stop and attracted the attention of the  
Arabs and the watcher in the tree to the same point.
  
The woman wheeled about to see what new danger menaced  
her from behind, and as she did so a great, anthropoid  
ape waddled into view. Behind him came another and  
another; but Lady Greystoke did not wait to learn how  
many more of the hideous creatures were so close upon  
her trail.
  
With a smothered scream she rushed toward the opposite  
jungle, and as she reached the bushes there, Achmet Zek  
and his two henchmen rose up and seized her. At the  
same instant a naked, brown giant dropped from the  
branches of a tree at the right of the clearing.
  
Turning toward the astonished apes he gave voice to a  
short volley of low gutturals, and without waiting to  
note the effect of his words upon them, wheeled and  
charged for the Arabs.
  
Achmet Zek was dragging Jane Clayton toward his  
tethered horse. His two men were hastily unfastening  
all three mounts. The woman, struggling to escape the  
Arab, turned and saw the ape-man running toward her.
A glad light of hope illuminated her face.
  
"John!" she cried. "Thank God that you have come in time."  
  
Behind Tarzan came the great apes, wondering, but  
obedient to his summons. The Arabs saw that they would  
not have time to mount and make their escape before the  
beasts and the man were upon them. Achmet Zek  
recognized the latter as the redoubtable enemy of such  
as he, and he saw, too, in the circumstance an  
opportunity to rid himself forever of the menace of the  
ape-man's presence.
  
Calling to his men to follow his example he raised his  
rifle and leveled it upon the charging giant. His  
followers, acting with no less alacrity than himself,  
fired almost simultaneously, and with the reports of  
the rifles, Tarzan of the Apes and two of his hairy  
henchmen pitched forward among the jungle grasses.
  
The noise of the rifle shots brought the balance of the  
apes to a wondering pause, and, taking advantage of  
their momentary distraction, Achmet Zek and his fellows  
leaped to their horses' backs and galloped away with  
the now hopeless and grief-stricken woman.
  
Back to the village they rode, and once again Lady  
Greystoke found herself incarcerated in the filthy,  
little hut from which she had thought to have escaped  
for good. But this time she was not only guarded by an  
additional sentry, but bound as well.
  
Singly and in twos the searchers who had ridden out  
with Achmet Zek upon the trail of the Belgian, returned  
empty handed. With the report of each the raider's  
rage and chagrin increased, until he was in such a  
transport of ferocious anger that none dared approach  
him. Threatening and cursing, Achmet Zek paced up and  
down the floor of his silken tent; but his temper  
served him naught--Werper was gone and with him the  
fortune in scintillating gems which had aroused the  
cupidity of his chief and placed the sentence of death  
upon the head of the lieutenant.
  
With the escape of the Arabs the great apes had turned  
their attention to their fallen comrades. One was  
dead, but another and the great white ape still  
breathed. The hairy monsters gathered about these two,  
grumbling and muttering after the fashion of their kind.
  
Tarzan was the first to regain consciousness. Sitting  
up, he looked about him. Blood was flowing from a  
wound in his shoulder. The shock had thrown him down  
and dazed him; but he was far from dead. Rising slowly  
to his feet he let his eyes wander toward the spot  
where last he had seen the she, who had aroused within  
his savage breast such strange emotions.
  
"Where is she?" he asked.
  
"The Tarmangani took her away," replied one of the apes.
"Who are you who speak the language of the Mangani?"  
  
"I am Tarzan," replied the ape-man; "mighty hunter,  
greatest of fighters. When I roar, the jungle is  
silent and trembles with terror. I am Tarzan of the  
Apes. I have been away; but now I have come back to my  
people."  
  
"Yes," spoke up an old ape, "he is Tarzan. I know him.
It is well that he has come back. Now we shall have  
good hunting."  
  
The other apes came closer and sniffed at the ape-man.
Tarzan stood very still, his fangs half bared, and his  
muscles tense and ready for action; but there was none  
there to question his right to be with them, and  
presently, the inspection satisfactorily concluded, the  
apes again returned their attention to the other survivor.
  
He too was but slightly wounded, a bullet, grazing his  
skull, having stunned him, so that when he regained  
consciousness he was apparently as fit as ever.
  
The apes told Tarzan that they had been traveling  
toward the east when the scent spoor of the she had  
attracted them and they had stalked her. Now they  
wished to continue upon their interrupted march; but  
Tarzan preferred to follow the Arabs and take the woman  
from them. After a considerable argument it was  
decided that they should first hunt toward the east for  
a few days and then return and search for the Arabs,  
and as time is of little moment to the ape folk, Tarzan  
acceded to their demands, he, himself, having reverted  
to a mental state but little superior to their own.
  
Another circumstance which decided him to postpone  
pursuit of the Arabs was the painfulness of his wound.
It would be better to wait until that had healed before  
he pitted himself again against the guns of the  
Tarmangani.
  
And so, as Jane Clayton was pushed into her prison hut  
and her hands and feet securely bound, her natural  
protector roamed off toward the east in company with a  
score of hairy monsters, with whom he rubbed shoulders  
as familiarly as a few months before he had mingled  
with his immaculate fellow-members of one of London's  
most select and exclusive clubs.
  
But all the time there lurked in the back of his  
injured brain a troublesome conviction that he had no  
business where he was--that he should be, for some  
unaccountable reason, elsewhere and among another sort  
of creature. Also, there was the compelling urge to be  
upon the scent of the Arabs, undertaking the rescue of  
the woman who had appealed so strongly to his savage  
sentiments; though the thought-word which naturally  
occurred to him in the contemplation of the venture,  
was "capture," rather than "rescue."  
  
To him she was as any other jungle she, and he had set  
his heart upon her as his mate. For an instant, as he  
had approached closer to her in the clearing where the  
Arabs had seized her, the subtle aroma which had first  
aroused his desires in the hut that had imprisoned her  
had fallen upon his nostrils, and told him that he had  
found the creature for whom he had developed so sudden  
and inexplicable a passion.
  
The matter of the pouch of jewels also occupied his  
thoughts to some extent, so that he found a double urge  
for his return to the camp of the raiders. He would  
obtain possession of both his pretty pebbles and the  
she. Then he would return to the great apes with his  
new mate and his baubles, and leading his hairy  
companions into a far wilderness beyond the ken of man,  
live out his life, hunting and battling among the lower  
orders after the only manner which he now recollected.
  
He spoke to his fellow-apes upon the matter, in an  
attempt to persuade them to accompany him; but all  
except Taglat and Chulk refused. The latter was young  
and strong, endowed with a greater intelligence than  
his fellows, and therefore the possessor of better  
developed powers of imagination. To him the expedition  
savored of adventure, and so appealed, strongly. With  
Taglat there was another incentive--a secret and  
sinister incentive, which, had Tarzan of the Apes had  
knowledge of it, would have sent him at the other's  
throat in jealous rage.
  
Taglat was no longer young; but he was still a  
formidable beast, mightily muscled, cruel, and,  
because of his greater experience, crafty and cunning.
Too, he was of giant proportions, the very weight of his  
huge bulk serving ofttimes to discount in his favor the  
superior agility of a younger antagonist.
  
He was of a morose and sullen disposition that marked  
him even among his frowning fellows, where such  
characteristics are the rule rather than the exception,  
and, though Tarzan did not guess it, he hated the ape-man  
with a ferocity that he was able to hide only  
because the dominant spirit of the nobler creature had  
inspired within him a species of dread which was as  
powerful as it was inexplicable to him.
  
These two, then, were to be Tarzan's companions upon  
his return to the village of Achmet Zek. As they set  
off, the balance of the tribe vouchsafed them but a  
parting stare, and then resumed the serious business of  
feeding.
  
Tarzan found difficulty in keeping the minds of his  
fellows set upon the purpose of their adventure, for  
the mind of an ape lacks the power of long-sustained  
concentration. To set out upon a long journey, with a  
definite destination in view, is one thing, to remember  
that purpose and keep it uppermost in one's mind  
continually is quite another. There are so many things  
to distract one's attention along the way.
  
Chulk was, at first, for rushing rapidly ahead as  
though the village of the raiders lay but an hour's  
march before them instead of several days; but within a  
few minutes a fallen tree attracted his attention with  
its suggestion of rich and succulent forage beneath,  
and when Tarzan, missing him, returned in search, he  
found Chulk squatting beside the rotting bole, from  
beneath which he was assiduously engaged in digging out  
the grubs and beetles, whose kind form a considerable  
proportion of the diet of the apes.
  
Unless Tarzan desired to fight there was nothing to  
do but wait until Chulk had exhausted the storehouse,  
and this he did, only to discover that Taglat was now  
missing. After a considerable search, he found that  
worthy gentleman contemplating the sufferings of an  
injured rodent he had pounced upon. He would sit in  
apparent indifference, gazing in another direction,  
while the crippled creature, wriggled slowly and  
painfully away from him, and then, just as his victim  
felt assured of escape, he would reach out a giant palm  
and slam it down upon the fugitive. Again and again he  
repeated this operation, until, tiring of the sport, he  
ended the sufferings of his plaything by devouring it.
  
Such were the exasperating causes of delay which  
retarded Tarzan's return journey toward the village of  
Achmet Zek; but the ape-man was patient, for in his  
mind was a plan which necessitated the presence of  
Chulk and Taglat when he should have arrived at his  
destination.
  
It was not always an easy thing to maintain in the  
vacillating minds of the anthropoids a sustained  
interest in their venture. Chulk was wearying of the  
continued marching and the infrequency and short  
duration of the rests. He would gladly have abandoned  
this search for adventure had not Tarzan continually  
filled his mind with alluring pictures of the great  
stores of food which were to be found in the village of  
Tarmangani.
  
Taglat nursed his secret purpose to better advantage  
than might have been expected of an ape, yet there were  
times when he, too, would have abandoned the adventure  
had not Tarzan cajoled him on.
  
It was mid-afternoon of a sultry, tropical day when the  
keen senses of the three warned them of the proximity  
of the Arab camp. Stealthily they approached, keeping  
to the dense tangle of growing things which made  
concealment easy to their uncanny jungle craft.
  
First came the giant ape-man, his smooth, brown skin  
glistening with the sweat of exertion in the close, hot  
confines of the jungle. Behind him crept Chulk and  
Taglat, grotesque and shaggy caricatures of their  
godlike leader.
  
Silently they made their way to the edge of the  
clearing which surrounded the palisade, and here they  
clambered into the lower branches of a large tree  
overlooking the village occupied by the enemy, the  
better to spy upon his goings and comings.
  
A horseman, white burnoosed, rode out through the  
gateway of the village. Tarzan, whispering to Chulk  
and Taglat to remain where they were, swung, monkey-like,  
through the trees in the direction of the trail  
the Arab was riding. From one jungle giant to the next  
he sped with the rapidity of a squirrel and the silence  
of a ghost.
  
The Arab rode slowly onward, unconscious of the danger  
hovering in the trees behind him. The ape-man made a  
slight detour and increased his speed until he had  
reached a point upon the trail in advance of the  
horseman. Here he halted upon a leafy bough which  
overhung the narrow, jungle trail. On came the victim,  
humming a wild air of the great desert land of the  
north. Above him poised the savage brute that was  
today bent upon the destruction of a human life--the  
same creature who a few months before, had occupied his  
seat in the House of Lords at London, a respected and  
distinguished member of that august body.
  
The Arab passed beneath the overhanging bough, there  
was a slight rustling of the leaves above, the horse  
snorted and plunged as a brown-skinned creature dropped  
upon its rump. A pair of mighty arms encircled the  
Arab and he was dragged from his saddle to the trail.
  
Ten minutes later the ape-man, carrying the outer  
garments of an Arab bundled beneath an arm, rejoined  
his companions. He exhibited his trophies to them,  
explaining in low gutturals the details of his exploit.
Chulk and Taglat fingered the fabrics, smelled of them,  
and, placing them to their ears, tried to listen to them.
  
Then Tarzan led them back through the jungle to the  
trail, where the three hid themselves and waited.
Nor had they long to wait before two of Achmet Zek's  
blacks, clothed in habiliments similar to their master's,  
came down the trail on foot, returning to the camp.
  
One moment they were laughing and talking together--the  
next they lay stretched in death upon the trail, three  
mighty engines of destruction bending over them.
Tarzan removed their outer garments as he had removed  
those of his first victim, and again retired with Chulk  
and Taglat to the greater seclusion of the tree they  
had first selected.
  
Here the ape-man arranged the garments upon his shaggy  
fellows and himself, until, at a distance, it might  
have appeared that three white-robed Arabs squatted  
silently among the branches of the forest.
  
Until dark they remained where they were, for from his  
point of vantage, Tarzan could view the enclosure  
within the palisade. He marked the position of the hut  
in which he had first discovered the scent spoor of the  
she he sought. He saw the two sentries standing before  
its doorway, and he located the habitation of Achmet  
Zek, where something told him he would most likely find  
the missing pouch and pebbles.
  
Chulk and Taglat were, at first, greatly interested in  
their wonderful raiment. They fingered the fabric,  
smelled of it, and regarded each other intently with  
every mark of satisfaction and pride. Chulk, a  
humorist in his way, stretched forth a long and hairy  
arm, and grasping the hood of Taglat's burnoose pulled  
it down over the latter's eyes, extinguishing him,  
snuffer-like, as it were.
  
The older ape, pessimistic by nature, recognized no  
such thing as humor. Creatures laid their paws upon  
him for but two things--to search for fleas and to  
attack. The pulling of the Tarmangani-scented thing  
about his head and eyes could not be for the  
performance of the former act; therefore it must be the  
latter. He was attacked! Chulk had attacked him.
  
With a snarl he was at the other's throat, not even  
waiting to lift the woolen veil which obscured his  
vision. Tarzan leaped upon the two, and swaying and  
toppling upon their insecure perch the three great  
beasts tussled and snapped at one another until the  
ape-man finally succeeded in separating the enraged  
anthropoids.
  
An apology is unknown to these savage progenitors of  
man, and explanation a laborious and usually futile  
process, Tarzan bridged the dangerous gulf by  
distracting their attention from their altercation to a  
consideration of their plans for the immediate future.
Accustomed to frequent arguments in which more hair  
than blood is wasted, the apes speedily forget such  
trivial encounters, and presently Chulk and Taglat were  
again squatting in close proximity to each other and  
peaceful repose, awaiting the moment when the ape-man  
should lead them into the village of the Tarmangani.
  
It was long after darkness had fallen, that Tarzan led  
his companions from their hiding place in the tree to  
the ground and around the palisade to the far side of  
the village.
  
Gathering the skirts of his burnoose, beneath one arm,  
that his legs might have free action, the ape-man took  
a short running start, and scrambled to the top of the  
barrier. Fearing lest the apes should rend their  
garments to shreds in a similar attempt, he had  
directed them to wait below for him, and himself  
securely perched upon the summit of the palisade he  
unslung his spear and lowered one end of it to Chulk.
  
The ape seized it, and while Tarzan held tightly to the  
upper end, the anthropoid climbed quickly up the shaft  
until with one paw he grasped the top of the wall.
To scramble then to Tarzan's side was the work of but an  
instant. In like manner Taglat was conducted to their  
sides, and a moment later the three dropped silently  
within the enclosure.
  
Tarzan led them first to the rear of the hut in which  
Jane Clayton was confined, where, through the roughly  
repaired aperture in the wall, he sought with his  
sensitive nostrils for proof that the she he had come  
for was within.
  
Chulk and Taglat, their hairy faces pressed close to  
that of the patrician, sniffed with him. Each caught  
the scent spoor of the woman within, and each reacted  
according to his temperament and his habits of thought.
  
It left Chulk indifferent. The she was for Tarzan--all  
that he desired was to bury his snout in the foodstuffs  
of the Tarmangani. He had come to eat his fill without  
labor--Tarzan had told him that that should be his  
reward, and he was satisfied.
  
But Taglat's wicked, bloodshot eyes, narrowed to the  
realization of the nearing fulfillment of his carefully  
nursed plan. It is true that sometimes during the  
several days that had elapsed since they had set out  
upon their expedition it had been difficult for Taglat  
to hold his idea uppermost in his mind, and on several  
occasions he had completely forgotten it, until Tarzan,  
by a chance word, had recalled it to him, but, for an  
ape, Taglat had done well.
  
Now, he licked his chops, and he made a sickening,  
sucking noise with his flabby lips as he drew in his breath.
  
Satisfied that the she was where he had hoped to find  
her, Tarzan led his apes toward the tent of Achmet Zek.
A passing Arab and two slaves saw them, but the night  
was dark and the white burnooses hid the hairy limbs of  
the apes and the giant figure of their leader, so that  
the three, by squatting down as though in conversation,  
were passed by, unsuspected. To the rear of the tent  
they made their way. Within, Achmet Zek conversed with  
several of his lieutenants. Without, Tarzan listened.
  
  
  
17  
  
The Deadly Peril of Jane Clayton  
  
  
Lieutenant Albert Werper, terrified by contemplation of  
the fate which might await him at Adis Abeba, cast  
about for some scheme of escape, but after the black  
Mugambi had eluded their vigilance the Abyssinians  
redoubled their precautions to prevent Werper following  
the lead of the Negro.
  
For some time Werper entertained the idea of bribing  
Abdul Mourak with a portion of the contents of the  
pouch; but fearing that the man would demand all the  
gems as the price of liberty, the Belgian, influenced  
by avarice, sought another avenue from his dilemma.
  
It was then that there dawned upon him the possibility  
of the success of a different course which would still  
leave him in possession of the jewels, while at the  
same time satisfying the greed of the Abyssinian with  
the conviction that he had obtained all that Werper had  
to offer.
  
And so it was that a day or so after Mugambi had  
disappeared, Werper asked for an audience with Abdul  
Mourak. As the Belgian entered the presence of his  
captor the scowl upon the features of the latter boded  
ill for any hope which Werper might entertain, still he  
fortified himself by recalling the common weakness of  
mankind, which permits the most inflexible of natures  
to bend to the consuming desire for wealth.
  
Abdul Mourak eyed him, frowningly. "What do you want  
now?" he asked.
  
"My liberty," replied Werper.
  
The Abyssinian sneered. "And you disturbed me thus to  
tell me what any fool might know," he said.
  
"I can pay for it," said Werper.
  
Abdul Mourak laughed loudly. "Pay for it?" he cried.
"What with--the rags that you have upon your back?
Or, perhaps you are concealing beneath your coat a thousand  
pounds of ivory. Get out! You are a fool. Do not  
bother me again or I shall have you whipped."  
  
But Werper persisted. His liberty and perhaps his life  
depended upon his success.
  
"Listen to me," he pleaded. "If I can give you as much  
gold as ten men may carry will you promise that I shall  
be conducted in safety to the nearest English  
commissioner?"  
  
"As much gold as ten men may carry!" repeated Abdul  
Mourak. "You are crazy. Where have you so much gold  
as that?"  
  
"I know where it is hid," said Werper. "Promise, and I  
will lead you to it--if ten loads is enough?"  
  
Abdul Mourak had ceased to laugh. He was eyeing the  
Belgian intently. The fellow seemed sane enough--yet  
ten loads of gold! It was preposterous. The Abyssinian  
thought in silence for a moment.
  
"Well, and if I promise," he said. "How far is this gold?"  
  
"A long week's march to the south," replied Werper.
  
"And if we do not find it where you say it is, do you  
realize what your punishment will be?"  
  
"If it is not there I will forfeit my life," replied  
the Belgian. "I know it is there, for I saw it buried  
with my own eyes. And more--there are not only ten  
loads, but as many as fifty men may carry. It is all  
yours if you will promise to see me safely delivered  
into the protection of the English."  
  
"You will stake your life against the finding of the  
gold?" asked Abdul.
  
Werper assented with a nod.
  
"Very well," said the Abyssinian, "I promise, and even  
if there be but five loads you shall have your freedom;  
but until the gold is in my possession you remain a  
prisoner."  
  
"I am satisfied," said Werper. "Tomorrow we start?"  
  
Abdul Mourak nodded, and the Belgian returned to his  
guards. The following day the Abyssinian soldiers were  
surprised to receive an order which turned their faces  
from the northeast to the south. And so it happened  
that upon the very night that Tarzan and the two apes  
entered the village of the raiders, the Abyssinians  
camped but a few miles to the east of the same spot.
  
While Werper dreamed of freedom and the unmolested  
enjoyment of the fortune in his stolen pouch, and Abdul  
Mourak lay awake in greedy contemplation of the fifty  
loads of gold which lay but a few days farther to the  
south of him, Achmet Zek gave orders to his lieutenants  
that they should prepare a force of fighting men and  
carriers to proceed to the ruins of the Englishman's  
DOUAR on the morrow and bring back the fabulous  
fortune which his renegade lieutenant had told him was  
buried there.
  
And as he delivered his instructions to those within, a  
silent listener crouched without his tent, waiting for  
the time when he might enter in safety and prosecute  
his search for the missing pouch and the pretty pebbles  
that had caught his fancy.
  
At last the swarthy companions of Achmet Zek quitted  
his tent, and the leader went with them to smoke a pipe  
with one of their number, leaving his own silken  
habitation unguarded. Scarcely had they left the  
interior when a knife blade was thrust through the  
fabric of the rear wall, some six feet above the  
ground, and a swift downward stroke opened an entrance  
to those who waited beyond.
  
Through the opening stepped the ape-man, and close  
behind him came the huge Chulk; but Taglat did not  
follow them. Instead he turned and slunk through the  
darkness toward the hut where the she who had arrested  
his brutish interest lay securely bound. Before the  
doorway the sentries sat upon their haunches,  
conversing in monotones. Within, the young woman lay  
upon a filthy sleeping mat, resigned, through utter  
hopelessness to whatever fate lay in store for her  
until the opportunity arrived which would permit her to  
free herself by the only means which now seemed even  
remotely possible--the hitherto detested act of  
self-destruction.
  
Creeping silently toward the sentries, a white-burnoosed  
figure approached the shadows at one end of the hut.
The meager intellect of the creature denied  
it the advantage it might have taken of its disguise.
Where it could have walked boldly to the very sides of  
the sentries, it chose rather to sneak upon them,  
unseen, from the rear.
  
It came to the corner of the hut and peered around.
The sentries were but a few paces away; but the ape did  
not dare expose himself, even for an instant, to those  
feared and hated thunder-sticks which the Tarmangani  
knew so well how to use, if there were another and  
safer method of attack.
  
Taglat wished that there was a tree nearby from the  
over-hanging branches of which he might spring upon his  
unsuspecting prey; but, though there was no tree, the  
idea gave birth to a plan. The eaves of the hut were  
just above the heads of the sentries--from them he  
could leap upon the Tarmangani, unseen. A quick snap  
of those mighty jaws would dispose of one of them  
before the other realized that they were attacked,  
and the second would fall an easy prey to the strength,  
agility and ferocity of a second quick charge.
  
Taglat withdrew a few paces to the rear of the hut,  
gathered himself for the effort, ran quickly forward  
and leaped high into the air. He struck the roof  
directly above the rear wall of the hut, and the  
structure, reinforced by the wall beneath, held his  
enormous weight for an instant, then he moved forward a  
step, the roof sagged, the thatching parted and the  
great anthropoid shot through into the interior.
  
The sentries, hearing the crashing of the roof poles,  
leaped to their feet and rushed into the hut. Jane  
Clayton tried to roll aside as the great form lit upon  
the floor so close to her that one foot pinned her  
clothing to the ground.
  
The ape, feeling the movement beside him, reached down  
and gathered the girl in the hollow of one mighty arm.
The burnoose covered the hairy body so that Jane  
Clayton believed that a human arm supported her, and  
from the extremity of hopelessness a great hope sprang  
into her breast that at last she was in the keeping of  
a rescuer.
  
The two sentries were now within the hut, but  
hesitating because of doubt as to the nature of the  
cause of the disturbance. Their eyes, not yet  
accustomed to the darkness of the interior, told them  
nothing, nor did they hear any sound, for the ape stood  
silently awaiting their attack.
  
Seeing that they stood without advancing, and realizing  
that, handicapped as he was by the weight of the she,  
he could put up but a poor battle, Taglat elected to  
risk a sudden break for liberty. Lowering his head, he  
charged straight for the two sentries who blocked the  
doorway. The impact of his mighty shoulders bowled  
them over upon their backs, and before they could  
scramble to their feet, the ape was gone, darting in  
the shadows of the huts toward the palisade at the far  
end of the village.
  
The speed and strength of her rescuer filled Jane  
Clayton with wonder. Could it be that Tarzan had  
survived the bullet of the Arab? Who else in all the  
jungle could bear the weight of a grown woman as  
lightly as he who held her? She spoke his name; but  
there was no response. Still she did not give up hope.
  
At the palisade the beast did not even hesitate.
A single mighty leap carried it to the top, where it  
poised but for an instant before dropping to the ground  
upon the opposite side. Now the girl was almost  
positive that she was safe in the arms of her husband,  
and when the ape took to the trees and bore her swiftly  
into the jungle, as Tarzan had done at other times in  
the past, belief became conviction.
  
In a little moonlit glade, a mile or so from the camp  
of the raiders, her rescuer halted and dropped her to  
the ground. His roughness surprised her, but still she  
had no doubts. Again she called him by name, and at  
the same instant the ape, fretting under the restraints  
of the unaccustomed garments of the Tarmangani, tore  
the burnoose from him, revealing to the eyes of the  
horror-struck woman the hideous face and hairy form of  
a giant anthropoid.
  
With a piteous wail of terror, Jane Clayton swooned,  
while, from the concealment of a nearby bush, Numa,  
the lion, eyed the pair hungrily and licked his chops.
  
  
  
Tarzan, entering the tent of Achmet Zek, searched the  
interior thoroughly. He tore the bed to pieces and  
scattered the contents of box and bag about the floor.
He investigated whatever his eyes discovered, nor did  
those keen organs overlook a single article within the  
habitation of the raider chief; but no pouch or pretty  
pebbles rewarded his thoroughness.
  
Satisfied at last that his belongings were not in the  
possession of Achmet Zek, unless they were on the  
person of the chief himself, Tarzan decided to secure  
the person of the she before further prosecuting his  
search for the pouch.
  
Motioning for Chulk to follow him, he passed out of the  
tent by the same way that he had entered it, and  
walking boldly through the village, made directly for  
the hut where Jane Clayton had been imprisoned.
  
He noted with surprise the absence of Taglat, whom he  
had expected to find awaiting him outside the tent of  
Achmet Zek; but, accustomed as he was to the  
unreliability of apes, he gave no serious attention to  
the present defection of his surly companion. So long  
as Taglat did not cause interference with his plans,  
Tarzan was indifferent to his absence.
  
As he approached the hut, the ape-man noticed that a  
crowd had collected about the entrance. He could see  
that the men who composed it were much excited, and  
fearing lest Chulk's disguise should prove inadequate  
to the concealment of his true identity in the face of  
so many observers, he commanded the ape to betake  
himself to the far end of the village, and there await him.
  
As Chulk waddled off, keeping to the shadows, Tarzan  
advanced boldly toward the excited group before the  
doorway of the hut. He mingled with the blacks and the  
Arabs in an endeavor to learn the cause of the  
commotion, in his interest forgetting that he alone of  
the assemblage carried a spear, a bow and arrows, and  
thus might become an object of suspicious attention.
  
Shouldering his way through the crowd he approached the  
doorway, and had almost reached it when one of the  
Arabs laid a hand upon his shoulder, crying: "Who is  
this?" at the same time snatching back the hood from  
the ape-man's face.
  
Tarzan of the Apes in all his savage life had never  
been accustomed to pause in argument with an  
antagonist. The primitive instinct of self-preservation  
acknowledges many arts and wiles; but  
argument is not one of them, nor did he now waste  
precious time in an attempt to convince the raiders  
that he was not a wolf in sheep's clothing. Instead he  
had his unmasker by the throat ere the man's words had  
scarce quitted his lips, and hurling him from side to  
side brushed away those who would have swarmed upon him.
  
Using the Arab as a weapon, Tarzan forced his way  
quickly to the doorway, and a moment later was within  
the hut. A hasty examination revealed the fact that it  
was empty, and his sense of smell discovered, too, the  
scent spoor of Taglat, the ape. Tarzan uttered a low,  
ominous growl. Those who were pressing forward at the  
doorway to seize him, fell back as the savage notes of  
the bestial challenge smote upon their ears. They  
looked at one another in surprise and consternation.
A man had entered the hut alone, and yet with their own  
ears they had heard the voice of a wild beast within.
What could it mean? Had a lion or a leopard sought  
sanctuary in the interior, unbeknown to the sentries?
  
Tarzan's quick eyes discovered the opening in the roof,  
through which Taglat had fallen. He guessed that the  
ape had either come or gone by way of the break, and  
while the Arabs hesitated without, he sprang, catlike,  
for the opening, grasped the top of the wall and  
clambered out upon the roof, dropping instantly to the  
ground at the rear of the hut.
  
When the Arabs finally mustered courage to enter the  
hut, after firing several volleys through the walls,  
they found the interior deserted. At the same time  
Tarzan, at the far end of the village, sought for  
Chulk; but the ape was nowhere to be found.
  
Robbed of his she, deserted by his companions, and as  
much in ignorance as ever as to the whereabouts of his  
pouch and pebbles, it was an angry Tarzan who climbed  
the palisade and vanished into the darkness of the  
jungle.
  
For the present he must give up the search for his  
pouch, since it would be paramount to self-destruction  
to enter the Arab camp now while all its inhabitants  
were aroused and upon the alert.
  
In his escape from the village, the ape-man had lost  
the spoor of the fleeing Taglat, and now he circled  
widely through the forest in an endeavor to again pick  
it up.
  
Chulk had remained at his post until the cries and  
shots of the Arabs had filled his simple soul with  
terror, for above all things the ape folk fear the  
thunder-sticks of the Tarmangani; then he had clambered  
nimbly over the palisade, tearing his burnoose in the  
effort, and fled into the depths of the jungle,  
grumbling and scolding as he went.
  
Tarzan, roaming the jungle in search of the trail of  
Taglat and the she, traveled swiftly. In a little  
moonlit glade ahead of him the great ape was bending  
over the prostrate form of the woman Tarzan sought.
The beast was tearing at the bonds that confined her  
ankles and wrists, pulling and gnawing upon the cords.
  
The course the ape-man was taking would carry him but a  
short distance to the right of them, and though he  
could not have seen them the wind was bearing down from them  
to him, carrying their scent spoor strongly toward him.
  
A moment more and Jane Clayton's safety might have been  
assured, even though Numa, the lion, was already  
gathering himself in preparation for a charge; but  
Fate, already all too cruel, now outdid herself--the  
wind veered suddenly for a few moments, the scent spoor  
that would have led the ape-man to the girl's side was  
wafted in the opposite direction; Tarzan passed within  
fifty yards of the tragedy that was being enacted in  
the glade, and the opportunity was gone beyond recall.
  
  
  
18  
  
The Fight For the Treasure  
  
  
It was morning before Tarzan could bring himself to a  
realization of the possibility of failure of his quest,  
and even then he would only admit that success was but  
delayed. He would eat and sleep, and then set forth  
again. The jungle was wide; but wide too were the  
experience and cunning of Tarzan. Taglat might travel  
far; but Tarzan would find him in the end, though he  
had to search every tree in the mighty forest.
  
Soliloquizing thus, the ape-man followed the spoor of  
Bara, the deer, the unfortunate upon which he had  
decided to satisfy his hunger. For half an hour the  
trail led the ape-man toward the east along a  
well-marked game path, when suddenly, to the stalker's  
astonishment, the quarry broke into sight, racing madly  
back along the narrow way straight toward the hunter.
  
Tarzan, who had been following along the trail, leaped  
so quickly to the concealing verdure at the side that  
the deer was still unaware of the presence of an enemy  
in this direction, and while the animal was still some  
distance away, the ape-man swung into the lower  
branches of the tree which overhung the trail. There  
he crouched, a savage beast of prey, awaiting the  
coming of its victim.
  
What had frightened the deer into so frantic a retreat,  
Tarzan did not know--Numa, the lion, perhaps, or  
Sheeta, the panther; but whatsoever it was mattered  
little to Tarzan of the Apes--he was ready and willing  
to defend his kill against any other denizen of the  
jungle. If he were unable to do it by means of  
physical prowess, he had at his command another and a  
greater power--his shrewd intelligence.
  
And so, on came the running deer, straight into the  
jaws of death. The ape-man turned so that his back was  
toward the approaching animal. He poised with bent  
knees upon the gently swaying limb above the trail,  
timing with keen ears the nearing hoof beats of  
frightened Bara.
  
In a moment the victim flashed beneath the limb and at  
the same instant the ape-man above sprang out and down  
upon its back. The weight of the man's body carried  
the deer to the ground. It stumbled forward once in a  
futile effort to rise, and then mighty muscles dragged  
its head far back, gave the neck a vicious wrench, and  
Bara was dead.
  
Quick had been the killing, and equally quick were the  
ape-man's subsequent actions, for who might know what  
manner of killer pursued Bara, or how close at hand he  
might be? Scarce had the neck of the victim snapped  
than the carcass was hanging over one of Tarzan's broad  
shoulders, and an instant later the ape-man was perched  
once more among the lower branches of a tree above the  
trail, his keen, gray eyes scanning the pathway down  
which the deer had fled.
  
Nor was it long before the cause of Bara's fright  
became evident to Tarzan, for presently came the  
unmistakable sounds of approaching horsemen. Dragging  
his kill after him the ape-man ascended to the middle  
terrace, and settling himself comfortably in the crotch  
of a tree where he could still view the trail beneath,  
cut a juicy steak from the deer's loin, and burying his  
strong, white teeth in the hot flesh proceeded to enjoy  
the fruits of his prowess and his cunning.
  
Nor did he neglect the trail beneath while he satisfied  
his hunger. His sharp eyes saw the muzzle of the  
leading horse as it came into view around a bend in the  
tortuous trail, and one by one they scrutinized the  
riders as they passed beneath him in single file.
  
Among them came one whom Tarzan recognized, but so  
schooled was the ape-man in the control of his emotions  
that no slightest change of expression, much less any  
hysterical demonstration that might have revealed his  
presence, betrayed the fact of his inward excitement.
  
Beneath him, as unconscious of his presence as were the  
Abyssinians before and behind him, rode Albert Werper,  
while the ape-man scrutinized the Belgian for some sign  
of the pouch which he had stolen.
  
As the Abyssinians rode toward the south, a giant  
figure hovered ever upon their trail--a huge, almost  
naked white man, who carried the bloody carcass of a  
deer upon his shoulders, for Tarzan knew that he might  
not have another opportunity to hunt for some time if  
he were to follow the Belgian.
  
To endeavor to snatch him from the midst of the armed  
horsemen, not even Tarzan would attempt other than in  
the last extremity, for the way of the wild is the way  
of caution and cunning, unless they be aroused to  
rashness by pain or anger.
  
So the Abyssinians and the Belgian marched southward  
and Tarzan of the Apes swung silently after them  
through the swaying branches of the middle terrace.
  
A two days' march brought them to a level plain beyond  
which lay mountains--a plain which Tarzan remembered  
and which aroused within him vague half memories and  
strange longings. Out upon the plain the horsemen  
rode, and at a safe distance behind them crept the ape-man,  
taking advantage of such cover as the ground afforded.
  
Beside a charred pile of timbers the Abyssinians  
halted, and Tarzan, sneaking close and concealing  
himself in nearby shrubbery, watched them in  
wonderment. He saw them digging up the earth, and he  
wondered if they had hidden meat there in the past and  
now had come for it. Then he recalled how he had  
buried his pretty pebbles, and the suggestion that had  
caused him to do it. They were digging for the things  
the blacks had buried here!
  
Presently he saw them uncover a dirty, yellow object,  
and he witnessed the joy of Werper and of Abdul Mourak  
as the grimy object was exposed to view. One by one  
they unearthed many similar pieces, all of the same  
uniform, dirty yellow, until a pile of them lay upon  
the ground, a pile which Abdul Mourak fondled and  
petted in an ecstasy of greed.
  
Something stirred in the ape-man's mind as he looked  
long upon the golden ingots. Where had he seen such  
before? What were they? Why did these Tarmangani covet  
them so greatly? To whom did they belong?
  
He recalled the black men who had buried them.
The things must be theirs. Werper was stealing them as  
he had stolen Tarzan's pouch of pebbles. The ape-man's  
eyes blazed in anger. He would like to find the black  
men and lead them against these thieves. He wondered  
where their village might be.
  
As all these things ran through the active mind, a  
party of men moved out of the forest at the edge of the  
plain and advanced toward the ruins of the burned bungalow.
  
Abdul Mourak, always watchful, was the first to see  
them, but already they were halfway across the open.
He called to his men to mount and hold themselves in  
readiness, for in the heart of Africa who may know  
whether a strange host be friend or foe?
  
Werper, swinging into his saddle, fastened his eyes  
upon the newcomers, then, white and trembling he turned  
toward Abdul Mourak.
  
"It is Achmet Zek and his raiders," he whispered.
"They are come for the gold."  
  
It must have been at about the same instant that Achmet  
Zek discovered the pile of yellow ingots and realized  
the actuality of what he had already feared since first  
his eyes had alighted upon the party beside the ruins  
of the Englishman's bungalow. Someone had forestalled  
him--another had come for the treasure ahead of him.
  
The Arab was crazed by rage. Recently everything had  
gone against him. He had lost the jewels, the Belgian,  
and for the second time he had lost the Englishwoman.
Now some one had come to rob him of this treasure which  
he had thought as safe from disturbance here as though  
it never had been mined.
  
He cared not whom the thieves might be. They would not  
give up the gold without a battle, of that he was  
certain, and with a wild whoop and a command to his  
followers, Achmet Zek put spurs to his horse and dashed  
down upon the Abyssinians, and after him, waving their  
long guns above their heads, yelling and cursing, came  
his motley horde of cut-throat followers.
  
The men of Abdul Mourak met them with a volley which  
emptied a few saddles, and then the raiders were among  
them, and sword, pistol and musket, each was doing its  
most hideous and bloody work.
  
Achmet Zek, spying Werper at the first charge, bore  
down upon the Belgian, and the latter, terrified by  
contemplation of the fate he deserved, turned his  
horse's head and dashed madly away in an effort to  
escape. Shouting to a lieutenant to take command, and  
urging him upon pain of death to dispatch the  
Abyssinians and bring the gold back to his camp, Achmet  
Zek set off across the plain in pursuit of the Belgian,  
his wicked nature unable to forego the pleasures of  
revenge, even at the risk of sacrificing the treasure.
  
As the pursued and the pursuer raced madly toward the  
distant forest the battle behind them raged with bloody  
savageness. No quarter was asked or given by either  
the ferocious Abyssinians or the murderous cut-throats  
of Achmet Zek.
  
From the concealment of the shrubbery Tarzan watched  
the sanguinary conflict which so effectually surrounded  
him that he found no loop-hole through which he might  
escape to follow Werper and the Arab chief.
  
The Abyssinians were formed in a circle which included  
Tarzan's position, and around and into them galloped  
the yelling raiders, now darting away, now charging in  
to deliver thrusts and cuts with their curved swords.
  
Numerically the men of Achmet Zek were superior, and  
slowly but surely the soldiers of Menelek were being  
exterminated. To Tarzan the result was immaterial.
He watched with but a single purpose--to escape the ring  
of blood-mad fighters and be away after the Belgian and  
his pouch.
  
When he had first discovered Werper upon the trail  
where he had slain Bara, he had thought that his eyes  
must be playing him false, so certain had he been that  
the thief had been slain and devoured by Numa; but  
after following the detachment for two days, with his  
keen eyes always upon the Belgian, he no longer doubted  
the identity of the man, though he was put to it to  
explain the identity of the mutilated corpse he had  
supposed was the man he sought.
  
As he crouched in hiding among the unkempt shrubbery  
which so short a while since had been the delight and  
pride of the wife he no longer recalled, an Arab and an  
Abyssinian wheeled their mounts close to his position  
as they slashed at each other with their swords.
  
Step by step the Arab beat back his adversary until the  
latter's horse all but trod upon the ape-man, and then  
a vicious cut clove the black warrior's skull, and the  
corpse toppled backward almost upon Tarzan.
  
As the Abyssinian tumbled from his saddle the  
possibility of escape which was represented by the  
riderless horse electrified the ape-man to instant  
action. Before the frightened beast could gather  
himself for flight a naked giant was astride his back.
A strong hand had grasped his bridle rein, and the  
surprised Arab discovered a new foe in the saddle of  
him, whom he had slain.
  
But this enemy wielded no sword, and his spear and bow  
remained upon his back. The Arab, recovered from his  
first surprise, dashed in with raised sword to  
annihilate this presumptuous stranger. He aimed a  
mighty blow at the ape-man's head, a blow which swung  
harmlessly through thin air as Tarzan ducked from its  
path, and then the Arab felt the other's horse brushing  
his leg, a great arm shot out and encircled his waist,  
and before he could recover himself he was dragged from  
his saddle, and forming a shield for his antagonist was  
borne at a mad run straight through the encircling  
ranks of his fellows.
  
Just beyond them he was tossed aside upon the ground,  
and the last he saw of his strange foeman the latter  
was galloping off across the plain in the direction of  
the forest at its farther edge.
  
For another hour the battle raged nor did it cease  
until the last of the Abyssinians lay dead upon the  
ground, or had galloped off toward the north in flight.
But a handful of men escaped, among them Abdul Mourak.
  
The victorious raiders collected about the pile of  
golden ingots which the Abyssinians had uncovered, and  
there awaited the return of their leader. Their  
exultation was slightly tempered by the glimpse they  
had had of the strange apparition of the naked white  
man galloping away upon the horse of one of their  
foemen and carrying a companion who was now among them  
expatiating upon the superhuman strength of the ape-man.
None of them there but was familiar with the name  
and fame of Tarzan of the Apes, and the fact that they  
had recognized the white giant as the ferocious enemy  
of the wrongdoers of the jungle, added to their terror,  
for they had been assured that Tarzan was dead.
  
Naturally superstitious, they fully believed that they  
had seen the disembodied spirit of the dead man, and  
now they cast fearful glances about them in expectation  
of the ghost's early return to the scene of the ruin  
they had inflicted upon him during their recent raid  
upon his home, and discussed in affrighted whispers the  
probable nature of the vengeance which the spirit would  
inflict upon them should he return to find them in  
possession of his gold.
  
As they conversed their terror grew, while from the  
concealment of the reeds along the river below them a  
small party of naked, black warriors watched their  
every move. From the heights beyond the river these  
black men had heard the noise of the conflict, and  
creeping warily down to the stream had forded it and  
advanced through the reeds until they were in a  
position to watch every move of the combatants.
  
For a half hour the raiders awaited Achmet Zek's  
return, their fear of the earlier return of the ghost  
of Tarzan constantly undermining their loyalty to and  
fear of their chief. Finally one among them voiced the  
desires of all when he announced that he intended  
riding forth toward the forest in search of Achmet Zek.
Instantly every man of them sprang to his mount.
  
"The gold will be safe here," cried one. "We have  
killed the Abyssinians and there are no others to carry  
it away. Let us ride in search of Achmet Zek!"  
  
And a moment later, amidst a cloud of dust, the raiders  
were galloping madly across the plain, and out from the  
concealment of the reeds along the river, crept a party  
of black warriors toward the spot where the golden  
ingots of Opar lay piled on the ground.
  
Werper had still been in advance of Achmet Zek when he  
reached the forest; but the latter, better mounted, was  
gaining upon him. Riding with the reckless courage of  
desperation the Belgian urged his mount to greater  
speed even within the narrow confines of the winding,  
game trail that the beast was following.
  
Behind him he could hear the voice of Achmet Zek crying  
to him to halt; but Werper only dug the spurs deeper  
into the bleeding sides of his panting mount. Two  
hundred yards within the forest a broken branch lay  
across the trail. It was a small thing that a horse  
might ordinarily take in his natural stride without  
noticing its presence; but Werper's horse was jaded,  
his feet were heavy with weariness, and as the branch  
caught between his front legs he stumbled, was unable  
to recover himself, and went down, sprawling in the  
trail.
  
Werper, going over his head, rolled a few yards farther  
on, scrambled to his feet and ran back. Seizing the  
reins he tugged to drag the beast to his feet; but the  
animal would not or could not rise, and as the Belgian  
cursed and struck at him, Achmet Zek appeared in view.
  
Instantly the Belgian ceased his efforts with the dying  
animal at his feet, and seizing his rifle, dropped  
behind the horse and fired at the oncoming Arab.
  
His bullet, going low, struck Achmet Zek's horse in the  
breast, bringing him down a hundred yards from where  
Werper lay preparing to fire a second shot.
  
The Arab, who had gone down with his mount, was  
standing astride him, and seeing the Belgian's  
strategic position behind his fallen horse, lost no  
time in taking up a similar one behind his own.
  
And there the two lay, alternately firing at and  
cursing each other, while from behind the Arab, Tarzan  
of the Apes approached to the edge of the forest. Here  
he heard the occasional shots of the duelists, and  
choosing the safer and swifter avenue of the forest  
branches to the uncertain transportation afforded by a  
half-broken Abyssinian pony, took to the trees.
  
Keeping to one side of the trail, the ape-man came  
presently to a point where he could look down in  
comparative safety upon the fighters. First one and  
then the other would partially raise himself above his  
breastwork of horseflesh, fire his weapon and  
immediately drop flat behind his shelter, where he  
would reload and repeat the act a moment later.
  
Werper had but little ammunition, having been hastily  
armed by Abdul Mourak from the body of one of the first  
of the Abyssinians who had fallen in the fight about  
the pile of ingots, and now he realized that soon he  
would have used his last bullet, and be at the mercy of  
the Arab--a mercy with which he was well acquainted.
  
Facing both death and despoilment of his treasure, the  
Belgian cast about for some plan of escape, and the  
only one that appealed to him as containing even a  
remote possibility of success hinged upon the chance of  
bribing Achmet Zek.
  
Werper had fired all but a single cartridge, when,  
during a lull in the fighting, he called aloud to his  
opponent.
  
"Achmet Zek," he cried, "Allah alone knows which one of  
us may leave our bones to rot where he lies upon this  
trail today if we keep up our foolish battle. You wish  
the contents of the pouch I wear about my waist, and I  
wish my life and my liberty even more than I do the  
jewels. Let us each, then, take that which he most  
desires and go our separate ways in peace. I will lay  
the pouch upon the carcass of my horse, where you may  
see it, and you, in turn, will lay your gun upon your  
horse, with butt toward me. Then I will go away,  
leaving the pouch to you, and you will let me go in  
safety. I want only my life, and my freedom."  
  
The Arab thought in silence for a moment. Then he  
spoke. His reply was influenced by the fact that he had  
expended his last shot.
  
"Go your way, then," he growled, "leaving the pouch in  
plain sight behind you. See, I lay my gun thus, with  
the butt toward you. Go."  
  
Werper removed the pouch from about his waist.
Sorrowfully and affectionately he let his fingers press  
the hard outlines of the contents. Ah, if he could  
extract a little handful of the precious stones! But  
Achmet Zek was standing now, his eagle eyes commanding  
a plain view of the Belgian and his every act.
  
Regretfully Werper laid the pouch, its contents  
undisturbed, upon the body of his horse, rose, and  
taking his rifle with him, backed slowly down the trail  
until a turn hid him from the view of the watchful Arab.
  
Even then Achmet Zek did not advance, fearful as he was  
of some such treachery as he himself might have been  
guilty of under like circumstances; nor were his  
suspicions groundless, for the Belgian, no sooner had  
he passed out of the range of the Arab's vision, halted  
behind the bole of a tree, where he still commanded an  
unobstructed view of his dead horse and the pouch, and  
raising his rifle covered the spot where the other's  
body must appear when he came forward to seize the  
treasure.
  
But Achmet Zek was no fool to expose himself to the  
blackened honor of a thief and a murderer. Taking his  
long gun with him, he left the trail, entering the rank  
and tangled vegetation which walled it, and crawling  
slowly forward on hands and knees he paralleled the  
trail; but never for an instant was his body exposed to  
the rifle of the hidden assassin.
  
Thus Achmet Zek advanced until he had come opposite the  
dead horse of his enemy. The pouch lay there in full  
view, while a short distance along the trail, Werper  
waited in growing impatience and nervousness, wondering  
why the Arab did not come to claim his reward.
  
Presently he saw the muzzle of a rifle appear suddenly  
and mysteriously a few inches above the pouch, and  
before he could realize the cunning trick that the Arab  
had played upon him the sight of the weapon was  
adroitly hooked into the rawhide thong which formed the  
carrying strap of the pouch, and the latter was drawn  
quickly from his view into the dense foliage at the  
trail's side.
  
Not for an instant had the raider exposed a square inch  
of his body, and Werper dared not fire his one  
remaining shot unless every chance of a successful hit  
was in his favor.
  
Chuckling to himself, Achmet Zek withdrew a few paces  
farther into the jungle, for he was as positive that  
Werper was waiting nearby for a chance to pot him as  
though his eyes had penetrated the jungle trees to the  
figure of the hiding Belgian, fingering his rifle  
behind the bole of the buttressed giant.
  
Werper did not dare advance--his cupidity would not  
permit him to depart, and so he stood there, his rifle  
ready in his hands, his eyes watching the trail before  
him with catlike intensity.
  
But there was another who had seen the pouch and  
recognized it, who did advance with Achmet Zek,  
hovering above him, as silent and as sure as death  
itself, and as the Arab, finding a little spot less  
overgrown with bushes than he had yet encountered,  
prepared to gloat his eyes upon the contents of the  
pouch, Tarzan paused directly above him, intent upon  
the same object.
  
Wetting his thin lips with his tongue, Achmet Zek  
loosened the tie strings which closed the mouth of the  
pouch, and cupping one claw-like hand poured forth a  
portion of the contents into his palm.
  
A single look he took at the stones lying in his hand.
His eyes narrowed, a curse broke from his lips, and he  
hurled the small objects upon the ground, disdainfully.
Quickly he emptied the balance of the contents until he  
had scanned each separate stone, and as he dumped them  
all upon the ground and stamped upon them his rage grew  
until the muscles of his face worked in demon-like  
fury, and his fingers clenched until his nails bit into  
the flesh.
  
Above, Tarzan watched in wonderment. He had been  
curious to discover what all the pow-wow about his  
pouch had meant. He wanted to see what the Arab would  
do after the other had gone away, leaving the pouch  
behind him, and, having satisfied his curiosity, he  
would then have pounced upon Achmet Zek and taken the  
pouch and his pretty pebbles away from him, for did  
they not belong to Tarzan?
  
He saw the Arab now throw aside the empty pouch, and  
grasping his long gun by the barrel, clublike, sneak  
stealthily through the jungle beside the trail along  
which Werper had gone.
  
As the man disappeared from his view, Tarzan dropped to  
the ground and commenced gathering up the spilled  
contents of the pouch, and the moment that he obtained  
his first near view of the scattered pebbles he  
understood the rage of the Arab, for instead of the  
glittering and scintillating gems which had first  
caught and held the attention of the ape-man, the pouch  
now contained but a collection of ordinary river  
pebbles.
  
  
  
19  
  
Jane Clayton and the Beasts of the Jungle  
  
  
Mugambi, after his successful break for liberty,  
had fallen upon hard times. His way had led him through  
a country with which he was unfamiliar, a jungle country  
in which he could find no water, and but little food,  
so that after several days of wandering he found  
himself so reduced in strength that he could barely  
drag himself along.
  
It was with growing difficulty that he found the  
strength necessary to construct a shelter by night  
wherein he might be reasonably safe from the large  
carnivora, and by day he still further exhausted his  
strength in digging for edible roots, and searching for  
water.
  
A few stagnant pools at considerable distances apart  
saved him from death by thirst; but his was a pitiable  
state when finally he stumbled by accident upon a large  
river in a country where fruit was abundant, and small  
game which he might bag by means of a combination of  
stealth, cunning, and a crude knob-stick which he had  
fashioned from a fallen limb.
  
Realizing that he still had a long march ahead of him  
before he could reach even the outskirts of the Waziri  
country, Mugambi wisely decided to remain where he was  
until he had recuperated his strength and health. A  
few days' rest would accomplish wonders for him, he  
knew, and he could ill afford to sacrifice his chances  
for a safe return by setting forth handicapped by  
weakness.
  
And so it was that he constructed a substantial thorn  
boma, and rigged a thatched shelter within it, where he  
might sleep by night in security, and from which he  
sallied forth by day to hunt the flesh which alone  
could return to his giant thews their normal prowess.
  
One day, as he hunted, a pair of savage eyes discovered  
him from the concealment of the branches of a great  
tree beneath which the black warrior passed.
Bloodshot, wicked eyes they were, set in a fierce and  
hairy face.
  
They watched Mugambi make his little kill of a small  
rodent, and they followed him as he returned to his  
hut, their owner moving quietly through the trees upon  
the trail of the Negro.
  
The creature was Chulk, and he looked down upon the  
unconscious man more in curiosity than in hate. The  
wearing of the Arab burnoose which Tarzan had placed  
upon his person had aroused in the mind of the  
anthropoid a desire for similar mimicry of the  
Tarmangani. The burnoose, though, had obstructed his  
movements and proven such a nuisance that the ape had  
long since torn it from him and thrown it away.
  
Now, however, he saw a Gomangani arrayed in less  
cumbersome apparel--a loin cloth, a few copper  
ornaments and a feather headdress. These were more in  
line with Chulk's desires than a flowing robe which was  
constantly getting between one's legs, and catching  
upon every limb and bush along the leafy trail.
  
Chulk eyed the pouch, which, suspended over Mugambi's  
shoulder, swung beside his black hip. This took his  
fancy, for it was ornamented with feathers and a  
fringe, and so the ape hung about Mugambi's boma,  
waiting an opportunity to seize either by stealth or  
might some object of the black's apparel.
  
Nor was it long before the opportunity came. Feeling  
safe within his thorny enclosure, Mugambi was wont to  
stretch himself in the shade of his shelter during the  
heat of the day, and sleep in peaceful security until  
the declining sun carried with it the enervating  
temperature of midday.
  
Watching from above, Chulk saw the black warrior  
stretched thus in the unconsciousness of sleep one  
sultry afternoon. Creeping out upon an overhanging  
branch the anthropoid dropped to the ground within the  
boma. He approached the sleeper upon padded feet which  
gave forth no sound, and with an uncanny woodcraft that  
rustled not a leaf or a grass blade.
  
Pausing beside the man, the ape bent over and examined  
his belongings. Great as was the strength of Chulk  
there lay in the back of his little brain a something  
which deterred him from arousing the man to combat--a  
sense that is inherent in all the lower orders, a  
strange fear of man, that rules even the most powerful  
of the jungle creatures at times.
  
To remove Mugambi's loin cloth without awakening him  
would be impossible, and the only detachable things  
were the knob-stick and the pouch, which had fallen  
from the black's shoulder as he rolled in sleep.
  
Seizing these two articles, as better than nothing at  
all, Chulk retreated with haste, and every indication  
of nervous terror, to the safety of the tree from which  
he had dropped, and, still haunted by that indefinable  
terror which the close proximity of man awakened in his  
breast, fled precipitately through the jungle. Aroused  
by attack, or supported by the presence of another of  
his kind, Chulk could have braved the presence of a  
score of human beings, but alone--ah, that was a  
different matter--alone, and unenraged.
  
It was some time after Mugambi awoke that he missed the  
pouch. Instantly he was all excitement. What could  
have become of it? It had been at his side when he lay  
down to sleep--of that he was certain, for had he not  
pushed it from beneath him when its bulging bulk,  
pressing against his ribs, caused him discomfort? Yes,  
it had been there when he lay down to sleep. How then  
had it vanished?
  
Mugambi's savage imagination was filled with visions of  
the spirits of departed friends and enemies, for only  
to the machinations of such as these could he attribute  
the disappearance of his pouch and knob-stick in the  
first excitement of the discovery of their loss; but  
later and more careful investigation, such as his  
woodcraft made possible, revealed indisputable evidence  
of a more material explanation than his excited fancy  
and superstition had at first led him to accept.
  
In the trampled turf beside him was the faint impress  
of huge, manlike feet. Mugambi raised his brows as the  
truth dawned upon him. Hastily leaving the boma he  
searched in all directions about the enclosure for some  
farther sign of the tell-tale spoor. He climbed trees  
and sought for evidence of the direction of the thief's  
flight; but the faint signs left by a wary ape who  
elects to travel through the trees eluded the woodcraft  
of Mugambi. Tarzan might have followed them; but no  
ordinary mortal could perceive them, or perceiving,  
translate.
  
The black, now strengthened and refreshed by his rest,  
felt ready to set out again for Waziri, and finding  
himself another knob-stick, turned his back upon the  
river and plunged into the mazes of the jungle.
  
As Taglat struggled with the bonds which secured the  
ankles and wrists of his captive, the great lion that  
eyed the two from behind a nearby clump of bushes  
wormed closer to his intended prey.
  
The ape's back was toward the lion. He did not see the  
broad head, fringed by its rough mane, protruding  
through the leafy wall. He could not know that the  
powerful hind paws were gathering close beneath the  
tawny belly preparatory to a sudden spring, and his  
first intimation of impending danger was the thunderous  
and triumphant roar which the charging lion could no  
longer suppress.
  
Scarce pausing for a backward glance, Taglat abandoned  
the unconscious woman and fled in the opposite  
direction from the horrid sound which had broken in so  
unexpected and terrifying a manner upon his startled  
ears; but the warning had come too late to save him,  
and the lion, in his second bound, alighted full upon  
the broad shoulders of the anthropoid.
  
As the great bull went down there was awakened in him  
to the full all the cunning, all the ferocity, all the  
physical prowess which obey the mightiest of the  
fundamental laws of nature, the law of self-preservation,  
and turning upon his back he closed with  
the carnivore in a death struggle so fearless and  
abandoned, that for a moment the great Numa himself may  
have trembled for the outcome.
  
Seizing the lion by the mane, Taglat buried his  
yellowed fangs deep in the monster's throat, growling  
hideously through the muffled gag of blood and hair.
Mixed with the ape's voice the lion's roars of rage and  
pain reverberated through the jungle, till the lesser  
creatures of the wild, startled from their peaceful  
pursuits, scurried fearfully away.
  
Rolling over and over upon the turf the two battled  
with demoniac fury, until the colossal cat, by doubling  
his hind paws far up beneath his belly sank his talons  
deep into Taglat's chest, then, ripping downward with  
all his strength, Numa accomplished his design, and the  
disemboweled anthropoid, with a last spasmodic  
struggle, relaxed in limp and bloody dissolution  
beneath his titanic adversary.
  
Scrambling to his feet, Numa looked about quickly in  
all directions, as though seeking to detect the  
possible presence of other foes; but only the still and  
unconscious form of the girl, lying a few paces from  
him met his gaze, and with an angry growl he placed a  
forepaw upon the body of his kill and raising his head  
gave voice to his savage victory cry.
  
For another moment he stood with fierce eyes roving to  
and fro about the clearing. At last they halted for a  
second time upon the girl. A low growl rumbled from  
the lion's throat. His lower jaw rose and fell, and  
the slaver drooled and dripped upon the dead face of  
Taglat.
  
Like two yellow-green augurs, wide and unblinking, the  
terrible eyes remained fixed upon Jane Clayton. The  
erect and majestic pose of the great frame shrank  
suddenly into a sinister crouch as, slowly and gently  
as one who treads on eggs, the devil-faced cat crept  
forward toward the girl.
  
Beneficent Fate maintained her in happy unconsciousness  
of the dread presence sneaking stealthily upon her.
She did not know when the lion paused at her side.
She did not hear the sniffing of his nostrils as he smelled  
about her. She did not feel the heat of the fetid  
breath upon her face, nor the dripping of the saliva  
from the frightful jaws half opened so close above her.
  
Finally the lion lifted a forepaw and turned the body  
of the girl half over, then he stood again eyeing her  
as though still undetermined whether life was extinct  
or not. Some noise or odor from the nearby jungle  
attracted his attention for a moment. His eyes did not  
again return to Jane Clayton, and presently he left  
her, walked over to the remains of Taglat, and  
crouching down upon his kill with his back toward the  
girl, proceeded to devour the ape.
  
It was upon this scene that Jane Clayton at last opened  
her eyes. Inured to danger, she maintained her  
self-possession in the face of the startling surprise  
which her new-found consciousness revealed to her. She  
neither cried out nor moved a muscle, until she had  
taken in every detail of the scene which lay within the  
range of her vision.
  
She saw that the lion had killed the ape, and that he  
was devouring his prey less than fifty feet from where  
she lay; but what could she do? Her hands and feet were  
bound. She must wait then, in what patience she could  
command, until Numa had eaten and digested the ape,  
when, without doubt, he would return to feast upon her,  
unless, in the meantime, the dread hyenas should  
discover her, or some other of the numerous prowling  
carnivora of the jungle.
  
As she lay tormented by these frightful thoughts, she  
suddenly became conscious that the bonds at her wrists  
and ankles no longer hurt her, and then of the fact  
that her hands were separated, one lying upon either  
side of her, instead of both being confined at her back.
  
Wonderingly she moved a hand. What miracle had been  
performed? It was not bound! Stealthily and noiselessly  
she moved her other limbs, only to discover that she  
was free. She could not know how the thing had  
happened, that Taglat, gnawing upon them for sinister  
purposes of his own, had cut them through but an  
instant before Numa had frightened him from his victim.
  
For a moment Jane Clayton was overwhelmed with joy and  
thanksgiving; but only for a moment. What good was her  
new-found liberty in the face of the frightful beast  
crouching so close beside her? If she could have had  
this chance under different conditions, how happily she  
would have taken advantage of it; but now it was given  
to her when escape was practically impossible.
  
The nearest tree was a hundred feet away, the lion less  
than fifty. To rise and attempt to reach the safety of  
those tantalizing branches would be but to invite  
instant destruction, for Numa would doubtless be too  
jealous of this future meal to permit it to escape with  
ease. And yet, too, there was another possibility--a  
chance which hinged entirely upon the unknown temper of  
the great beast.
  
His belly already partially filled, he might watch with  
indifference the departure of the girl; yet could she  
afford to chance so improbable a contingency? She  
doubted it. Upon the other hand she was no more minded  
to allow this frail opportunity for life to entirely  
elude her without taking or attempting to take some  
advantage from it.
  
She watched the lion narrowly. He could not see her  
without turning his head more than halfway around. She  
would attempt a ruse. Silently she rolled over in the  
direction of the nearest tree, and away from the lion,  
until she lay again in the same position in which Numa  
had left her, but a few feet farther from him.
  
Here she lay breathless watching the lion; but the  
beast gave no indication that he had heard aught to  
arouse his suspicions. Again she rolled over, gaining  
a few more feet and again she lay in rigid  
contemplation of the beast's back.
  
During what seemed hours to her tense nerves, Jane  
Clayton continued these tactics, and still the lion fed  
on in apparent unconsciousness that his second prey was  
escaping him. Already the girl was but a few paces  
from the tree--a moment more and she would be close  
enough to chance springing to her feet, throwing  
caution aside and making a sudden, bold dash for  
safety. She was halfway over in her turn, her face  
away from the lion, when he suddenly turned his great  
head and fastened his eyes upon her. He saw her roll  
over upon her side away from him, and then her eyes  
were turned again toward him, and the cold sweat broke  
from the girl's every pore as she realized that with  
life almost within her grasp, death had found her out.
  
For a long time neither the girl nor the lion moved.
The beast lay motionless, his head turned upon his  
shoulders and his glaring eyes fixed upon the rigid  
victim, now nearly fifty yards away. The girl stared  
back straight into those cruel orbs, daring not to move  
even a muscle.
  
The strain upon her nerves was becoming so unbearable  
that she could scarcely restrain a growing desire to  
scream, when Numa deliberately turned back to the  
business of feeding; but his back-layed ears attested a  
sinister regard for the actions of the girl behind him.
  
Realizing that she could not again turn without  
attracting his immediate and perhaps fatal attention,  
Jane Clayton resolved to risk all in one last attempt  
to reach the tree and clamber to the lower branches.
  
Gathering herself stealthily for the effort, she leaped  
suddenly to her feet, but almost simultaneously the  
lion sprang up, wheeled and with wide-distended jaws  
and terrific roars, charged swiftly down upon her.
  
Those who have spent lifetimes hunting the big game of  
Africa will tell you that scarcely any other creature  
in the world attains the speed of a charging lion.
For the short distance that the great cat can maintain it,  
it resembles nothing more closely than the onrushing of  
a giant locomotive under full speed, and so, though the  
distance that Jane Clayton must cover was relatively  
small, the terrific speed of the lion rendered her  
hopes of escape almost negligible.
  
Yet fear can work wonders, and though the upward spring  
of the lion as he neared the tree into which she was  
scrambling brought his talons in contact with her boots  
she eluded his raking grasp, and as he hurtled against  
the bole of her sanctuary, the girl drew herself into  
the safety of the branches above his reach.
  
For some time the lion paced, growling and moaning,  
beneath the tree in which Jane Clayton crouched,  
panting and trembling. The girl was a prey to the  
nervous reaction from the frightful ordeal through  
which she had so recently passed, and in her  
overwrought state it seemed that never again should she  
dare descend to the ground among the fearsome dangers  
which infested the broad stretch of jungle that she  
knew must lie between herself and the nearest village  
of her faithful Waziri.
  
It was almost dark before the lion finally quit the  
clearing, and even had his place beside the remnants of  
the mangled ape not been immediately usurped by a pack  
of hyenas, Jane Clayton would scarcely have dared  
venture from her refuge in the face of impending night,  
and so she composed herself as best she could for the  
long and tiresome wait, until daylight might offer some  
means of escape from the dread vicinity in which she  
had witnessed such terrifying adventures.
  
Tired nature at last overcame even her fears, and she  
dropped into a deep slumber, cradled in a comparatively  
safe, though rather uncomfortable, position against the  
bole of the tree, and supported by two large branches  
which grew outward, almost horizontally, but a few  
inches apart.
  
The sun was high in the heavens when she at last awoke,  
and beneath her was no sign either of Numa or the  
hyenas. Only the clean-picked bones of the ape,  
scattered about the ground, attested the fact of what  
had transpired in this seemingly peaceful spot but a  
few hours before.
  
Both hunger and thirst assailed her now, and realizing  
that she must descend or die of starvation, she at last  
summoned courage to undertake the ordeal of continuing  
her journey through the jungle.
  
Descending from the tree, she set out in a southerly  
direction, toward the point where she believed the  
plains of Waziri lay, and though she knew that only  
ruin and desolation marked the spot where once her  
happy home had stood, she hoped that by coming to the  
broad plain she might eventually reach one of the  
numerous Waziri villages that were scattered over the  
surrounding country, or chance upon a roving band of  
these indefatigable huntsmen.
  
The day was half spent when there broke unexpectedly  
upon her startled ears the sound of a rifle shot not  
far ahead of her. As she paused to listen, this first  
shot was followed by another and another and another.
What could it mean? The first explanation which sprung  
to her mind attributed the firing to an encounter  
between the Arab raiders and a party of Waziri; but as  
she did not know upon which side victory might rest, or  
whether she were behind friend or foe, she dared not  
advance nearer on the chance of revealing herself to an  
enemy.
  
After listening for several minutes she became  
convinced that no more than two or three rifles were  
engaged in the fight, since nothing approximating the  
sound of a volley reached her ears; but still she  
hesitated to approach, and at last, determining to take  
no chance, she climbed into the concealing foliage of a  
tree beside the trail she had been following and there  
fearfully awaited whatever might reveal itself.
  
As the firing became less rapid she caught the sound of  
men's voices, though she could distinguish no words,  
and at last the reports of the guns ceased, and she  
heard two men calling to each other in loud tones.
Then there was a long silence which was finally broken  
by the stealthy padding of footfalls on the trail ahead  
of her, and in another moment a man appeared in view  
backing toward her, a rifle ready in his hands, and his  
eyes directed in careful watchfulness along the way  
that he had come.
  
Almost instantly Jane Clayton recognized the man as M.
Jules Frecoult, who so recently had been a guest in her  
home. She was upon the point of calling to him in glad  
relief when she saw him leap quickly to one side and  
hide himself in the thick verdure at the trail's side.
It was evident that he was being followed by an enemy,  
and so Jane Clayton kept silent, lest she distract  
Frecoult's attention, or guide his foe to his hiding  
place.
  
Scarcely had Frecoult hidden himself than the figure of  
a white-robed Arab crept silently along the trail in  
pursuit. From her hiding place, Jane Clayton could see  
both men plainly. She recognized Achmet Zek as the  
leader of the band of ruffians who had raided her home  
and made her a prisoner, and as she saw Frecoult, the  
supposed friend and ally, raise his gun and take  
careful aim at the Arab, her heart stood still and  
every power of her soul was directed upon a fervent  
prayer for the accuracy of his aim.
  
Achmet Zek paused in the middle of the trail. His keen  
eyes scanned every bush and tree within the radius of  
his vision. His tall figure presented a perfect target  
to the perfidious assassin. There was a sharp report,  
and a little puff of smoke arose from the bush that hid  
the Belgian, as Achmet Zek stumbled forward and  
pitched, face down, upon the trail.
  
As Werper stepped back into the trail, he was startled  
by the sound of a glad cry from above him, and as he  
wheeled about to discover the author of this unexpected  
interruption, he saw Jane Clayton drop lightly from a  
nearby tree and run forward with outstretched hands to  
congratulate him upon his victory.
  
  
  
20  
  
Jane Clayton Again a Prisoner  
  
  
Though her clothes were torn and her hair disheveled,  
Albert Werper realized that he never before had looked  
upon such a vision of loveliness as that which Lady  
Greystoke presented in the relief and joy which she  
felt in coming so unexpectedly upon a friend and  
rescuer when hope had seemed so far away.
  
If the Belgian had entertained any doubts as to the  
woman's knowledge of his part in the perfidious attack  
upon her home and herself, it was quickly dissipated by  
the genuine friendliness of her greeting. She told him  
quickly of all that had befallen her since he had  
departed from her home, and as she spoke of the death  
of her husband her eyes were veiled by the tears which  
she could not repress.
  
"I am shocked," said Werper, in well-simulated  
sympathy; "but I am not surprised. That devil there,"  
and he pointed toward the body of Achmet Zek, "has  
terrorized the entire country. Your Waziri are either  
exterminated, or have been driven out of their country,  
far to the south. The men of Achmet Zek occupy the  
plain about your former home--there is neither  
sanctuary nor escape in that direction. Our only hope  
lies in traveling northward as rapidly as we may, of  
coming to the camp of the raiders before the knowledge  
of Achmet Zek's death reaches those who were left  
there, and of obtaining, through some ruse, an escort  
toward the north.
  
"I think that the thing can be accomplished, for I was  
a guest of the raider's before I knew the nature of the  
man, and those at the camp are not aware that I turned  
against him when I discovered his villainy.
  
"Come! We will make all possible haste to reach the  
camp before those who accompanied Achmet Zek upon his  
last raid have found his body and carried the news of  
his death to the cut-throats who remained behind. It  
is our only hope, Lady Greystoke, and you must place  
your entire faith in me if I am to succeed. Wait for  
me here a moment while I take from the Arab's body the  
wallet that he stole from me," and Werper stepped  
quickly to the dead man's side, and, kneeling, sought  
with quick fingers the pouch of jewels. To his  
consternation, there was no sign of them in the  
garments of Achmet Zek. Rising, he walked back along  
the trail, searching for some trace of the missing  
pouch or its contents; but he found nothing, even  
though he searched carefully the vicinity of his dead  
horse, and for a few paces into the jungle on either  
side. Puzzled, disappointed and angry, he at last  
returned to the girl. "The wallet is gone," he  
explained, crisply, "and I dare not delay longer in  
search of it. We must reach the camp before the  
returning raiders."  
  
Unsuspicious of the man's true character, Jane Clayton  
saw nothing peculiar in his plans, or in his specious  
explanation of his former friendship for the raider,  
and so she grasped with alacrity the seeming hope for  
safety which he proffered her, and turning about she  
set out with Albert Werper toward the hostile camp in  
which she so lately had been a prisoner.
  
It was late in the afternoon of the second day before  
they reached their destination, and as they paused upon  
the edge of the clearing before the gates of the walled  
village, Werper cautioned the girl to accede to  
whatever he might suggest by his conversation with the  
raiders.
  
"I shall tell them," he said, "that I apprehended you  
after you escaped from the camp, that I took you to  
Achmet Zek, and that as he was engaged in a stubborn  
battle with the Waziri, he directed me to return to  
camp with you, to obtain here a sufficient guard, and  
to ride north with you as rapidly as possible and  
dispose of you at the most advantageous terms to a  
certain slave broker whose name he gave me."  
  
Again the girl was deceived by the apparent frankness  
of the Belgian. She realized that desperate situations  
required desperate handling, and though she trembled  
inwardly at the thought of again entering the vile and  
hideous village of the raiders she saw no better course  
than that which her companion had suggested.
  
Calling aloud to those who tended the gates, Werper,  
grasping Jane Clayton by the arm, walked boldly across  
the clearing. Those who opened the gates to him  
permitted their surprise to show clearly in their  
expressions. That the discredited and hunted  
lieutenant should be thus returning fearlessly of his  
own volition, seemed to disarm them quite as  
effectually as his manner toward Lady Greystoke had  
deceived her.
  
The sentries at the gate returned Werper's salutations,  
and viewed with astonishment the prisoner whom he  
brought into the village with him.
  
Immediately the Belgian sought the Arab who had been  
left in charge of the camp during Achmet Zek's absence,  
and again his boldness disarmed suspicion and won the  
acceptance of his false explanation of his return.
The fact that he had brought back with him the woman  
prisoner who had escaped, added strength to his claims,  
and Mohammed Beyd soon found himself fraternizing  
good-naturedly with the very man whom he would have slain  
without compunction had he discovered him alone in the  
jungle a half hour before.
  
Jane Clayton was again confined to the prison hut she  
had formerly occupied, but as she realized that this  
was but a part of the deception which she and Frecoult  
were playing upon the credulous raiders, it was with  
quite a different sensation that she again entered the  
vile and filthy interior, from that which she had  
previously experienced, when hope was so far away.
  
Once more she was bound and sentries placed before the  
door of her prison; but before Werper left her he  
whispered words of cheer into her ear. Then he left,  
and made his way back to the tent of Mohammed Beyd.
He had been wondering how long it would be before the  
raiders who had ridden out with Achmet Zek would return  
with the murdered body of their chief, and the more he  
thought upon the matter the greater his fears became,  
that without accomplices his plan would fail.
  
What, even, if he got away from the camp in safety  
before any returned with the true story of his guilt--  
of what value would this advantage be other than to  
protract for a few days his mental torture and his  
life? These hard riders, familiar with every trail and  
bypath, would get him long before he could hope to  
reach the coast.
  
As these thoughts passed through his mind he entered  
the tent where Mohammed Beyd sat cross-legged upon a  
rug, smoking. The Arab looked up as the European came  
into his presence.
  
"Greetings, O Brother!" he said.
  
"Greetings!" replied Werper.
  
For a while neither spoke further. The Arab was the  
first to break the silence.
  
"And my master, Achmet Zek, was well when last you saw  
him?" he asked.
  
"Never was he safer from the sins and dangers of  
mortality," replied the Belgian.
  
"It is well," said Mohammed Beyd, blowing a little puff  
of blue smoke straight out before him.
  
Again there was silence for several minutes.
  
"And if he were dead?" asked the Belgian, determined to  
lead up to the truth, and attempt to bribe Mohammed  
Beyd into his service.
  
The Arab's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, his  
gaze boring straight into the eyes of the Belgian.
  
"I have been thinking much, Werper, since you returned  
so unexpectedly to the camp of the man whom you had  
deceived, and who sought you with death in his heart.
I have been with Achmet Zek for many years--his own  
mother never knew him so well as I. He never forgives--  
much less would he again trust a man who had once  
betrayed him; that I know.
  
"I have thought much, as I said, and the result of my  
thinking has assured me that Achmet Zek is dead--for  
otherwise you would never have dared return to his  
camp, unless you be either a braver man or a bigger  
fool than I have imagined. And, if this evidence of my  
judgment is not sufficient, I have but just now  
received from your own lips even more confirmatory  
witness--for did you not say that Achmet Zek was never  
more safe from the sins and dangers of mortality?
  
"Achmet Zek is dead--you need not deny it. I was not  
his mother, or his mistress, so do not fear that my  
wailings shall disturb you. Tell me why you have come  
back here. Tell me what you want, and, Werper, if you  
still possess the jewels of which Achmet Zek told me,  
there is no reason why you and I should not ride north  
together and divide the ransom of the white woman and  
the contents of the pouch you wear about your person. Eh?"  
  
The evil eyes narrowed, a vicious, thin-lipped smile  
tortured the villainous face, as Mohammed Beyd grinned  
knowingly into the face of the Belgian.
  
Werper was both relieved and disturbed by the Arab's  
attitude. The complacency with which he accepted the  
death of his chief lifted a considerable burden of  
apprehension from the shoulders of Achmet Zek's  
assassin; but his demand for a share of the jewels  
boded ill for Werper when Mohammed Beyd should have  
learned that the precious stones were no longer in the  
Belgian's possession.
  
To acknowledge that he had lost the jewels might be to  
arouse the wrath or suspicion of the Arab to such an  
extent as would jeopardize his new-found chances of  
escape. His one hope seemed, then, to lie in fostering  
Mohammed Beyd's belief that the jewels were still in  
his possession, and depend upon the accidents of the  
future to open an avenue of escape.
  
Could he contrive to tent with the Arab upon the march  
north, he might find opportunity in plenty to remove  
this menace to his life and liberty--it was worth  
trying, and, further, there seemed no other way out of  
his difficulty.
  
"Yes," he said, "Achmet Zek is dead. He fell in battle  
with a company of Abyssinian cavalry that held me  
captive. During the fighting I escaped; but I doubt if  
any of Achmet Zek's men live, and the gold they sought  
is in the possession of the Abyssinians. Even now they  
are doubtless marching on this camp, for they were sent  
by Menelek to punish Achmet Zek and his followers for a  
raid upon an Abyssinian village. There are many of  
them, and if we do not make haste to escape we shall  
all suffer the same fate as Achmet Zek."  
  
Mohammed Beyd listened in silence. How much of the  
unbeliever's story he might safely believe he did not  
know; but as it afforded him an excuse for deserting  
the village and making for the north he was not  
inclined to cross-question the Belgian too minutely.
  
"And if I ride north with you," he asked, "half the  
jewels and half the ransom of the woman shall be mine?"  
  
"Yes," replied Werper.
  
"Good," said Mohammed Beyd. "I go now to give the  
order for the breaking of camp early on the morrow,"  
and he rose to leave the tent.
  
Werper laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
  
"Wait," he said, "let us determine how many shall  
accompany us. It is not well that we be burdened by  
the women and children, for then indeed we might be  
overtaken by the Abyssinians. It would be far better  
to select a small guard of your bravest men, and leave  
word behind that we are riding WEST. Then, when  
the Abyssinians come they will be put upon the wrong  
trail should they have it in their hearts to pursue us,  
and if they do not they will at least ride north with  
less rapidity than as though they thought that we were  
ahead of them."  
  
"The serpent is less wise than thou, Werper," said  
Mohammed Beyd with a smile. "It shall be done as you  
say. Twenty men shall accompany us, and we shall ride  
WEST--when we leave the village."  
  
"Good," cried the Belgian, and so it was arranged.
  
Early the next morning Jane Clayton, after an almost  
sleepless night, was aroused by the sound of voices  
outside her prison, and a moment later, M. Frecoult,  
and two Arabs entered. The latter unbound her ankles  
and lifted her to her feet. Then her wrists were  
loosed, she was given a handful of dry bread, and led  
out into the faint light of dawn.
  
She looked questioningly at Frecoult, and at a moment  
that the Arab's attention was attracted in another  
direction the man leaned toward her and whispered that  
all was working out as he had planned. Thus assured,  
the young woman felt a renewal of the hope which the  
long and miserable night of bondage had almost expunged.
  
Shortly after, she was lifted to the back of a horse,  
and surrounded by Arabs, was escorted through the  
gateway of the village and off into the jungle toward  
the west. Half an hour later the party turned north,  
and northerly was their direction for the balance of  
the march.
  
M. Frecoult spoke with her but seldom, and she  
understood that in carrying out his deception he must  
maintain the semblance of her captor, rather than  
protector, and so she suspected nothing though she saw  
the friendly relations which seemed to exist between  
the European and the Arab leader of the band.
  
If Werper succeeded in keeping himself from  
conversation with the young woman, he failed signally  
to expel her from his thoughts. A hundred times a day  
he found his eyes wandering in her direction and  
feasting themselves upon her charms of face and figure.
Each hour his infatuation for her grew, until his  
desire to possess her gained almost the proportions of  
madness.
  
If either the girl or Mohammed Beyd could have guessed  
what passed in the mind of the man which each thought a  
friend and ally, the apparent harmony of the little  
company would have been rudely disturbed.
  
Werper had not succeeded in arranging to tent with  
Mohammed Beyd, and so he revolved many plans for the  
assassination of the Arab that would have been greatly  
simplified had he been permitted to share the other's  
nightly shelter.
  
Upon the second day out Mohammed Beyd reined his horse  
to the side of the animal on which the captive was  
mounted. It was, apparently, the first notice which  
the Arab had taken of the girl; but many times during  
these two days had his cunning eyes peered greedily  
from beneath the hood of his burnoose to gloat upon the  
beauties of the prisoner.
  
Nor was this hidden infatuation of any recent origin.
He had conceived it when first the wife of the  
Englishman had fallen into the hands of Achmet Zek; but  
while that austere chieftain lived, Mohammed Beyd had  
not even dared hope for a realization of his  
imaginings.
  
Now, though, it was different--only a despised dog of a  
Christian stood between himself and possession of the  
girl. How easy it would be to slay the unbeliever, and  
take unto himself both the woman and the jewels! With  
the latter in his possession, the ransom which might be  
obtained for the captive would form no great inducement  
to her relinquishment in the face of the pleasures of  
sole ownership of her. Yes, he would kill Werper,  
retain all the jewels and keep the Englishwoman.
  
He turned his eyes upon her as she rode along at his  
side. How beautiful she was! His fingers opened and  
closed--skinny, brown talons itching to feel the soft  
flesh of the victim in their remorseless clutch.
  
"Do you know," he asked leaning toward her, "where this  
man would take you?"  
  
Jane Clayton nodded affirmatively.
  
"And you are willing to become the plaything of a black  
sultan?"  
  
The girl drew herself up to her full height, and turned  
her head away; but she did not reply. She feared lest  
her knowledge of the ruse that M. Frecoult was playing  
upon the Arab might cause her to betray herself through  
an insufficient display of terror and aversion.
  
"You can escape this fate," continued the Arab;  
"Mohammed Beyd will save you," and he reached out a  
brown hand and seized the fingers of her right hand in  
a grasp so sudden and so fierce that this brutal  
passion was revealed as clearly in the act as though  
his lips had confessed it in words. Jane Clayton  
wrenched herself from his grasp.
  
"You beast!" she cried. "Leave me or I shall call M.
Frecoult."  
  
Mohammed Beyd drew back with a scowl. His thin, upper  
lip curled upward, revealing his smooth, white teeth.
  
"M. Frecoult?" he jeered. "There is no such person.
The man's name is Werper. He is a liar, a thief, and a  
murderer. He killed his captain in the Congo country  
and fled to the protection of Achmet Zek. He led  
Achmet Zek to the plunder of your home. He followed  
your husband, and planned to steal his gold from him.
He has told me that you think him your protector, and  
he has played upon this to win your confidence that it  
might be easier to carry you north and sell you into  
some black sultan's harem. Mohammed Beyd is your only  
hope," and with this assertion to provide the captive  
with food for thought, the Arab spurred forward toward  
the head of the column.
  
Jane Clayton could not know how much of Mohammed Beyd's  
indictment might be true, or how much false; but at  
least it had the effect of dampening her hopes and  
causing her to review with suspicion every past act of  
the man upon whom she had been looking as her sole  
protector in the midst of a world of enemies and  
dangers.
  
On the march a separate tent had been provided for the  
captive, and at night it was pitched between those of  
Mohammed Beyd and Werper. A sentry was posted at the  
front and another at the back, and with these  
precautions it had not been thought necessary to  
confine the prisoner to bonds. The evening following  
her interview with Mohammed Beyd, Jane Clayton sat for  
some time at the opening of her tent watching the rough  
activities of the camp. She had eaten the meal that  
had been brought her by Mohammed Beyd's Negro slave--a  
meal of cassava cakes and a nondescript stew in which a  
new-killed monkey, a couple of squirrels and the  
remains of a zebra, slain the previous day, were  
impartially and unsavorily combined; but the one-time  
Baltimore belle had long since submerged in the stern  
battle for existence, an estheticism which formerly  
revolted at much slighter provocation.
  
As the girl's eyes wandered across the trampled jungle  
clearing, already squalid from the presence of man, she  
no longer apprehended either the nearer objects of the  
foreground, the uncouth men laughing or quarreling  
among themselves, or the jungle beyond, which  
circumscribed the extreme range of her material vision.
Her gaze passed through all these, unseeing, to center  
itself upon a distant bungalow and scenes of happy  
security which brought to her eyes tears of mingled joy  
and sorrow. She saw a tall, broad-shouldered man  
riding in from distant fields; she saw herself waiting  
to greet him with an armful of fresh-cut roses from the  
bushes which flanked the little rustic gate before her.
All this was gone, vanished into the past, wiped out by  
the torches and bullets and hatred of these hideous and  
degenerate men. With a stifled sob, and a little  
shudder, Jane Clayton turned back into her tent and  
sought the pile of unclean blankets which were her bed.
Throwing herself face downward upon them she sobbed  
forth her misery until kindly sleep brought her, at  
least temporary, relief.
  
And while she slept a figure stole from the tent that  
stood to the right of hers. It approached the sentry  
before the doorway and whispered a few words in the  
man's ear. The latter nodded, and strode off through  
the darkness in the direction of his own blankets.
The figure passed to the rear of Jane Clayton's tent  
and spoke again to the sentry there, and this man also  
left, following in the trail of the first.
  
Then he who had sent them away stole silently to the  
tent flap and untying the fastenings entered with the  
noiselessness of a disembodied spirit.
  
  
  
21  
  
The Flight to the Jungle  
  
  
Sleepless upon his blankets, Albert Werper let his evil  
mind dwell upon the charms of the woman in the nearby  
tent. He had noted Mohammed Beyd's sudden interest in  
the girl, and judging the man by his own standards, had  
guessed at the basis of the Arab's sudden change of  
attitude toward the prisoner.
  
And as he let his imaginings run riot they aroused  
within him a bestial jealousy of Mohammed Beyd, and a  
great fear that the other might encompass his base  
designs upon the defenseless girl. By a strange  
process of reasoning, Werper, whose designs were  
identical with the Arab's, pictured himself as Jane  
Clayton's protector, and presently convinced himself  
that the attentions which might seem hideous to her  
if proffered by Mohammed Beyd, would be welcomed from  
Albert Werper.
  
Her husband was dead, and Werper fancied that he could  
replace in the girl's heart the position which had been  
vacated by the act of the grim reaper. He could offer  
Jane Clayton marriage--a thing which Mohammed Beyd  
would not offer, and which the girl would spurn from  
him with as deep disgust as she would his unholy lust.
  
It was not long before the Belgian had succeeded in  
convincing himself that the captive not only had every  
reason for having conceived sentiments of love for him;  
but that she had by various feminine methods  
acknowledged her new-born affection.
  
And then a sudden resolution possessed him. He threw  
the blankets from him and rose to his feet. Pulling on  
his boots and buckling his cartridge belt and revolver  
about his hips he stepped to the flap of his tent and  
looked out. There was no sentry before the entrance to  
the prisoner's tent! What could it mean? Fate was  
indeed playing into his hands.
  
Stepping outside he passed to the rear of the girl's  
tent. There was no sentry there, either! And now,  
boldly, he walked to the entrance and stepped within.
  
Dimly the moonlight illumined the interior. Across the  
tent a figure bent above the blankets of a bed. There  
was a whispered word, and another figure rose from the  
blankets to a sitting position. Slowly Albert Werper's  
eyes were becoming accustomed to the half darkness of  
the tent. He saw that the figure leaning over the bed  
was that of a man, and he guessed at the truth of the  
nocturnal visitor's identity.
  
A sullen, jealous rage enveloped him. He took a step  
in the direction of the two. He heard a frightened cry  
break from the girl's lips as she recognized the  
features of the man above her, and he saw Mohammed Beyd  
seize her by the throat and bear her back upon the  
blankets.
  
Cheated passion cast a red blur before the eyes of the  
Belgian. No! The man should not have her. She was for  
him and him alone. He would not be robbed of his rights.
  
Quickly he ran across the tent and threw himself upon  
the back of Mohammed Beyd. The latter, though  
surprised by this sudden and unexpected attack, was not  
one to give up without a battle. The Belgian's fingers  
were feeling for his throat, but the Arab tore them  
away, and rising wheeled upon his adversary. As they  
faced each other Werper struck the Arab a heavy blow in  
the face, sending him staggering backward. If he had  
followed up his advantage he would have had Mohammed  
Beyd at his mercy in another moment; but instead he  
tugged at his revolver to draw it from its holster, and  
Fate ordained that at that particular moment the weapon  
should stick in its leather scabbard.
  
Before he could disengage it, Mohammed Beyd had  
recovered himself and was dashing upon him. Again  
Werper struck the other in the face, and the Arab  
returned the blow. Striking at each other and  
ceaselessly attempting to clinch, the two battled  
about the small interior of the tent, while the girl,  
wide-eyed in terror and astonishment, watched the  
duel in frozen silence.
  
Again and again Werper struggled to draw his weapon.
Mohammed Beyd, anticipating no such opposition to his  
base desires, had come to the tent unarmed, except for  
a long knife which he now drew as he stood panting  
during the first brief rest of the encounter.
  
"Dog of a Christian," he whispered, "look upon this  
knife in the hands of Mohammed Beyd! Look well,  
unbeliever, for it is the last thing in life that you  
shall see or feel. With it Mohammed Beyd will cut out  
your black heart. If you have a God pray to him now--  
in a minute more you shall be dead," and with that he  
rushed viciously upon the Belgian, his knife raised  
high above his head.
  
Werper was still dragging futilely at his weapon. The  
Arab was almost upon him. In desperation the European  
waited until Mohammed Beyd was all but against him,  
then he threw himself to one side to the floor of the  
tent, leaving a leg extended in the path of the Arab.
  
The trick succeeded. Mohammed Beyd, carried on by the  
momentum of his charge, stumbled over the projecting  
obstacle and crashed to the ground. Instantly he was  
up again and wheeling to renew the battle; but Werper  
was on foot ahead of him, and now his revolver,  
loosened from its holster, flashed in his hand.
  
The Arab dove headfirst to grapple with him, there was  
a sharp report, a lurid gleam of flame in the darkness,  
and Mohammed Beyd rolled over and over upon the floor  
to come to a final rest beside the bed of the woman he  
had sought to dishonor.
  
Almost immediately following the report came the sound  
of excited voices in the camp without. Men were  
calling back and forth to one another asking the  
meaning of the shot. Werper could hear them running  
hither and thither, investigating.
  
Jane Clayton had risen to her feet as the Arab died,  
and now she came forward with outstretched hands toward  
Werper.
  
"How can I ever thank you, my friend?" she asked.
"And to think that only today I had almost believed the  
infamous story which this beast told me of your perfidy  
and of your past. Forgive me, M. Frecoult. I might  
have known that a white man and a gentleman could be  
naught else than the protector of a woman of his own  
race amid the dangers of this savage land."  
  
Werper's hands dropped limply at his sides. He stood  
looking at the girl; but he could find no words to  
reply to her. Her innocent arraignment of his true  
purposes was unanswerable.
  
Outside, the Arabs were searching for the author of  
the disturbing shot. The two sentries who had been  
relieved and sent to their blankets by Mohammed Beyd  
were the first to suggest going to the tent of the  
prisoner. It occurred to them that possibly the woman  
had successfully defended herself against their leader.
  
Werper heard the men approaching. To be apprehended as  
the slayer of Mohammed Beyd would be equivalent to a  
sentence of immediate death. The fierce and brutal  
raiders would tear to pieces a Christian who had dared  
spill the blood of their leader. He must find some  
excuse to delay the finding of Mohammed Beyd's dead  
body.
  
Returning his revolver to its holster, he walked  
quickly to the entrance of the tent. Parting the flaps  
he stepped out and confronted the men, who were rapidly  
approaching. Somehow he found within him the necessary  
bravado to force a smile to his lips, as he held up his  
hand to bar their farther progress.
  
"The woman resisted," he said, "and Mohammed Beyd was  
forced to shoot her. She is not dead--only slightly  
wounded. You may go back to your blankets. Mohammed  
Beyd and I will look after the prisoner;" then he  
turned and re-entered the tent, and the raiders,  
satisfied by this explanation, gladly returned to their  
broken slumbers.
  
As he again faced Jane Clayton, Werper found himself  
animated by quite different intentions than those which  
had lured him from his blankets but a few minutes  
before. The excitement of his encounter with Mohammed  
Beyd, as well as the dangers which he now faced at the  
hands of the raiders when morning must inevitably  
reveal the truth of what had occurred in the tent of  
the prisoner that night, had naturally cooled the hot  
passion which had dominated him when he entered the  
tent.
  
But another and stronger force was exerting itself in  
the girl's favor. However low a man may sink, honor  
and chivalry, has he ever possessed them, are never  
entirely eradicated from his character, and though  
Albert Werper had long since ceased to evidence the  
slightest claim to either the one or the other, the  
spontaneous acknowledgment of them which the girl's  
speech had presumed had reawakened them both within  
him.
  
For the first time he realized the almost hopeless and  
frightful position of the fair captive, and the depths  
of ignominy to which he had sunk, that had made it  
possible for him, a well-born, European gentleman, to  
have entertained even for a moment the part that he had  
taken in the ruin of her home, happiness, and herself.
  
Too much of baseness already lay at the threshold of  
his conscience for him ever to hope entirely to redeem  
himself; but in the first, sudden burst of contrition  
the man conceived an honest intention to undo, in so  
far as lay within his power, the evil that his criminal  
avarice had brought upon this sweet and unoffending  
woman.
  
As he stood apparently listening to the retreating  
footsteps--Jane Clayton approached him.
  
"What are we to do now?" she asked. "Morning will  
bring discovery of this," and she pointed to the still  
body of Mohammed Beyd. "They will kill you when they  
find him."  
  
For a time Werper did not reply, then he turned  
suddenly toward the woman.
  
"I have a plan," he cried. "It will require nerve and  
courage on your part; but you have already shown that  
you possess both. Can you endure still more?"  
  
"I can endure anything," she replied with a brave  
smile, "that may offer us even a slight chance for  
escape."  
  
"You must simulate death," he explained, "while I carry  
you from the camp. I will explain to the sentries that  
Mohammed Beyd has ordered me to take your body into the  
jungle. This seemingly unnecessary act I shall explain  
upon the grounds that Mohammed Beyd had conceived a  
violent passion for you and that he so regretted the  
act by which he had become your slayer that he could  
not endure the silent reproach of your lifeless body."  
  
The girl held up her hand to stop. A smile touched her  
lips.
  
"Are you quite mad?" she asked. "Do you imagine that  
the sentries will credit any such ridiculous tale?"  
  
"You do not know them," he replied. "Beneath their  
rough exteriors, despite their calloused and criminal  
natures, there exists in each a well-defined strain of  
romantic emotionalism--you will find it among such as  
these throughout the world. It is romance which lures  
men to lead wild lives of outlawry and crime. The ruse  
will succeed--never fear."  
  
Jane Clayton shrugged. "We can but try it--and then  
what?"  
  
"I shall hide you in the jungle," continued the  
Belgian, "coming for you alone and with two horses in  
the morning."  
  
"But how will you explain Mohammed Beyd's death?" she  
asked. "It will be discovered before ever you can  
escape the camp in the morning."  
  
"I shall not explain it," replied Werper. "Mohammed  
Beyd shall explain it himself--we must leave that to  
him. Are you ready for the venture?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But wait, I must get you a weapon and ammunition,"  
and Werper walked quickly from the tent.
  
Very shortly he returned with an extra revolver and  
ammunition belt strapped about his waist.
  
"Are you ready?" he asked.
  
"Quite ready," replied the girl.
  
"Then come and throw yourself limply across my left  
shoulder," and Werper knelt to receive her.
  
"There," he said, as he rose to his feet. "Now, let  
your arms, your legs and your head hang limply.
Remember that you are dead."  
  
A moment later the man walked out into the camp, the  
body of the woman across his shoulder.
  
A thorn boma had been thrown up about the camp, to  
discourage the bolder of the hungry carnivora. A  
couple of sentries paced to and fro in the light of a  
fire which they kept burning brightly. The nearer of  
these looked up in surprise as he saw Werper approaching.
  
"Who are you?" he cried. "What have you there?"  
  
Werper raised the hood of his burnoose that the fellow  
might see his face.
  
"This is the body of the woman," he explained.
"Mohammed Beyd has asked me to take it into the jungle,  
for he cannot bear to look upon the face of her whom he  
loved, and whom necessity compelled him to slay. He  
suffers greatly--he is inconsolable. It was with  
difficulty that I prevented him taking his own life."  
  
Across the speaker's shoulder, limp and frightened, the  
girl waited for the Arab's reply. He would laugh at  
this preposterous story; of that she was sure. In an  
instant he would unmask the deception that M. Frecoult  
was attempting to practice upon him, and they would  
both be lost. She tried to plan how best she might aid  
her would-be rescuer in the fight which must most  
certainly follow within a moment or two.
  
Then she heard the voice of the Arab as he replied to  
M. Frecoult.
  
"Are you going alone, or do you wish me to awaken  
someone to accompany you?" he asked, and his tone  
denoted not the least surprise that Mohammed Beyd had  
suddenly discovered such remarkably sensitive  
characteristics.
  
"I shall go alone," replied Werper, and he passed on  
and out through the narrow opening in the boma, by  
which the sentry stood.
  
A moment later he had entered among the boles of the  
trees with his burden, and when safely hidden from the  
sentry's view lowered the girl to her feet, with a low,  
"sh-sh," when she would have spoken.
  
Then he led her a little farther into the forest,  
halted beneath a large tree with spreading branches,  
buckled a cartridge belt and revolver about her waist,  
and assisted her to clamber into the lower branches.
  
"Tomorrow," he whispered, "as soon as I can elude them,  
I will return for you. Be brave, Lady Greystoke--we  
may yet escape."  
  
"Thank you," she replied in a low tone. "You have been  
very kind, and very brave."  
  
Werper did not reply, and the darkness of the night hid  
the scarlet flush of shame which swept upward across  
his face. Quickly he turned and made his way back to  
camp. The sentry, from his post, saw him enter his own  
tent; but he did not see him crawl under the canvas at  
the rear and sneak cautiously to the tent which the  
prisoner had occupied, where now lay the dead body of  
Mohammed Beyd.
  
Raising the lower edge of the rear wall, Werper crept  
within and approached the corpse. Without an instant's  
hesitation he seized the dead wrists and dragged the  
body upon its back to the point where he had just  
entered. On hands and knees he backed out as he had  
come in, drawing the corpse after him. Once outside  
the Belgian crept to the side of the tent and surveyed  
as much of the camp as lay within his vision--no one  
was watching.
  
Returning to the body, he lifted it to his shoulder,  
and risking all on a quick sally, ran swiftly across  
the narrow opening which separated the prisoner's tent  
from that of the dead man. Behind the silken wall he  
halted and lowered his burden to the ground, and there  
he remained motionless for several minutes, listening.
  
Satisfied, at last, that no one had seen him, he  
stooped and raised the bottom of the tent wall, backed  
in and dragged the thing that had been Mohammed Beyd  
after him. To the sleeping rugs of the dead raider he  
drew the corpse, then he fumbled about in the darkness  
until he had found Mohammed Beyd's revolver. With the  
weapon in his hand he returned to the side of the dead  
man, kneeled beside the bedding, and inserted his right  
hand with the weapon beneath the rugs, piled a number  
of thicknesses of the closely woven fabric over and  
about the revolver with his left hand. Then he pulled  
the trigger, and at the same time he coughed.
  
The muffled report could not have been heard above the  
sound of his cough by one directly outside the tent.
Werper was satisfied. A grim smile touched his lips as  
he withdrew the weapon from the rugs and placed it  
carefully in the right hand of the dead man, fixing  
three of the fingers around the grip and the index  
finger inside the trigger guard.
  
A moment longer he tarried to rearrange the disordered  
rugs, and then he left as he had entered, fastening  
down the rear wall of the tent as it had been before he  
had raised it.
  
Going to the tent of the prisoner he removed there also  
the evidence that someone might have come or gone  
beneath the rear wall. Then he returned to his own  
tent, entered, fastened down the canvas, and crawled  
into his blankets.
  
The following morning he was awakened by the excited  
voice of Mohammed Beyd's slave calling to him at the  
entrance of his tent.
  
"Quick! Quick!" cried the black in a frightened tone.
"Come! Mohammed Beyd is dead in his tent--dead by his  
own hand."  
  
Werper sat up quickly in his blankets at the first  
alarm, a startled expression upon his countenance; but  
at the last words of the black a sigh of relief escaped  
his lips and a slight smile replaced the tense lines  
upon his face.
  
"I come," he called to the slave, and drawing on his  
boots, rose and went out of his tent.
  
Excited Arabs and blacks were running from all parts of  
the camp toward the silken tent of Mohammed Beyd, and  
when Werper entered he found a number of the raiders  
crowded about the corpse, now cold and stiff.
  
Shouldering his way among them, the Belgian halted  
beside the dead body of the raider. He looked down in  
silence for a moment upon the still face, then he  
wheeled upon the Arabs.
  
"Who has done this thing?" he cried. His tone was both  
menacing and accusing. "Who has murdered Mohammed Beyd?"  
  
A sudden chorus of voices arose in tumultuous protest.
  
"Mohammed Beyd was not murdered," they cried. "He died  
by his own hand. This, and Allah, are our witnesses,"  
and they pointed to a revolver in the dead man's hand.
  
For a time Werper pretended to be skeptical; but at  
last permitted himself to be convinced that Mohammed  
Beyd had indeed killed himself in remorse for the death  
of the white woman he had, all unknown to his  
followers, loved so devotedly.
  
Werper himself wrapped the blankets of the dead man  
about the corpse, taking care to fold inward the  
scorched and bullet-torn fabric that had muffled the  
report of the weapon he had fired the night before.
Then six husky blacks carried the body out into the  
clearing where the camp stood, and deposited it in a  
shallow grave. As the loose earth fell upon the silent  
form beneath the tell-tale blankets, Albert Werper  
heaved another sigh of relief--his plan had worked out  
even better than he had dared hope.
  
With Achmet Zek and Mohammed Beyd both dead, the  
raiders were without a leader, and after a brief  
conference they decided to return into the north on  
visits to the various tribes to which they belonged,  
Werper, after learning the direction they intended  
taking, announced that for his part, he was going east  
to the coast, and as they knew of nothing he possessed  
which any of them coveted, they signified their  
willingness that he should go his way.
  
As they rode off, he sat his horse in the center of the  
clearing watching them disappear one by one into the  
jungle, and thanked his God that he had at last escaped  
their villainous clutches.
  
When he could no longer hear any sound of them, he  
turned to the right and rode into the forest toward the  
tree where he had hidden Lady Greystoke, and drawing  
rein beneath it, called up in a gay and hopeful voice a  
pleasant, "Good morning!"  
  
There was no reply, and though his eyes searched the  
thick foliage above him, he could see no sign of the  
girl. Dismounting, he quickly climbed into the tree,  
where he could obtain a view of all its branches. The  
tree was empty--Jane Clayton had vanished during the  
silent watches of the jungle night.
  
  
  
22  
  
Tarzan Recovers His Reason  
  
  
As Tarzan let the pebbles from the recovered pouch run  
through his fingers, his thoughts returned to the pile  
of yellow ingots about which the Arabs and the  
Abyssinians had waged their relentless battle.
  
What was there in common between that pile of dirty  
metal and the beautiful, sparkling pebbles that had  
formerly been in his pouch? What was the metal?
From whence had it come? What was that tantalizing  
half-conviction which seemed to demand the recognition of  
his memory that the yellow pile for which these men had  
fought and died had been intimately connected with his  
past--that it had been his?
  
What had been his past? He shook his head. Vaguely the  
memory of his apish childhood passed slowly in review--  
then came a strangely tangled mass of faces, figures  
and events which seemed to have no relation to Tarzan  
of the Apes, and yet which were, even in their  
fragmentary form, familiar.
  
Slowly and painfully, recollection was attempting to  
reassert itself, the hurt brain was mending, as the  
cause of its recent failure to function was being  
slowly absorbed or removed by the healing processes of  
perfect circulation.
  
The people who now passed before his mind's eye for the  
first time in weeks wore familiar faces; but yet he  
could neither place them in the niches they had once  
filled in his past life, nor call them by name. One  
was a fair she, and it was her face which most often  
moved through the tangled recollections of his  
convalescing brain. Who was she? What had she been to  
Tarzan of the Apes? He seemed to see her about the very  
spot upon which the pile of gold had been unearthed by  
the Abyssinians; but the surroundings were vastly  
different from those which now obtained.
  
There was a building--there were many buildings--and  
there were hedges, fences, and flowers. Tarzan  
puckered his brow in puzzled study of the wonderful  
problem. For an instant he seemed to grasp the whole  
of a true explanation, and then, just as success was  
within his grasp, the picture faded into a jungle scene  
where a naked, white youth danced in company with a  
band of hairy, primordial ape-things.
  
Tarzan shook his head and sighed. Why was it that he  
could not recollect? At least he was sure that in some  
way the pile of gold, the place where it lay, the  
subtle aroma of the elusive she he had been pursuing,  
the memory figure of the white woman, and he himself,  
were inextricably connected by the ties of a forgotten  
past.
  
If the woman belonged there, what better place to  
search or await her than the very spot which his broken  
recollections seemed to assign to her? It was worth  
trying. Tarzan slipped the thong of the empty pouch  
over his shoulder and started off through the trees in  
the direction of the plain.
  
At the outskirts of the forest he met the Arabs  
returning in search of Achmet Zek. Hiding, he let them  
pass, and then resumed his way toward the charred ruins  
of the home he had been almost upon the point of  
recalling to his memory.
  
His journey across the plain was interrupted by the  
discovery of a small herd of antelope in a little  
swale, where the cover and the wind were well combined  
to make stalking easy. A fat yearling rewarded a half  
hour of stealthy creeping and a sudden, savage rush,  
and it was late in the afternoon when the ape-man  
settled himself upon his haunches beside his kill to  
enjoy the fruits of his skill, his cunning, and his  
prowess.
  
His hunger satisfied, thirst next claimed his  
attention. The river lured him by the shortest path  
toward its refreshing waters, and when he had drunk,  
night already had fallen and he was some half mile or  
more down stream from the point where he had seen the  
pile of yellow ingots, and where he hoped to meet the  
memory woman, or find some clew to her whereabouts or  
her identity.
  
To the jungle bred, time is usually a matter of small  
moment, and haste, except when engendered by terror,  
by rage, or by hunger, is distasteful. Today was gone.
Therefore tomorrow, of which there was an infinite  
procession, would answer admirably for Tarzan's further  
quest. And, besides, the ape-man was tired and would  
sleep.
  
A tree afforded him the safety, seclusion and comforts  
of a well-appointed bedchamber, and to the chorus of  
the hunters and the hunted of the wild river bank he  
soon dropped off into deep slumber.
  
Morning found him both hungry and thirsty again, and  
dropping from his tree he made his way to the drinking  
place at the river's edge. There he found Numa, the  
lion, ahead of him. The big fellow was lapping the  
water greedily, and at the approach of Tarzan along the  
trail in his rear, he raised his head, and turning his  
gaze backward across his maned shoulders glared at the  
intruder. A low growl of warning rumbled from his  
throat; but Tarzan, guessing that the beast had but  
just quitted his kill and was well filled, merely made  
a slight detour and continued to the river, where he  
stopped a few yards above the tawny cat, and dropping  
upon his hands and knees plunged his face into the cool  
water. For a moment the lion continued to eye the man;  
then he resumed his drinking, and man and beast  
quenched their thirst side by side each apparently  
oblivious of the other's presence.
  
Numa was the first to finish. Raising his head, he  
gazed across the river for a few minutes with that  
stony fixity of attention which is a characteristic of  
his kind. But for the ruffling of his black mane to  
the touch of the passing breeze he might have been  
wrought from golden bronze, so motionless, so  
statuesque his pose.
  
A deep sigh from the cavernous lungs dispelled the  
illusion. The mighty head swung slowly around until  
the yellow eyes rested upon the man. The bristled lip  
curved upward, exposing yellow fangs. Another warning  
growl vibrated the heavy jowls, and the king of beasts  
turned majestically about and paced slowly up the trail  
into the dense reeds.
  
Tarzan of the Apes drank on, but from the corners of  
his gray eyes he watched the great brute's every move  
until he had disappeared from view, and, after, his  
keen ears marked the movements of the carnivore.
  
A plunge in the river was followed by a scant breakfast  
of eggs which chance discovered to him, and then he set  
off up river toward the ruins of the bungalow where the  
golden ingots had marked the center of yesterday's  
battle.
  
And when he came upon the spot, great was his surprise  
and consternation, for the yellow metal had  
disappeared. The earth, trampled by the feet of horses  
and men, gave no clew. It was as though the ingots had  
evaporated into thin air.
  
The ape-man was at a loss to know where to turn or what  
next to do. There was no sign of any spoor which might  
denote that the she had been here. The metal was gone,  
and if there was any connection between the she and the  
metal it seemed useless to wait for her now that the  
latter had been removed elsewhere.
  
Everything seemed to elude him--the pretty pebbles, the  
yellow metal, the she, his memory. Tarzan was  
disgusted. He would go back into the jungle and look  
for Chulk, and so he turned his steps once more toward  
the forest. He moved rapidly, swinging across the  
plain in a long, easy trot, and at the edge of the  
forest, taking to the trees with the agility and speed  
of a small monkey.
  
His direction was aimless--he merely raced on and on  
through the jungle, the joy of unfettered action his  
principal urge, with the hope of stumbling upon some  
clew to Chulk or the she, a secondary incentive.
  
For two days he roamed about, killing, eating, drinking  
and sleeping wherever inclination and the means to  
indulge it occurred simultaneously. It was upon the  
morning of the third day that the scent spoor of horse  
and man were wafted faintly to his nostrils. Instantly  
he altered his course to glide silently through the  
branches in the direction from which the scent came.
  
It was not long before he came upon a solitary horseman  
riding toward the east. Instantly his eyes confirmed  
what his nose had previously suspected--the rider was  
he who had stolen his pretty pebbles. The light of  
rage flared suddenly in the gray eyes as the ape-man  
dropped lower among the branches until he moved almost  
directly above the unconscious Werper.
  
There was a quick leap, and the Belgian felt a heavy  
body hurtle onto the rump of his terror-stricken mount.
The horse, snorting, leaped forward. Giant arms  
encircled the rider, and in the twinkling of an eye he  
was dragged from his saddle to find himself lying in  
the narrow trail with a naked, white giant kneeling  
upon his breast.
  
Recognition came to Werper with the first glance at his  
captor's face, and a pallor of fear overspread his  
features. Strong fingers were at his throat, fingers  
of steel. He tried to cry out, to plead for his life;  
but the cruel fingers denied him speech, as they were  
as surely denying him life.
  
"The pretty pebbles?" cried the man upon his breast.
"What did you with the pretty pebbles--with Tarzan's  
pretty pebbles?"  
  
The fingers relaxed to permit a reply. For some time  
Werper could only choke and cough--at last he regained  
the powers of speech.
  
"Achmet Zek, the Arab, stole them from me," he cried;  
"he made me give up the pouch and the pebbles."  
  
"I saw all that," replied Tarzan; "but the pebbles in  
the pouch were not the pebbles of Tarzan--they were  
only such pebbles as fill the bottoms of the rivers,  
and the shelving banks beside them. Even the Arab  
would not have them, for he threw them away in anger  
when he had looked upon them. It is my pretty pebbles  
that I want--where are they?"  
  
"I do not know, I do not know," cried Werper. "I gave  
them to Achmet Zek or he would have killed me. A few  
minutes later he followed me along the trail to slay  
me, although he had promised to molest me no further,  
and I shot and killed him; but the pouch was not upon  
his person and though I searched about the jungle for  
some time I could not find it."  
  
"I found it, I tell you," growled Tarzan, "and I also  
found the pebbles which Achmet Zek had thrown away in  
disgust. They were not Tarzan's pebbles. You have  
hidden them! Tell me where they are or I will kill  
you," and the brown fingers of the ape-man closed a  
little tighter upon the throat of his victim.
  
Werper struggled to free himself. "My God, Lord  
Greystoke," he managed to scream, "would you commit  
murder for a handful of stones?"  
  
The fingers at his throat relaxed, a puzzled, far-away  
expression softened the gray eyes.
  
"Lord Greystoke!" repeated the ape-man. "Lord  
Greystoke! Who is Lord Greystoke? Where have I heard  
that name before?"  
  
"Why man, you are Lord Greystoke," cried the Belgian.
"You were injured by a falling rock when the earthquake  
shattered the passage to the underground chamber to  
which you and your black Waziri had come to fetch  
golden ingots back to your bungalow. The blow  
shattered your memory. You are John Clayton, Lord  
Greystoke--don't you remember?"  
  
"John Clayton, Lord Greystoke!" repeated Tarzan. Then  
for a moment he was silent. Presently his hand went  
falteringly to his forehead, an expression of  
wonderment filled his eyes--of wonderment and sudden  
understanding. The forgotten name had reawakened the  
returning memory that had been struggling to reassert  
itself. The ape-man relinquished his grasp upon the  
throat of the Belgian, and leaped to his feet.
  
"God!" he cried, and then, "Jane!" Suddenly he turned  
toward Werper. "My wife?" he asked. "What has become  
of her? The farm is in ruins. You know. You have had  
something to do with all this. You followed me to  
Opar, you stole the jewels which I thought but pretty  
pebbles. You are a crook! Do not try to tell me that  
you are not."  
  
"He is worse than a crook," said a quiet voice close  
behind them.
  
Tarzan turned in astonishment to see a tall man in  
uniform standing in the trail a few paces from him.
Back of the man were a number of black soldiers in the  
uniform of the Congo Free State.
  
"He is a murderer, Monsieur," continued the officer.
"I have followed him for a long time to take him back  
to stand trial for the killing of his superior  
officer."  
  
Werper was upon his feet now, gazing, white and  
trembling, at the fate which had overtaken him even in  
the fastness of the labyrinthine jungle. Instinctively  
he turned to flee; but Tarzan of the Apes reached out a  
strong hand and grasped him by the shoulder.
  
"Wait!" said the ape-man to his captive. "This  
gentleman wishes you, and so do I. When I am through  
with you, he may have you. Tell me what has become of  
my wife."  
  
The Belgian officer eyed the almost naked, white giant  
with curiosity. He noted the strange contrast of  
primitive weapons and apparel, and the easy, fluent  
French which the man spoke. The former denoted the  
lowest, the latter the highest type of culture. He  
could not quite determine the social status of this  
strange creature; but he knew that he did not relish  
the easy assurance with which the fellow presumed to  
dictate when he might take possession of the prisoner.
  
"Pardon me," he said, stepping forward and placing his  
hand on Werper's other shoulder; "but this gentleman is  
my prisoner. He must come with me."  
  
"When I am through with him," replied Tarzan, quietly.
  
The officer turned and beckoned to the soldiers  
standing in the trail behind him. A company of  
uniformed blacks stepped quickly forward and pushing  
past the three, surrounded the ape-man and his captive.
  
"Both the law and the power to enforce it are upon my  
side," announced the officer. "Let us have no trouble.
If you have a grievance against this man you may return  
with me and enter your charge regularly before an  
authorized tribunal."  
  
"Your legal rights are not above suspicion, my friend,"  
replied Tarzan, "and your power to enforce your  
commands are only apparent--not real. You have  
presumed to enter British territory with an armed  
force. Where is your authority for this invasion?
Where are the extradition papers which warrant the  
arrest of this man? And what assurance have you that I  
cannot bring an armed force about you that will prevent  
your return to the Congo Free State?"  
  
The Belgian lost his temper. "I have no disposition to  
argue with a naked savage," he cried. "Unless you wish  
to be hurt you will not interfere with me. Take the  
prisoner, Sergeant!"  
  
Werper raised his lips close to Tarzan's ear. "Keep me  
from them, and I can show you the very spot where I saw  
your wife last night," he whispered. "She cannot be  
far from here at this very minute."  
  
The soldiers, following the signal from their sergeant,  
closed in to seize Werper. Tarzan grabbed the Belgian  
about the waist, and bearing him beneath his arm as he  
might have borne a sack of flour, leaped forward in an  
attempt to break through the cordon. His right fist  
caught the nearest soldier upon the jaw and sent him  
hurtling backward upon his fellows. Clubbed rifles  
were torn from the hands of those who barred his way,  
and right and left the black soldiers stumbled aside in  
the face of the ape-man's savage break for liberty.
  
So completely did the blacks surround the two that they  
dared not fire for fear of hitting one of their own  
number, and Tarzan was already through them and upon  
the point of dodging into the concealing mazes of the  
jungle when one who had sneaked upon him from behind  
struck him a heavy blow upon the head with a rifle.
  
In an instant the ape-man was down and a dozen black  
soldiers were upon his back. When he regained  
consciousness he found himself securely bound, as was  
Werper also. The Belgian officer, success having  
crowned his efforts, was in good humor, and inclined to  
chaff his prisoners about the ease with which they had  
been captured; but from Tarzan of the Apes he elicited  
no response. Werper, however, was voluble in his  
protests. He explained that Tarzan was an English  
lord; but the officer only laughed at the assertion,  
and advised his prisoner to save his breath for his  
defense in court.
  
As soon as Tarzan regained his senses and it was found  
that he was not seriously injured, the prisoners were  
hastened into line and the return march toward the  
Congo Free State boundary commenced.
  
Toward evening the column halted beside a stream, made  
camp and prepared the evening meal. From the thick  
foliage of the nearby jungle a pair of fierce eyes  
watched the activities of the uniformed blacks with  
silent intensity and curiosity. From beneath beetling  
brows the creature saw the boma constructed, the fires  
built, and the supper prepared.
  
Tarzan and Werper had been lying bound behind a small  
pile of knapsacks from the time that the company had  
halted; but with the preparation of the meal completed,  
their guard ordered them to rise and come forward to  
one of the fires where their hands would be unfettered  
that they might eat.
  
As the giant ape-man rose, a startled expression of  
recognition entered the eyes of the watcher in the  
jungle, and a low guttural broke from the savage lips.
Instantly Tarzan was alert, but the answering growl  
died upon his lips, suppressed by the fear that it  
might arouse the suspicions of the soldiers.
  
Suddenly an inspiration came to him. He turned toward  
Werper.
  
"I am going to speak to you in a loud voice and in a  
tongue which you do not understand. Appear to listen  
intently to what I say, and occasionally mumble  
something as though replying in the same language--our  
escape may hinge upon the success of your efforts."  
  
Werper nodded in assent and understanding, and  
immediately there broke from the lips of his companion  
a strange jargon which might have been compared with  
equal propriety to the barking and growling of a dog  
and the chattering of monkeys.
  
The nearer soldiers looked in surprise at the ape-man.
Some of them laughed, while others drew away in evident  
superstitious fear. The officer approached the  
prisoners while Tarzan was still jabbering, and halted  
behind them, listening in perplexed interest. When  
Werper mumbled some ridiculous jargon in reply his  
curiosity broke bounds, and he stepped forward,  
demanding to know what language it was that they spoke.
  
Tarzan had gauged the measure of the man's culture from  
the nature and quality of his conversation during the  
march, and he rested the success of his reply upon the  
estimate he had made.
  
"Greek," he explained.
  
"Oh, I thought it was Greek," replied the officer; "but  
it has been so many years since I studied it that I was  
not sure. In future, however, I will thank you to  
speak in a language which I am more familiar with."  
  
Werper turned his head to hide a grin, whispering to  
Tarzan: "It was Greek to him all right--and to me, too."  
  
But one of the black soldiers mumbled in a low voice to  
a companion: "I have heard those sounds before--once at  
night when I was lost in the jungle, I heard the hairy  
men of the trees talking among themselves, and their  
words were like the words of this white man. I wish  
that we had not found him. He is not a man at all--he  
is a bad spirit, and we shall have bad luck if we do  
not let him go," and the fellow rolled his eyes  
fearfully toward the jungle.
  
His companion laughed nervously, and moved away, to  
repeat the conversation, with variations and  
exaggerations, to others of the black soldiery, so that  
it was not long before a frightful tale of black magic  
and sudden death was woven about the giant prisoner,  
and had gone the rounds of the camp.
  
And deep in the gloomy jungle amidst the darkening  
shadows of the falling night a hairy, manlike creature  
swung swiftly southward upon some secret mission of his  
own.
  
  
  
23  
  
A Night of Terror  
  
  
To Jane Clayton, waiting in the tree where Werper had  
placed her, it seemed that the long night would never  
end, yet end it did at last, and within an hour of the  
coming of dawn her spirits leaped with renewed hope at  
sight of a solitary horseman approaching along the  
trail.
  
The flowing burnoose, with its loose hood, hid both the  
face and the figure of the rider; but that it was M.
Frecoult the girl well knew, since he had been garbed  
as an Arab, and he alone might be expected to seek her  
hiding place.
  
That which she saw relieved the strain of the long  
night vigil; but there was much that she did not see.
She did not see the black face beneath the white hood,  
nor the file of ebon horsemen beyond the trail's bend  
riding slowly in the wake of their leader. These  
things she did not see at first, and so she leaned  
downward toward the approaching rider, a cry of welcome  
forming in her throat.
  
At the first word the man looked up, reining in in  
surprise, and as she saw the black face of Abdul  
Mourak, the Abyssinian, she shrank back in terror among  
the branches; but it was too late. The man had seen  
her, and now he called to her to descend. At first she  
refused; but when a dozen black cavalrymen drew up  
behind their leader, and at Abdul Mourak's command one  
of them started to climb the tree after her she  
realized that resistance was futile, and came slowly  
down to stand upon the ground before this new captor  
and plead her cause in the name of justice and humanity.
  
Angered by recent defeat, and by the loss of the gold,  
the jewels, and his prisoners, Abdul Mourak was in no  
mood to be influenced by any appeal to those softer  
sentiments to which, as a matter of fact, he was almost  
a stranger even under the most favourable conditions.
  
He looked for degradation and possible death in  
punishment for his failures and his misfortunes when he  
should have returned to his native land and made his  
report to Menelek; but an acceptable gift might temper  
the wrath of the emperor, and surely this fair flower  
of another race should be gratefully received by the  
black ruler!
  
When Jane Clayton had concluded her appeal, Abdul  
Mourak replied briefly that he would promise her  
protection; but that he must take her to his emperor.
The girl did not need ask him why, and once again hope  
died within her breast. Resignedly she permitted  
herself to be lifted to a seat behind one of the  
troopers, and again, under new masters, her journey was  
resumed toward what she now began to believe was her  
inevitable fate.
  
Abdul Mourak, bereft of his guides by the battle he had  
waged against the raiders, and himself unfamiliar with  
the country, had wandered far from the trail he should  
have followed, and as a result had made but little  
progress toward the north since the beginning of his  
flight. Today he was beating toward the west in the  
hope of coming upon a village where he might obtain  
guides; but night found him still as far from a  
realization of his hopes as had the rising sun.
  
It was a dispirited company which went into camp,  
waterless and hungry, in the dense jungle. Attracted  
by the horses, lions roared about the boma, and to  
their hideous din was added the shrill neighs of the  
terror-stricken beasts they hunted. There was little  
sleep for man or beast, and the sentries were doubled  
that there might be enough on duty both to guard  
against the sudden charge of an overbold, or overhungry  
lion, and to keep the fire blazing which was an even  
more effectual barrier against them than the thorny boma.
  
It was well past midnight, and as yet Jane Clayton,  
notwithstanding that she had passed a sleepless night  
the night before, had scarcely more than dozed. A  
sense of impending danger seemed to hang like a black  
pall over the camp. The veteran troopers of the black  
emperor were nervous and ill at ease. Abdul Mourak  
left his blankets a dozen times to pace restlessly back  
and forth between the tethered horses and the crackling  
fire. The girl could see his great frame silhouetted  
against the lurid glare of the flames, and she guessed  
from the quick, nervous movements of the man that he  
was afraid.
  
The roaring of the lions rose in sudden fury until the  
earth trembled to the hideous chorus. The horses  
shrilled their neighs of terror as they lay back upon  
their halter ropes in their mad endeavors to break  
loose. A trooper, braver than his fellows, leaped  
among the kicking, plunging, fear-maddened beasts in a  
futile attempt to quiet them. A lion, large, and  
fierce, and courageous, leaped almost to the boma, full  
in the bright light from the fire. A sentry raised his  
piece and fired, and the little leaden pellet  
unstoppered the vials of hell upon the terror-stricken  
camp.
  
The shot ploughed a deep and painful furrow in the  
lion's side, arousing all the bestial fury of the  
little brain; but abating not a whit the power and  
vigor of the great body.
  
Unwounded, the boma and the flames might have turned  
him back; but now the pain and the rage wiped caution  
from his mind, and with a loud, and angry roar he  
topped the barrier with an easy leap and was among the  
horses.
  
What had been pandemonium before became now an  
indescribable tumult of hideous sound. The stricken  
horse upon which the lion leaped shrieked out its  
terror and its agony. Several about it broke their  
tethers and plunged madly about the camp. Men leaped  
from their blankets and with guns ready ran toward the  
picket line, and then from the jungle beyond the boma a  
dozen lions, emboldened by the example of their fellow  
charged fearlessly upon the camp.
  
Singly and in twos and threes they leaped the boma,  
until the little enclosure was filled with cursing men  
and screaming horses battling for their lives with the  
green-eyed devils of the jungle.
  
With the charge of the first lion, Jane Clayton had  
scrambled to her feet, and now she stood horror-struck  
at the scene of savage slaughter that swirled and  
eddied about her. Once a bolting horse knocked her  
down, and a moment later a lion, leaping in pursuit of  
another terror-stricken animal, brushed her so closely  
that she was again thrown from her feet.
  
Amidst the cracking of the rifles and the growls of the  
carnivora rose the death screams of stricken men and  
horses as they were dragged down by the blood-mad cats.
The leaping carnivora and the plunging horses,  
prevented any concerted action by the Abyssinians--it  
was every man for himself--and in the melee, the  
defenseless woman was either forgotten or ignored by  
her black captors. A score of times was her life  
menaced by charging lions, by plunging horses, or by  
the wildly fired bullets of the frightened troopers,  
yet there was no chance of escape, for now with the  
fiendish cunning of their kind, the tawny hunters  
commenced to circle about their prey, hemming them  
within a ring of mighty, yellow fangs, and sharp, long  
talons. Again and again an individual lion would dash  
suddenly among the frightened men and horses, and  
occasionally a horse, goaded to frenzy by pain or  
terror, succeeded in racing safely through the circling  
lions, leaping the boma, and escaping into the jungle;  
but for the men and the woman no such escape was  
possible.
  
A horse, struck by a stray bullet, fell beside Jane  
Clayton, a lion leaped across the expiring beast full  
upon the breast of a black trooper just beyond. The  
man clubbed his rifle and struck futilely at the broad  
head, and then he was down and the carnivore was  
standing above him.
  
Shrieking out his terror, the soldier clawed with puny  
fingers at the shaggy breast in vain endeavor to push  
away the grinning jaws. The lion lowered his head, the  
gaping fangs closed with a single sickening crunch upon  
the fear-distorted face, and turning strode back across  
the body of the dead horse dragging his limp and bloody  
burden with him.
  
Wide-eyed the girl stood watching. She saw the  
carnivore step upon the corpse, stumblingly, as the  
grisly thing swung between its forepaws, and her eyes  
remained fixed in fascination while the beast passed  
within a few paces of her.
  
The interference of the body seemed to enrage the lion.
He shook the inanimate clay venomously. He growled and  
roared hideously at the dead, insensate thing, and then  
he dropped it and raised his head to look about in  
search of some living victim upon which to wreak his  
ill temper. His yellow eyes fastened themselves  
balefully upon the figure of the girl, the bristling  
lips raised, disclosing the grinning fangs. A terrific  
roar broke from the savage throat, and the great beast  
crouched to spring upon this new and helpless victim.
  
Quiet had fallen early upon the camp where Tarzan and  
Werper lay securely bound. Two nervous sentries paced  
their beats, their eyes rolling often toward the  
impenetrable shadows of the gloomy jungle. The others  
slept or tried to sleep--all but the ape-man. Silently  
and powerfully he strained at the bonds which fettered  
his wrists.
  
The muscles knotted beneath the smooth, brown skin of  
his arms and shoulders, the veins stood out upon his  
temples from the force of his exertions--a strand  
parted, another and another, and one hand was free.
Then from the jungle came a low guttural, and the  
ape-man became suddenly a silent, rigid statue, with ears  
and nostrils straining to span the black void where his  
eyesight could not reach.
  
Again came the uncanny sound from the thick verdure  
beyond the camp. A sentry halted abruptly, straining  
his eyes into the gloom. The kinky wool upon his head  
stiffened and raised. He called to his comrade in a  
hoarse whisper.
  
"Did you hear it?" he asked.
  
The other came closer, trembling.
  
"Hear what?"  
  
Again was the weird sound repeated, followed almost  
immediately by a similar and answering sound from the  
camp. The sentries drew close together, watching the  
black spot from which the voice seemed to come.
  
Trees overhung the boma at this point which was upon  
the opposite side of the camp from them. They dared  
not approach. Their terror even prevented them from  
arousing their fellows--they could only stand in frozen  
fear and watch for the fearsome apparition they  
momentarily expected to see leap from the jungle.
  
Nor had they long to wait. A dim, bulky form dropped  
lightly from the branches of a tree into the camp. At  
sight of it one of the sentries recovered command of  
his muscles and his voice. Screaming loudly to awaken  
the sleeping camp, he leaped toward the flickering  
watch fire and threw a mass of brush upon it.
  
The white officer and the black soldiers sprang from  
their blankets. The flames leaped high upon the  
rejuvenated fire, lighting the entire camp, and the  
awakened men shrank back in superstitious terror from  
the sight that met their frightened and astonished  
vision.
  
A dozen huge and hairy forms loomed large beneath the  
trees at the far side of the enclosure. The white  
giant, one hand freed, had struggled to his knees and  
was calling to the frightful, nocturnal visitors in a  
hideous medley of bestial gutturals, barkings and  
growlings.
  
Werper had managed to sit up. He, too, saw the savage  
faces of the approaching anthropoids and scarcely knew  
whether to be relieved or terror-stricken.
  
Growling, the great apes leaped forward toward Tarzan  
and Werper. Chulk led them. The Belgian officer  
called to his men to fire upon the intruders; but the  
Negroes held back, filled as they were with  
superstitious terror of the hairy treemen, and with the  
conviction that the white giant who could thus summon  
the beasts of the jungle to his aid was more than human.
  
Drawing his own weapon, the officer fired, and Tarzan  
fearing the effect of the noise upon his really timid  
friends called to them to hasten and fulfill his commands.
  
A couple of the apes turned and fled at the sound of  
the firearm; but Chulk and a half dozen others waddled  
rapidly forward, and, following the ape-man's  
directions, seized both him and Werper and bore them  
off toward the jungle.
  
By dint of threats, reproaches and profanity the  
Belgian officer succeeded in persuading his trembling  
command to fire a volley after the retreating apes. A  
ragged, straggling volley it was, but at least one of  
its bullets found a mark, for as the jungle closed  
about the hairy rescuers, Chulk, who bore Werper across  
one broad shoulder, staggered and fell.
  
In an instant he was up again; but the Belgian guessed  
from his unsteady gait that he was hard hit. He lagged  
far behind the others, and it was several minutes after  
they had halted at Tarzan's command before he came  
slowly up to them, reeling from side to side, and at  
last falling again beneath the weight of his burden and  
the shock of his wound.
  
As Chulk went down he dropped Werper, so that the  
latter fell face downward with the body of the ape  
lying half across him. In this position the Belgian  
felt something resting against his hands, which were  
still bound at his back--something that was not a part  
of the hairy body of the ape.
  
Mechanically the man's fingers felt of the object  
resting almost in their grasp--it was a soft pouch,  
filled with small, hard particles. Werper gasped in  
wonderment as recognition filtered through the  
incredulity of his mind. It was impossible, and yet--  
it was true!
  
Feverishly he strove to remove the pouch from the ape  
and transfer it to his own possession; but the  
restricted radius to which his bonds held his hands  
prevented this, though he did succeed in tucking the  
pouch with its precious contents inside the waist band  
of his trousers.
  
Tarzan, sitting at a short distance, was busy with the  
remaining knots of the cords which bound him.
Presently he flung aside the last of them and rose to  
his feet. Approaching Werper he knelt beside him. For  
a moment he examined the ape.
  
"Quite dead," he announced. "It is too bad--he was a  
splendid creature," and then he turned to the work of  
liberating the Belgian.
  
He freed his hands first, and then commenced upon the  
knots at his ankles.
  
"I can do the rest," said the Belgian. "I have a small  
pocketknife which they overlooked when they searched  
me," and in this way he succeeded in ridding himself of  
the ape-man's attentions that he might find and open  
his little knife and cut the thong which fastened the  
pouch about Chulk's shoulder, and transfer it from his  
waist band to the breast of his shirt. Then he rose  
and approached Tarzan.
  
Once again had avarice claimed him. Forgotten were the  
good intentions which the confidence of Jane Clayton in  
his honor had awakened. What she had done, the little  
pouch had undone. How it had come upon the person of  
the great ape, Werper could not imagine, unless it had  
been that the anthropoid had witnessed his fight with  
Achmet Zek, seen the Arab with the pouch and taken it  
away from him; but that this pouch contained the jewels  
of Opar, Werper was positive, and that was all that  
interested him greatly.
  
"Now," said the ape-man, "keep your promise to me.
Lead me to the spot where you last saw my wife."  
  
It was slow work pushing through the jungle in the dead  
of night behind the slow-moving Belgian. The ape-man  
chafed at the delay, but the European could not swing  
through the trees as could his more agile and muscular  
companions, and so the speed of all was limited to that  
of the slowest.
  
The apes trailed out behind the two white men for a  
matter of a few miles; but presently their interest  
lagged, the foremost of them halted in a little glade  
and the others stopped at his side. There they sat  
peering from beneath their shaggy brows at the figures  
of the two men forging steadily ahead, until the latter  
disappeared in the leafy trail beyond the clearing.
Then an ape sought a comfortable couch beneath a tree,  
and one by one the others followed his example, so that  
Werper and Tarzan continued their journey alone; nor  
was the latter either surprised or concerned.
  
The two had gone but a short distance beyond the glade  
where the apes had deserted them, when the roaring of  
distant lions fell upon their ears. The ape-man paid  
no attention to the familiar sounds until the crack of  
a rifle came faintly from the same direction, and when  
this was followed by the shrill neighing of horses, and  
an almost continuous fusillade of shots intermingled  
with increased and savage roaring of a large troop of  
lions, he became immediately concerned.
  
"Someone is having trouble over there," he said,  
turning toward Werper. "I'll have to go to them--they  
may be friends."  
  
"Your wife might be among them," suggested the Belgian,  
for since he had again come into possession of the  
pouch he had become fearful and suspicious of the  
ape-man, and in his mind had constantly revolved many plans  
for eluding this giant Englishman, who was at once his  
savior and his captor.
  
At the suggestion Tarzan started as though struck with  
a whip.
  
"God!" he cried, "she might be, and the lions are  
attacking them--they are in the camp. I can tell from  
the screams of the horses--and there! that was the cry  
of a man in his death agonies. Stay here man--I will  
come back for you. I must go first to them," and  
swinging into a tree the lithe figure swung rapidly off  
into the night with the speed and silence of a  
disembodied spirit.
  
For a moment Werper stood where the ape-man had left  
him. Then a cunning smile crossed his lips. "Stay  
here?" he asked himself. "Stay here and wait until you  
return to find and take these jewels from me? Not I, my  
friend, not I," and turning abruptly eastward Albert  
Werper passed through the foliage of a hanging vine and  
out of the sight of his fellow-man--forever.
  
  
  
24  
  
Home  
  
  
As Tarzan of the Apes hurtled through the trees the  
discordant sounds of the battle between the Abyssinians  
and the lions smote more and more distinctly upon his  
sensitive ears, redoubling his assurance that the  
plight of the human element of the conflict was  
critical indeed.
  
At last the glare of the camp fire shone plainly  
through the intervening trees, and a moment later the  
giant figure of the ape-man paused upon an overhanging  
bough to look down upon the bloody scene of carnage  
below.
  
His quick eye took in the whole scene with a single  
comprehending glance and stopped upon the figure of a  
woman standing facing a great lion across the carcass  
of a horse.
  
The carnivore was crouching to spring as Tarzan  
discovered the tragic tableau. Numa was almost beneath  
the branch upon which the ape-man stood, naked and  
unarmed. There was not even an instant's hesitation  
upon the part of the latter--it was as though he had  
not even paused in his swift progress through the  
trees, so lightning-like his survey and comprehension  
of the scene below him--so instantaneous his consequent  
action.
  
So hopeless had seemed her situation to her that Jane  
Clayton but stood in lethargic apathy awaiting the  
impact of the huge body that would hurl her to the  
ground--awaiting the momentary agony that cruel talons  
and grisly fangs may inflict before the coming of the  
merciful oblivion which would end her sorrow and her  
suffering.
  
What use to attempt escape? As well face the hideous  
end as to be dragged down from behind in futile flight.
She did not even close her eyes to shut out the  
frightful aspect of that snarling face, and so it was  
that as she saw the lion preparing to charge she saw,  
too, a bronzed and mighty figure leap from an  
overhanging tree at the instant that Numa rose in his  
spring.
  
Wide went her eyes in wonder and incredulity, as she  
beheld this seeming apparition risen from the dead.
The lion was forgotten--her own peril--everything save  
the wondrous miracle of this strange recrudescence.
With parted lips, with palms tight pressed against her  
heaving bosom, the girl leaned forward, large-eyed,  
enthralled by the vision of her dead mate.
  
She saw the sinewy form leap to the shoulder of the  
lion, hurtling against the leaping beast like a huge,  
animate battering ram. She saw the carnivore brushed  
aside as he was almost upon her, and in the instant she  
realized that no substanceless wraith could thus turn  
the charge of a maddened lion with brute force greater  
than the brute's.
  
Tarzan, her Tarzan, lived! A cry of unspeakable  
gladness broke from her lips, only to die in terror as  
she saw the utter defenselessness of her mate, and  
realized that the lion had recovered himself and was  
turning upon Tarzan in mad lust for vengeance.
  
At the ape-man's feet lay the discarded rifle of the  
dead Abyssinian whose mutilated corpse sprawled where  
Numa had abandoned it. The quick glance which had  
swept the ground for some weapon of defense discovered  
it, and as the lion reared upon his hind legs to seize  
the rash man-thing who had dared interpose its puny  
strength between Numa and his prey, the heavy stock  
whirred through the air and splintered upon the broad  
forehead.
  
Not as an ordinary mortal might strike a blow did  
Tarzan of the Apes strike; but with the maddened frenzy  
of a wild beast backed by the steel thews which his  
wild, arboreal boyhood had bequeathed him. When the  
blow ended the splintered stock was driven through the  
splintered skull into the savage brain, and the heavy  
iron barrel was bent into a rude V.
  
In the instant that the lion sank, lifeless, to the  
ground, Jane Clayton threw herself into the eager arms  
of her husband. For a brief instant he strained her  
dear form to his breast, and then a glance about him  
awakened the ape-man to the dangers which still  
surrounded them.
  
Upon every hand the lions were still leaping upon new  
victims. Fear-maddened horses still menaced them with  
their erratic bolting from one side of the enclosure to  
the other. Bullets from the guns of the defenders who  
remained alive but added to the perils of their  
situation.
  
To remain was to court death. Tarzan seized Jane  
Clayton and lifted her to a broad shoulder. The blacks  
who had witnessed his advent looked on in amazement as  
they saw the naked giant leap easily into the branches  
of the tree from whence he had dropped so uncannily  
upon the scene, and vanish as he had come, bearing away  
their prisoner with him.
  
They were too well occupied in self-defense to attempt  
to halt him, nor could they have done so other than by  
the wasting of a precious bullet which might be needed  
the next instant to turn the charge of a savage foe.
  
And so, unmolested, Tarzan passed from the camp of the  
Abyssinians, from which the din of conflict followed  
him deep into the jungle until distance gradually  
obliterated it entirely.
  
Back to the spot where he had left Werper went the  
ape-man, joy in his heart now, where fear and sorrow had  
so recently reigned; and in his mind a determination to  
forgive the Belgian and aid him in making good his  
escape. But when he came to the place, Werper was  
gone, and though Tarzan called aloud many times he  
received no reply. Convinced that the man had  
purposely eluded him for reasons of his own, John  
Clayton felt that he was under no obligations to expose  
his wife to further danger and discomfort in the  
prosecution of a more thorough search for the missing  
Belgian.
  
"He has acknowledged his guilt by his flight, Jane," he  
said. "We will let him go to lie in the bed that he  
has made for himself."  
  
Straight as homing pigeons, the two made their way  
toward the ruin and desolation that had once been the  
center of their happy lives, and which was soon to be  
restored by the willing black hands of laughing  
laborers, made happy again by the return of the master  
and mistress whom they had mourned as dead.
  
Past the village of Achmet Zek their way led them, and  
there they found but the charred remains of the  
palisade and the native huts, still smoking, as mute  
evidence of the wrath and vengeance of a powerful  
enemy.
  
"The Waziri," commented Tarzan with a grim smile.
  
"God bless them!" cried Jane Clayton.
  
"They cannot be far ahead of us," said Tarzan, "Basuli  
and the others. The gold is gone and the jewels of  
Opar, Jane; but we have each other and the Waziri--and  
we have love and loyalty and friendship. And what are  
gold and jewels to these?"  
  
"If only poor Mugambi lived," she replied, "and those  
other brave fellows who sacrificed their lives in vain  
endeavor to protect me!"  
  
In the silence of mingled joy and sorrow they passed  
along through the familiar jungle, and as the afternoon  
was waning there came faintly to the ears of the  
ape-man the murmuring cadence of distant voices.
  
"We are nearing the Waziri, Jane," he said. "I can  
hear them ahead of us. They are going into camp for  
the night, I imagine."  
  
A half hour later the two came upon a horde of ebon  
warriors which Basuli had collected for his war of  
vengeance upon the raiders. With them were the  
captured women of the tribe whom they had found in the  
village of Achmet Zek, and tall, even among the giant  
Waziri, loomed a familiar black form at the side of  
Basuli. It was Mugambi, whom Jane had thought dead  
amidst the charred ruins of the bungalow.
  
Ah, such a reunion! Long into the night the dancing and  
the singing and the laughter awoke the echoes of the  
somber wood. Again and again were the stories of their  
various adventures retold. Again and once again they  
fought their battles with savage beast and savage man,  
and dawn was already breaking when Basuli, for the  
fortieth time, narrated how he and a handful of his  
warriors had watched the battle for the golden ingots  
which the Abyssinians of Abdul Mourak had waged against  
the Arab raiders of Achmet Zek, and how, when the  
victors had ridden away they had sneaked out of the  
river reeds and stolen away with the precious ingots to  
hide them where no robber eye ever could discover them.
  
Pieced out from the fragments of their various  
experiences with the Belgian the truth concerning the  
malign activities of Albert Werper became apparent.
Only Lady Greystoke found aught to praise in the  
conduct of the man, and it was difficult even for her  
to reconcile his many heinous acts with this one  
evidence of chivalry and honor.
  
"Deep in the soul of every man," said Tarzan, "must  
lurk the germ of righteousness. It was your own  
virtue, Jane, rather even than your helplessness which  
awakened for an instant the latent decency of this  
degraded man. In that one act he retrieved himself,  
and when he is called to face his Maker may it outweigh  
in the balance, all the sins he has committed."  
  
And Jane Clayton breathed a fervent, "Amen!"  
  
Months had passed. The labor of the Waziri and the  
gold of Opar had rebuilt and refurnished the wasted  
homestead of the Greystokes. Once more the simple life  
of the great African farm went on as it had before the  
coming of the Belgian and the Arab. Forgotten were the  
sorrows and dangers of yesterday.
  
For the first time in months Lord Greystoke felt that  
he might indulge in a holiday, and so a great hunt was  
organized that the faithful laborers might feast in  
celebration of the completion of their work.
  
In itself the hunt was a success, and ten days after  
its inauguration, a well-laden safari took up its  
return march toward the Waziri plain. Lord and Lady  
Greystoke with Basuli and Mugambi rode together at the  
head of the column, laughing and talking together in  
that easy familiarity which common interests and mutual  
respect breed between honest and intelligent men of any  
races.
  
Jane Clayton's horse shied suddenly at an object half  
hidden in the long grasses of an open space in the  
jungle. Tarzan's keen eyes sought quickly for an  
explanation of the animal's action.
  
"What have we here?" he cried, swinging from his  
saddle, and a moment later the four were grouped about  
a human skull and a little litter of whitened human  
bones.
  
Tarzan stooped and lifted a leathern pouch from the  
grisly relics of a man. The hard outlines of the  
contents brought an exclamation of surprise to his  
lips.
  
"The jewels of Opar!" he cried, holding the pouch  
aloft, "and," pointing to the bones at his feet, "all  
that remains of Werper, the Belgian."  
  
Mugambi laughed. "Look within, Bwana," he cried, "and  
you will see what are the jewels of Opar--you will see  
what the Belgian gave his life for," and the black  
laughed aloud.
  
"Why do you laugh?" asked Tarzan.
  
"Because," replied Mugambi, "I filled the Belgian's  
pouch with river gravel before I escaped the camp of  
the Abyssinians whose prisoners we were. I left the  
Belgian only worthless stones, while I brought away  
with me the jewels he had stolen from you. That they  
were afterward stolen from me while I slept in the  
jungle is my shame and my disgrace; but at least the  
Belgian lost them--open his pouch and you will see."  
  
Tarzan untied the thong which held the mouth of the  
leathern bag closed, and permitted the contents to  
trickle slowly forth into his open palm. Mugambi's  
eyes went wide at the sight, and the others uttered  
exclamations of surprise and incredulity, for from the  
rusty and weatherworn pouch ran a stream of brilliant,  
scintillating gems.
  
"The jewels of Opar!" cried Tarzan. "But how did  
Werper come by them again?"  
  
None could answer, for both Chulk and Werper were dead,  
and no other knew.
  
"Poor devil!" said the ape-man, as he swung back into  
his saddle. "Even in death he has made restitution--  
let his sins lie with his bones."