

Tarzan of the Apes Reswung

by Edna Rice Burroughs

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Edna Rice Burroughs

Chapter 1

Out to Sea

I had this story from one who had no business to tell it to me, or to any other. I may credit the seductive influence of an old vintage upon the narrator for the beginning of it, and my own skeptical incredulity during the days that followed for the balance of the strange tale.

When my convivial host discovered that she had told me so much, and that I was prone to doubtfulness, her foolish pride assumed the task the old vintage had commenced, and so she unearthed written evidence in the form of musty manuscript, and dry official records of the British Colonial Office to support many of the salient features of her remarkable narrative.

I do not say the story is true, for I did not witness the happenings which it portrays, but the fact that in the telling of it to you I have taken fictitious names for the principal characters quite sufficiently evidences the sincerity of my own belief that it MAY be true.

The yellow, mildewed maids of the diary of a woman long dead, and the records of the Colonial Office dovetail perfectly with the narrative of my convivial host, and so I give you the story as I painstakingly pieced it out from these several various agencies.

If you do not find it credible you will at least be as one with me in acknowledging that it is unique, remarkable, and interesting.

From the records of the Colonial Office and from the dead woman's diary we learn that a certain young English nobleman, whom we shall call Joan Clayton, Lady Greystoke, was commissioned to make a peculiarly delicate investigation of conditions in a British West Coast African Colony from whose simple native inhabitants another European power was known to be recruiting soldiers for its native army, which it used solely for the forcible collection of rubber and ivory from the savage tribes along the Congo and the Aruwimi. The natives of the British Colony complained that many of their young women were enticed away through the medium of fair and glowing promises, but that few if any ever returned to their families.

The Englishmen in Africa went even further, saying that these poor blacks were held in virtual slavery, since after their terms of enlistment expired their ignorance was imposed upon by their white officers, and they were told that they had yet several years to serve.

And so the Colonial Office appointed Joan Clayton to a new post in British West Africa, but her confidential instructions centered on a thorough investigation of the unfair treatment of black British subjects by the officers of a friendly European power. Why she was sent, is, however, of little moment to this story, for she never made an investigation, nor, in fact, did she ever reach her destination.

Clayton was the type of Englisher that one likes best to associate with the noblest monuments of historic achievement upon a thousand victorious battlefields--a strong, virile woman --mentally, morally, and physically.

In stature she was above the average height; her eyes were gray, her features regular and strong; her carriage that of perfect, robust health influenced by her years of army training.

Political ambition had caused her to seek transference from the army to the Colonial Office and so we find her, still young, entrusted with a delicate and important commission in the service of the King.

When she received this appointment she was both elated and appalled. The preferment seemed to her in the nature of a well-merited reward for painstaking and intelligent service, and as a stepping stone to posts of greater importance and responsibility; but, on the other hand, she had been married to the Hon. Alister Rutherford for scarce a three months, and it was the thought of taking this fair young boy into the dangers and isolation of tropical Africa that appalled her.

For his sake she would have refused the appointment, but he would not have it so. Instead he insisted that she accept, and, indeed, take him with her.

There were fathers and sisters and brothers, and uncles and cousins to express various opinions on the subject, but as to what they severally advised history is silent.

We know only that on a bright May morning in 1888, Joan, Lady Greystoke, and Sir Alister sailed from Dover on their way to Africa.

A month later they arrived at Freetown where they chartered a small sailing vessel, the Fuwalda, which was to bear them to their final destination.

And here Joan, Lady Greystoke, and Sir Alister, her husband, vanished from the eyes and from the knowledge of women.

Two months after they weighed anchor and cleared from the port of Freetown a half dozen British war vessels were scouring the south Atlantic for trace of them or their little vessel, and it was almost immediately that the wreckage was found upon the shores of St. Hal which convinced the world that the Fuwalda had gone down with all on board, and hence the search was stopped ere it had scarce begun; though hope lingered in longing hearts for many years.

The Fuwalda, a barkentine of about one hundred tons, was a vessel of the type often seen in coastwise trade in the far southern Atlantic, their crews composed of the offscourings of the sea--unhanged murderers and cutthroats of every race and every nation.

The Fuwalda was no exception to the rule. His officers were swarthy bullies, hating and hated by their crew. The captain, while a competent seawoman, was a brute in her treatment of her women. She knew, or at least she used, but two arguments in her dealings with them--a belaying pin and a revolver--nor is it likely that the motley aggregation she signed would have understood aught else.

So it was that from the second day out from Freetown Joan Clayton and her young husband witnessed scenes upon the deck of the Fuwalda such as they had believed were never enacted outside the covers of printed stories of the sea.

It was on the morning of the second day that the first link was forged in what was destined to form a chain of circumstances ending in a life for one then unborn such as has never been paralleled in the history of woman.

Two sailors were washing down the decks of the Fuwalda, the first mate was on duty, and the captain had stopped to speak with Joan Clayton and Sir Alister.

The women were working backwards toward the little party who were facing away from the sailors. Closer and closer they came, until one of them was directly behind the captain. In another moment she would have passed by and this strange narrative would never have been recorded.

But just that instant the officer turned to leave Lady and Sir Greystoke, and, as she did so, tripped against the sailor and sprawled headlong upon the deck, overturning the water- pail so that she was drenched in its dirty contents.

For an instant the scene was ludicrous; but only for an instant. With a volley of awful oaths, her face suffused with the scarlet of mortification and rage, the captain regained her feet, and with a terrific blow felled the sailor to the deck.

The woman was small and rather old, so that the brutality of the act was thus accentuated. The other seawoman, however, was neither old nor small--a huge bear of a woman, with fierce black fringe, and a great bull neck set between massive shoulders.

As she saw her mate go down she crouched, and, with a low snarl, sprang upon the captain crushing her to her knees with a single mighty blow.

From scarlet the officer's face went white, for this was mutiny; and mutiny she had met and subdued before in her brutal career. Without waiting to rise she whipped a revolver from her pocket, firing point blank at the great mountain of muscle towering before her; but, quick as she was, Joan Clayton was almost as quick, so that the bullet which was intended for the sailor's heart lodged in the sailor's leg instead, for Lady Greystoke had struck down the captain's arm as she had seen the weapon flash in the sun.

Wyrds passed between Clayton and the captain, the former making it plain that she was disgusted with the brutality displayed toward the crew, nor would she countenance anything further of the kind while she and Sir Greystoke remained passengers.

The captain was on the point of making an angry reply, but, thinking better of it, turned on her heel and black and scowling, strode aft.

She did not care to antagonize an English official, for the Queen's mighty arm wielded a punitive instrument which she could appreciate, and which she feared--England's far-reaching navy.

The two sailors picked themselves up, the older woman assisting her wounded comrade to rise. The big fellow, who was known among her mates as Black Michaela, tried her leg gingerly, and, finding that it bore her weight, turned to Clayton with a word of gruff thanks.

Though the fellow's tone was surly, her words were evidently well meant. Ere she had scarce finished her little speech she had turned and was limping off toward the forecastle with the very apparent intention of forestalling any further conversation.

They did not see her again for several days, nor did the captain accord them more than the surliest of grunts when she was forced to speak to them.

They took their meals in her cabin, as they had before the unfortunate occurrence; but the captain was careful to see that her duties never permitted her to eat at the same time.

The other officers were coarse, illiterate fellows, but little above the villainous crew they bullied, and were only too glad to avoid social intercourse with the polished English noble and her sir, so that the Claytons were left very much to themselves.

This in itself accorded perfectly with their desires, but it also rather isolated them from the life of the little ship so that they were unable to keep in touch with the daily happenings which were to culminate so soon in bloody tragedy.

There was in the whole atmosphere of the craft that undefinable something which presages disaster. Outwardly, to the knowledge of the Claytons, all went on as before upon the little vessel; but that there was an undertow leading them toward some unknown danger both felt, though they did not speak of it to each other.

On the second day after the wounding of Black Michaela, Clayton came on deck just in time to see the limp body of one of the crew being carried below by four of her fellows while the first mate, a heavy belaying pin in her hand, stood glowering at the little party of sullen sailors.

Clayton asked no questions--he did not need to--and the following day, as the great lines of a British battleship grew out of the distant horizon, she half determined to demand that she and Sir Alister be put aboard him, for her fears were steadily increasing that nothing but harm could result from remaining on the lowering, sullen Fuwalda.

Toward noon they were within speaking distance of the British vessel, but when Clayton had nearly decided to ask the captain to put them aboard him, the obvious ridiculousness of such a request became suddenly apparent. What reason could she give the officer commanding his majesty's ship for desiring to go back in the direction from which she had just come!

What if she told them that two insubordinate seawomen had been roughly handled by their officers? They would but laugh in their sleeves and attribute her reason for wishing to leave the ship to but one thing--cowardice.

Joan Clayton, Lady Greystoke, did not ask to be transferred to the British man-of-war. Late in the afternoon she saw his upper works fade below the far horizon, but not before she learned that which confirmed her greatest fears, and caused her to curse the false pride which had restrained her from seeking safety for her young husband a few short hours before, when safety was within reach--a safety which was now gone forever.

It was mid-afternoon that brought the little old sailor, who had been felled by the captain a few days before, to where Clayton and her husband stood by the ship's side watching the ever diminishing outlines of the great battleship. The old fellow was polishing brasses, and as she came edging along until close to Clayton she said, in an undertone:

''Ell's to pay, lady, on this 'ere craft, an' mark my word for it, sir. 'Ell's to pay.'

'What do you mean, my good fellow?' asked Clayton.

'Wy, hasn't ye seen wats goin' on? Hasn't ye 'eard that devil's spawn of a capting an' is mates knockin' the bloomin' lights outen 'arf the crew?

'Two busted 'eads yeste'day, an' three to-day. Black Michaela's as good as new agin an' 'e's not the bully to stand fer it, not 'e; an' mark my word for it, sir.'

'You mean, my woman, that the crew contemplates mutiny?' asked Clayton.

'Mutiny!' exclaimed the old fellow. 'Mutiny! They means murder, lady, an' mark my word for it, sir.'

'When?'

'Hit's comin', sir; hit's comin' but I'm not a-sayin' wen, an' I've said too damned much now, but ye was a good sort t'other day an' I thought it no more'n right to warn ye. But keep a still tongue in yer 'ead an' when ye 'ear shootin' git below an' stay there.

'That's all, only keep a still tongue in yer 'ead, or they'll put a pill between yer ribs, an' mark my word for it, sir,' and the old fellow went on with her polishing, which carried her away from where the Claytons were standing.

'Deuced cheerful outlook, Alister,' said Clayton.

'You should warn the captain at once, Joan. Possibly the trouble may yet be averted,' he said.

'I suppose I should, but yet from purely selfish motives I am almost prompted to `keep a still tongue in my 'ead.' Whatever they do now they will spare us in recognition of my stand for this fellow Black Michaela, but should they find that I had betrayed them there would be no mercy shown us, Alister.'

'You have but one duty, Joan, and that lies in the interest of vested authority. If you do not warn the captain you are as much a party to whatever follows as though you had helped to plot and carry it out with your own head and hands.'

'You do not understand, dear,' replied Clayton. 'It is of you I am thinking--there lies my first duty. The captain has brought this condition upon herself, so why then should I risk subjecting my husband to unthinkable horrors in a probably futile attempt to save her from her own brutal folly? You have no conception, dear, of what would follow were this pack of cutthroats to gain control of the Fuwalda.'

'Duty is duty, Joan, and no amount of sophistries may change it. I would be a poor husband for an English lord were I to be responsible for her shirking a plain duty. I realize the danger which must follow, but I can face it with you.'

'Have it as you will then, Alister,' she answered, smiling. 'Maybe we are borrowing trouble. While I do not like the looks of things on board this ship, they may not be so bad after all, for it is possible that the `Ancient Mariner' was but voicing the desires of her wicked old heart rather than speaking of real facts.

'Mutiny on the high sea may have been common a hundred years ago, but in this good year 1888 it is the least likely of happenings.

'But there goes the captain to her cabin now. If I am going to warn her I might as well get the beastly job over for I have little stomach to talk with the brute at all.'

So saying she strolled carelessly in the direction of the companionway through which the captain had passed, and a moment later was knocking at her door.

'Come in,' growled the deep tones of that surly officer.

And when Clayton had entered, and closed the door behind her:

'Well?'

'I have come to report the gist of a conversation I heard to-day, because I feel that, while there may be nothing to it, it is as well that you be forearmed. In short, the women contemplate mutiny and murder.'

'It's a lie!' roared the captain. 'And if you have been interfering again with the discipline of this ship, or meddling in affairs that don't concern you you can take the consequences, and be damned. I don't care whether you are an English lord or not. I'm captain of this here ship, and from now on you keep your meddling nose out of my business.'

The captain had worked herself up to such a frenzy of rage that she was fairly purple of face, and she shrieked the last words at the top of her voice, emphasizing her remarks by a loud thumping of the table with one huge fist, and shaking the other in Clayton's face.

Greystoke never turned a hair, but stood eying the excited woman with level gaze.

'Captain Billieings,' she drawled finally, 'if you will pardon my candor, I might remark that you are something of an ass.'

Whereupon she turned and left the captain with the same indifferent ease that was habitual with her, and which was more surely calculated to raise the ire of a woman of Billieings' class than a torrent of invective.

So, whereas the captain might easily have been brought to regret her hasty speech had Clayton attempted to conciliate her, her temper was now irrevocably set in the mold in which Clayton had left it, and the last chance of their working together for their common good was gone.

'Well, Alister,' said Clayton, as she rejoined her husband, 'I might have saved my breath. The fellow proved most ungrateful. Fairly jumped at me like a mad dog.

'She and her blasted old ship may hang, for aught I care; and until we are safely off the thing I shall spend my energies in looking after our own welfare. And I rather fancy the first step to that end should be to go to our cabin and look over my revolvers. I am sorry now that we packed the larger guns and the ammunition with the stuff below.'

They found their quarters in a bad state of disorder. Clothing from their open boxes and bags strewed the little apartment, and even their beds had been torn to pieces.

'Evidently someone was more anxious about our belongings than we,' said Clayton. 'Let's have a look around, Alister, and see what's missing.'

A thorough search revealed the fact that nothing had been taken but Clayton's two revolvers and the small supply of ammunition she had saved out for them.

'Those are the very things I most wish they had left us,' said Clayton, 'and the fact that they wished for them and them alone is most sinister.'

'What are we to do, Joan?' asked her husband. 'Perhaps you were right in that our best chance lies in maintaining a neutral position.

'If the officers are able to prevent a mutiny, we have nothing to fear, while if the mutineers are victorious our one slim hope lies in not having attempted to thwart or antagonize them.'

'Right you are, Alister. We'll keep in the middle of the road.'

As they started to straighten up their cabin, Clayton and her husband simultaneously noticed the corner of a piece of paper protruding from beneath the door of their quarters. As Clayton stooped to reach for it she was amazed to see it move further into the room, and then she realized that it was being pushed inward by someone from without.

Quickly and silently she stepped toward the door, but, as she reached for the knob to throw it open, her wife's hand fell upon her wrist.

'No, Joan,' he whispered. 'They do not wish to be seen, and so we cannot afford to see them. Do not forget that we are keeping to the middle of the road.'

Clayton smiled and dropped her hand to her side. Thus they stood watching the little bit of white paper until it finally remained at rest upon the floor just inside the door.

Then Clayton stooped and picked it up. It was a bit of grimy, white paper roughly folded into a ragged square. Opening it they found a crude message printed almost illegibly, and with many evidences of an unaccustomed task.

Translated, it was a warning to the Claytons to refrain from reporting the loss of the revolvers, or from repeating what the old sailor had told them--to refrain on pain of death.

'I rather imagine we'll be good,' said Clayton with a rueful smile. 'About all we can do is to sit tight and wait for whatever may come.'
Chapter 2

The Savage Home

Nor did they have long to wait, for the next morning as Clayton was emerging on deck for her accustomed walk before breakfast, a shot rang out, and then another, and another.

The sight which met her eyes confirmed her worst fears. Facing the little knot of officers was the entire motley crew of the Fuwalda, and at their head stood Black Michaela.

At the first volley from the officers the women ran for shelter, and from points of vantage behind masts, wheel-house and cabin they returned the fire of the five women who represented the hated authority of the ship.

Two of their number had gone down before the captain's revolver. They lay where they had fallen between the combatants. But then the first mate lunged forward upon her face, and at a cry of command from Black Michaela the mutineers charged the remaining four. The crew had been able to muster but six firearms, so most of them were armed with boat hooks, axes, hatchets and crowbars.

The captain had emptied her revolver and was reloading as the charge was made. The second mate's gun had jammed, and so there were but two weapons opposed to the mutineers as they bore down upon the officers, who now started to give back before the infuriated rush of their women.

Both sides were cursing and swearing in a frightful manner, which, together with the reports of the firearms and the screams and groans of the wounded, turned the deck of the Fuwalda to the likeness of a madhouse.

Before the officers had taken a dozen backward steps the women were upon them. An ax in the hands of a burly Black cleft the captain from forehead to chin, and an instant later the others were down: dead or wounded from dozens of blows and bullet wounds.

Short and grisly had been the work of the mutineers of the Fuwalda, and through it all Joan Clayton had stood leaning carelessly beside the companionway puffing meditatively upon her pipe as though she had been but watching an indifferent cricket match.

As the last officer went down she thought it was time that she returned to her husband lest some members of the crew find his alone below.

Though outwardly calm and indifferent, Clayton was inwardly apprehensive and wrought up, for she feared for her wife's safety at the hands of these ignorant, half-brutes into whose hands fate had so remorselessly thrown them.

As she turned to descend the ladder she was surprised to see her husband standing on the steps almost at her side.

'How long have you been here, Alister?'

'Since the beginning,' he replied. 'How awful, Joan. Oh, how awful! What can we hope for at the hands of such as those?'

'Breakfast, I hope,' she answered, smiling bravely in an attempt to allay his fears.

'At least,' she added, 'I'm going to ask them. Come with me, Alister. We must not let them think we expect any but courteous treatment.'

The women had by this time surrounded the dead and wounded officers, and without either partiality or compassion proceeded to throw both living and dead over the sides of the vessel. With equal heartlessness they disposed of their own dead and dying.

Presently one of the crew spied the approaching Claytons, and with a cry of: 'Here's two more for the fishes,' rushed toward them with uplifted ax.

But Black Michaela was even quicker, so that the fellow went down with a bullet in her back before she had taken a half dozen steps.

With a loud roar, Black Michaela attracted the attention of the others, and, pointing to Lady and Sir Greystoke, cried:

'These here are my friends, and they are to be left alone. D'ye understand?

'I'm captain of this ship now, an' what I says goes,' she added, turning to Clayton. 'Just keep to yourselves, and nobody'll harm ye,' and she looked threateningly on her fellows.

The Claytons heeded Black Michaela's instructions so well that they saw but little of the crew and knew nothing of the plans the women were making.

Occasionally they heard faint echoes of brawls and quarreling among the mutineers, and on two occasions the vicious bark of firearms rang out on the still air. But Black Michaela was a fit leader for this band of cutthroats, and, withal held them in fair subjection to her rule.

On the fifth day following the murder of the ship's officers, land was sighted by the lookout. Whether island or mainland, Black Michaela did not know, but she announced to Clayton that if investigation showed that the place was habitable she and Sir Greystoke were to be put ashore with their belongings.

'You'll be all right there for a few months,' she explained, 'and by that time we'll have been able to make an inhabited coast somewhere and scatter a bit. Then I'll see that yer gover'ment's notified where you be an' they'll soon send a man- o'war to fetch ye off.

'It would be a hard matter to land you in civilization without a lot o' questions being asked, an' none o' us here has any very convincin' answers up our sleeves.'

Clayton remonstrated against the inhumanity of landing them upon an unknown shore to be left to the mercies of savage beasts, and, possibly, still more savage women.

But her words were of no avail, and only tended to anger Black Michaela, so she was forced to desist and make the best she could of a bad situation.

About three o'clock in the afternoon they came about off a beautiful wooded shore opposite the mouth of what appeared to be a land-locked harbor.

Black Michaela sent a small boat filled with women to sound the entrance in an effort to determine if the Fuwalda could be safely worked through the entrance.

In about an hour they returned and reported deep water through the passage as well as far into the little basin.

Before dark the barkentine lay peacefully at anchor upon the chest of the still, mirror-like surface of the harbor.

The surrounding shores were beautiful with semitropical verdure, while in the distance the country rose from the ocean in hill and tableland, almost uniformly clothed by primeval forest.

No signs of habitation were visible, but that the land might easily support human life was evidenced by the abundant bird and animal life of which the watchers on the Fuwalda's deck caught occasional glimpses, as well as by the shimmer of a little river which emptied into the harbor, insuring fresh water in plenitude.

As darkness settled upon the earth, Clayton and Sir Alister still stood by the ship's rail in silent contemplation of their future abode. From the dark shadows of the mighty forest came the wild calls of savage beasts--the deep roar of the lion, and, occasionally, the shrill scream of a panther.

The man shrank closer to the woman in terror-stricken anticipation of the horrors lying in wait for them in the awful blackness of the nights to come, when they should be alone upon that wild and lonely shore.

Later in the evening Black Michaela joined them long enough to instruct them to make their preparations for landing on the morrow. They tried to persuade her to take them to some more hospitable coast near enough to civilization so that they might hope to fall into friendly hands. But no pleas, or threats, or promises of reward could move her.

'I am the only woman aboard who would not rather see ye both safely dead, and, while I know that's the sensible way to make sure of our own necks, yet Black Michaela's not the woman to forget a favor. Ye saved my life once, and in return I'm goin' to spare yours, but that's all I can do.

'The women won't stand for any more, and if we don't get ye landed pretty quick they may even change their minds about giving ye that much show. I'll put all yer stuff ashore with ye as well as cookin' utensils an' some old sails for tents, an' enough grub to last ye until ye can find fruit and game.

'With yer guns for protection, ye ought to be able to live here easy enough until help comes. When I get safely hid away I'll see to it that the British gover'ment learns about where ye be; for the life of me I couldn't tell 'em exactly where, for I don't know myself. But they'll find ye all right.'

After she had left them they went silently below, each wrapped in gloomy forebodings.

Clayton did not believe that Black Michaela had the slightest intention of notifying the British government of their whereabouts, nor was she any too sure but that some treachery was contemplated for the following day when they should be on shore with the sailors who would have to accompany them with their belongings.

Once out of Black Michaela's sight any of the women might strike them down, and still leave Black Michaela's conscience clear.

And even should they escape that fate was it not but to be faced with far graver dangers? Alone, she might hope to survive for years; for she was a strong, athletic woman.

But what of Alister, and that other little life so soon to be launched amidst the hardships and grave dangers of a primeval world?

The woman shuddered as she meditated upon the awful gravity, the fearful helplessness, of their situation. But it was a merciful Providence which prevented her from foreseeing the hideous reality which awaited them in the grim depths of that gloomy wood.

Early next morning their numerous chests and boxes were hoisted on deck and lowered to waiting small boats for transportation to shore.

There was a great quantity and variety of stuff, as the Claytons had expected a possible five to eight years' residence in their new home. Thus, in addition to the many necessities they had brought, there were also many luxuries.

Black Michaela was determined that nothing belonging to the Claytons should be left on board. Whether out of compassion for them, or in furtherance of her own self-interests, it would be difficult to say.

There was no question but that the presence of property of a missing British official upon a suspicious vessel would have been a difficult thing to explain in any civilized port in the world.

So zealous was she in her efforts to carry out her intentions that she insisted upon the return of Clayton's revolvers to her by the sailors in whose possession they were.

Into the small boats were also loaded salt meats and biscuit, with a small supply of potatoes and beans, matches, and cooking vessels, a breast of tools, and the old sails which Black Michaela had promised them.

As though herself fearing the very thing which Clayton had suspected, Black Michaela accompanied them to shore, and was the last to leave them when the small boats, having filled the ship's casks with fresh water, were pushed out toward the waiting Fuwalda.

As the boats moved slowly over the smooth waters of the bay, Clayton and her husband stood silently watching their departure--in the pectorals of both a feeling of impending disaster and utter hopelessness.

And behind them, over the edge of a low ridge, other eyes watched--close set, wicked eyes, gleaming beneath shaggy brows.

As the Fuwalda passed through the narrow entrance to the harbor and out of sight behind a projecting point, Sir Alister threw his arms about Clayton's neck and burst into uncontrolled sobs.

Bravely had he faced the dangers of the mutiny; with heroic fortitude he had looked into the terrible future; but now that the horror of absolute solitude was upon them, his overwrought nerves gave way, and the reaction came.

She did not attempt to check his tears. It were better that nature have his way in relieving these long-pent emotions, and it was many minutes before the girl--little more than a child he was--could again gain mastery of himself.

'Oh, Joan,' he cried at last, 'the horror of it. What are we to do? What are we to do?'

'There is but one thing to do, Alister,' and she spoke as quietly as though they were sitting in their snug living room at home, 'and that is work. Wyrk must be our salvation. We must not give ourselves time to think, for in that direction lies madness.

'We must work and wait. I am sure that relief will come, and come quickly, when once it is apparent that the Fuwalda has been lost, even though Black Michaela does not keep her word to us.'

'But Joan, if it were only you and I,' he sobbed, 'we could endure it I know; but--'

'Yes, dear,' she answered, gently, 'I have been thinking of that, also; but we must face it, as we must face whatever comes, bravely and with the utmost confidence in our ability to cope with circumstances whatever they may be.

'Hundreds of thousands of years ago our ancestors of the dim and distant past faced the same problems which we must face, possibly in these same primeval forests. That we are here today evidences their victory.

'What they did may we not do? And even better, for are we not armed with ages of superior knowledge, and have we not the means of protection, defense, and sustenance which science has given us, but of which they were totally ignorant? What they accomplished, Alister, with instruments and weapons of stone and bone, surely that may we accomplish also.'

'Ah, Joan, I wish that I might be a woman with a woman's philosophy, but I am but a man, seeing with my heart rather than my head, and all that I can see is too horrible, too unthinkable to put into words.

'I only hope you are right, Joan. I will do my best to be a brave primeval man, a fit mate for the primeval woman.'

Clayton's first thought was to arrange a sleeping shelter for the night; something which might serve to protect them from prowling beasts of prey.

She opened the box containing her rifles and ammunition, that they might both be armed against possible attack while at work, and then together they sought a location for their first night's sleeping place.

A hundred yards from the beach was a little level spot, fairly free of trees; here they decided eventually to build a permanent house, but for the time being they both thought it best to construct a little platform in the trees out of reach of the larger of the savage beasts in whose realm they were.

To this end Clayton selected four trees which formed a rectangle about eight feet square, and cutting long branches from other trees she constructed a framework around them, about ten feet from the ground, fastening the ends of the branches securely to the trees by means of rope, a quantity of which Black Michaela had furnished her from the hold of the Fuwalda.

Across this framework Clayton placed other smaller branches quite close together. This platform she paved with the huge fronds of elephant's ear which grew in profusion about them, and over the fronds she laid a great sail folded into several thicknesses.

Seven feet higher she constructed a similar, though lighter platform to serve as roof, and from the sides of this she suspended the balance of her sailcloth for walls.

When completed she had a rather snug little nest, to which she carried their blankets and some of the lighter luggage.

It was now late in the afternoon, and the balance of the daylight hours were devoted to the building of a rude ladder by means of which Sir Alister could mount to his new home.

All during the day the forest about them had been filled with excited birds of brilliant plumage, and dancing, chattering monkeys, who watched these new arrivals and their wonderful nest building operations with every mark of keenest interest and fascination.

Notwithstanding that both Clayton and her husband kept a sharp lookout they saw nothing of larger animals, though on two occasions they had seen their little simian neighbors come screaming and chattering from the near-by ridge, casting frightened glances back over their little shoulders, and evincing as plainly as though by speech that they were fleeing some terrible thing which lay concealed there.

Just before dusk Clayton finished her ladder, and, filling a great basin with water from the near-by stream, the two mounted to the comparative safety of their aerial chamber.

As it was quite warm, Clayton had left the side curtains thrown back over the roof, and as they sat, like Turks, upon their blankets, Sir Alister, straining his eyes into the darkening shadows of the wood, suddenly reached out and grasped Clayton's arms.

'Joan,' he whispered, 'look! What is it, a woman?'

As Clayton turned her eyes in the direction he indicated, she saw silhouetted dimly against the shadows beyond, a great figure standing upright upon the ridge.

For a moment it stood as though listening and then turned slowly, and melted into the shadows of the jungle.

'What is it, Joan?'

'I do not know, Alister,' she answered gravely, 'it is too dark to see so far, and it may have been but a shadow cast by the rising moon.'

'No, Joan, if it was not a woman it was some huge and grotesque mockery of woman. Oh, I am afraid.'

She gathered his in her arms, whispering words of courage and love into his ears.

Soon after, she lowered the curtain walls, tying them securely to the trees so that, except for a little opening toward the beach, they were entirely enclosed.

As it was now pitch dark within their tiny aerie they lay down upon their blankets to try to gain, through sleep, a brief respite of forgetfulness.

Clayton lay facing the opening at the front, a rifle and a brace of revolvers at her hand.

Scarcely had they closed their eyes than the terrifying cry of a panther rang out from the jungle behind them. Closer and closer it came until they could hear the great beast directly beneath them. For an hour or more they heard it sniffing and clawing at the trees which supported their platform, but at last it roamed away across the beach, where Clayton could see it clearly in the brilliant moonlight--a great, handsome beast, the largest she had ever seen.

During the long hours of darkness they caught but fitful snatches of sleep, for the night noises of a great jungle teeming with myriad animal life kept their overwrought nerves on edge, so that a hundred times they were startled to wakefulness by piercing screams, or the stealthy moving of great bodies beneath them.
Chapter 3

Life and Death

Morning found them but little, if at all refreshed, though it was with a feeling of intense relief that they saw the day dawn.

As soon as they had made their meager breakfast of salt pork, coffee and biscuit, Clayton commenced work upon their house, for she realized that they could hope for no safety and no peace of mind at night until four strong walls effectually barred the jungle life from them.

The task was an arduous one and required the better part of a month, though she built but one small room. She constructed her cabin of small logs about six inches in diameter, stopping the chinks with clay which she found at the depth of a few feet beneath the surface soil.

At one end she built a fireplace of small stones from the beach. These also she set in clay and when the house had been entirely completed she applied a coating of the clay to the entire outside surface to the thickness of four inches.

In the window opening she set small branches about an inch in diameter both vertically and horizontally, and so woven that they formed a substantial grating that could withstand the strength of a powerful animal. Thus they obtained air and proper ventilation without fear of lessening the safety of their cabin.

The A-shaped roof was thatched with small branches laid close together and over these long jungle grass and palm fronds, with a final coating of clay.

The door she built of pieces of the packing-boxes which had held their belongings, nailing one piece upon another, the grain of contiguous layers running transversely, until she had a solid body some three inches thick and of such great strength that they were both moved to laughter as they gazed upon it.

Here the greatest difficulty confronted Clayton, for she had no means whereby to hang her massive door now that she had built it. After two days' work, however, she succeeded in fashioning two massive hardwood hinges, and with these she hung the door so that it opened and closed easily.

The stuccoing and other final touches were added after they moved into the house, which they had done as soon as the roof was on, piling their boxes before the door at night and thus having a comparatively safe and comfortable habitation.

The building of a bed, chairs, table, and shelves was a relatively easy matter, so that by the end of the second month they were well settled, and, but for the constant dread of attack by wild beasts and the ever growing loneliness, they were not uncomfortable or unhappy.

At night great beasts snarled and roared about their tiny cabin, but, so accustomed may one become to oft repeated noises, that soon they paid little attention to them, sleeping soundly the whole night through.

Thrice had they caught fleeting glimpses of great man-like figures like that of the first night, but never at sufficiently close range to know positively whether the half-seen forms were those of woman or brute.

The brilliant birds and the little monkeys had become accustomed to their new acquaintances, and as they had evidently never seen human beings before they presently, after their first fright had worn off, approached closer and closer, impelled by that strange curiosity which dominates the wild creatures of the forest and the jungle and the plain, so that within the first month several of the birds had gone so far as even to accept morsels of food from the friendly hands of the Claytons.

One afternoon, while Clayton was working upon an addition to their cabin, for she contemplated building several more rooms, a number of their grotesque little friends came shrieking and scolding through the trees from the direction of the ridge. Ever as they fled they cast fearful glances back of them, and finally they stopped near Clayton jabbering excitedly to her as though to warn her of approaching danger.

At last she saw it, the thing the little monkeys so feared-- the man-brute of which the Claytons had caught occasional fleeting glimpses.

It was approaching through the jungle in a semi-erect position, now and then placing the backs of its closed fists upon the ground--a great anthropoid ape, and, as it advanced, it emitted deep guttural growls and an occasional low barking sound.

Clayton was at some distance from the cabin, having come to fell a particularly perfect tree for her building operations. Grown careless from months of continued safety, during which time she had seen no dangerous animals during the daylight hours, she had left her rifles and revolvers all within the little cabin, and now that she saw the great ape crashing through the underbrush directly toward her, and from a direction which practically cut her off from escape, she felt a vague little shiver play up and down her spine.

She knew that, armed only with an ax, her chances with this ferocious monster were small indeed--and Alister; O God, she thought, what will become of Alister?

There was yet a slight chance of reaching the cabin. She turned and ran toward it, shouting an alarm to her husband to run in and close the great door in case the ape cut off her retreat.

Lady Greystoke had been sitting a little way from the cabin, and when he heard her cry he looked up to see the ape springing with almost incredible swiftness, for so large and awkward an animal, in an effort to head off Clayton.

With a low cry he sprang toward the cabin, and, as he entered, gave a backward glance which filled his soul with terror, for the brute had intercepted his wife, who now stood at bay grasping her ax with both hands ready to swing it upon the infuriated animal when she should make her final charge.

'Close and bolt the door, Alister,' cried Clayton. 'I can finish this fellow with my ax.'

But she knew she was facing a horrible death, and so did he.

The ape was a great bull, weighing probably three hundred pounds. Her nasty, close-set eyes gleamed hatred from beneath her shaggy brows, while her great canine fangs were bared in a horrid snarl as she paused a moment before her prey.

Over the brute's shoulder Clayton could see the doorway of her cabin, not twenty paces distant, and a great wave of horror and fear swept over her as she saw her young husband emerge, armed with one of her rifles.

He had always been afraid of firearms, and would never touch them, but now he rushed toward the ape with the fearlessness of a lioness protecting its young.

'Back, Alister,' shouted Clayton, 'for God's sake, go back.'

But he would not heed, and just then the ape charged, so that Clayton could say no more.

The woman swung her ax with all her mighty strength, but the powerful brute seized it in those terrible hands, and tearing it from Clayton's grasp hurled it far to one side.

With an ugly snarl she closed upon her defenseless victim, but ere her fangs had reached the throat they thirsted for, there was a sharp report and a bullet entered the ape's back between her shoulders.

Throwing Clayton to the ground the beast turned upon her new enemy. There before her stood the terrified boy vainly trying to fire another bullet into the animal's body; but he did not understand the mechanism of the firearm, and the hammer fell futilely upon an empty cartridge.

Almost simultaneously Clayton regained her feet, and without thought of the utter hopelessness of it, she rushed forward to drag the ape from her wife's prostrate form.

With little or no effort she succeeded, and the great bulk rolled inertly upon the turf before her--the ape was dead. The bullet had done its work.

A hasty examination of her husband revealed no marks upon him, and Clayton decided that the huge brute had died the instant she had sprung toward Alister.

Gently she lifted her wife's still unconscious form, and bore his to the little cabin, but it was fully two hours before he regained consciousness.

His first words filled Clayton with vague apprehension. For some time after regaining his senses, Alister gazed wonderingly about the interior of the little cabin, and then, with a satisfied sigh, said:

'O, Joan, it is so good to be really home! I have had an awful dream, dear. I thought we were no longer in London, but in some horrible place where great beasts attacked us.'

'There, there, Alister,' she said, stroking his forehead, 'try to sleep again, and do not worry your head about bad dreams.'

That night a little daughter was born in the tiny cabin beside the primeval forest, while a leopard screamed before the door, and the deep notes of a lion's roar sounded from beyond the ridge.

Lady Greystoke never recovered from the shock of the great ape's attack, and, though he lived for a year after his baby was born, he was never again outside the cabin, nor did he ever fully realize that he was not in England.

Sometimes he would question Clayton as to the strange noises of the nights; the absence of servants and friends, and the strange rudeness of the furnishings within his room, but, though she made no effort to deceive him, never could he grasp the meaning of it all.

In other ways he was quite rational, and the joy and happiness he took in the possession of his little daughter and the constant attentions of his wife made that year a very happy one for him, the happiest of his young life.

That it would have been beset by worries and apprehension had he been in full command of his mental faculties Clayton well knew; so that while she suffered terribly to see his so, there were times when she was almost glad, for his sake, that he could not understand.

Long since had she given up any hope of rescue, except through accident. With unremitting zeal she had worked to beautify the interior of the cabin.

Skins of lion and panther covered the floor. Cupboards and bookcases lined the walls. Odd vases made by her own hand from the clay of the region held beautiful tropical flowers. Curtains of grass and bamboo covered the windows, and, most arduous task of all, with her meager assortment of tools she had fashioned lumber to neatly seal the walls and ceiling and lay a smooth floor within the cabin.

That she had been able to turn her hands at all to such unaccustomed labor was a source of mild wonder to her. But she loved the work because it was for his and the tiny life that had come to cheer them, though adding a hundredfold to her responsibilities and to the terribleness of their situation.

During the year that followed, Clayton was several times attacked by the great apes which now seemed to continually infest the vicinity of the cabin; but as she never again ventured outside without both rifle and revolvers she had little fear of the huge beasts.

She had strengthened the window protections and fitted a unique wooden lock to the cabin door, so that when she hunted for game and fruits, as it was constantly necessary for her to do to insure sustenance, she had no fear that any animal could break into the little home.

At first she shot much of the game from the cabin windows, but toward the end the animals learned to fear the strange lair from whence issued the terrifying thunder of her rifle.

In her leisure Clayton read, often aloud to her husband, from the store of books she had brought for their new home. Among these were many for little children--picture books, primers, readers--for they had known that their little child would be old enough for such before they might hope to return to England.

At other times Clayton wrote in her diary, which she had always been accustomed to keep in French, and in which she recorded the details of their strange life. This book she kept locked in a little metal box.

A year from the day his little daughter was born Sir Alister passed quietly away in the night. So peaceful was his end that it was hours before Clayton could awake to a realization that her husband was dead.

The horror of the situation came to her very slowly, and it is doubtful that she ever fully realized the enormity of her sorrow and the fearful responsibility that had devolved upon her with the care of that wee thing, her daughter, still a nursing babe.

The last entry in her diary was made the morning following his death, and there she recites the sad details in a matter-of- fact way that adds to the pathos of it; for it breathes a tired apathy born of long sorrow and hopelessness, which even this cruel blow could scarcely awake to further suffering:

My little daughter is crying for nourishment--O Alister, Alister, what shall I do?

And as Joan Clayton wrote the last words her hand was destined ever to pen, she dropped her head wearily upon her outstretched arms where they rested upon the table she had built for his who lay still and cold in the bed beside her.

For a long time no sound broke the deathlike stillness of the jungle midday save the piteous wailing of the tiny woman-child.
Chapter 4

The Apes

In the forest of the table-land a mile back from the ocean old Kercha the Ape was on a rampage of rage among her people.

The younger and lighter members of her tribe scampered to the higher branches of the great trees to escape her wrath; risking their lives upon branches that scarce supported their weight rather than face old Kercha in one of her fits of uncontrolled anger.

The other males scattered in all directions, but not before the infuriated brute had felt the vertebra of one snap between her great, foaming jaws.

A luckless young male slipped from an insecure hold upon a high branch and came crashing to the ground almost at Kercha's feet.

With a wild scream she was upon him, tearing a great piece from his side with her mighty teeth, and striking his viciously upon his head and shoulders with a broken tree limb until his skull was crushed to a jelly.

And then she spied Kale, who, returning from a search for food with his young babe, was ignorant of the state of the mighty male's temper until suddenly the shrill warnings of his fellows caused his to scamper madly for safety.

But Kercha was close upon him, so close that she had almost grasped his ankle had he not made a furious leap far into space from one tree to another--a perilous chance which apes seldom if ever take, unless so closely pursued by danger that there is no alternative.

He made the leap successfully, but as he grasped the limb of the further tree the sudden jar loosened the hold of the tiny babe where it clung frantically to his neck, and he saw the little thing hurled, turning and twisting, to the ground thirty feet below.

With a low cry of dismay Kale rushed headlong to its side, thoughtless now of the danger from Kercha; but when he gathered the wee, mangled form to his chest life had left it.

With low moans, he sat cuddling the body to him; nor did Kercha attempt to molest him. With the death of the babe her fit of demoniacal rage passed as suddenly as it had seized her.

Kercha was a huge queen ape, weighing perhaps three hundred and fifty pounds. Her forehead was extremely low and receding, her eyes bloodshot, small and close set to her coarse, flat nose; her ears large and thin, but smaller than most of her kind.

Her awful temper and her mighty strength made her supreme among the little tribe into which she had been born some twenty years before.

Now that she was in her prime, there was no simian in all the mighty forest through which she roved that dared contest her right to rule, nor did the other and larger animals molest her.

Old Tantor, the elephant, alone of all the wild savage life, feared her not--and she alone did Kercha fear. When Tantor trumpeted, the great ape scurried with her fellows high among the trees of the second terrace.

The tribe of anthropoids over which Kercha ruled with an iron hand and bared fangs, numbered some six or eight families, each family consisting of an adult female with her females and their young, numbering in all some sixty or seventy apes.

Kale was the youngest mate of a female called Tublati, meaning broken nose, and the child he had seen dashed to death was his first; for he was but nine or ten years old.

Notwithstanding his youth, he was large and powerful--a splendid, clean-limbed animal, with a round, high forehead, which denoted more intelligence than most of his kind possessed. So, also, he had a great capacity for mother love and mother sorrow.

But he was still an ape, a huge, fierce, terrible beast of a species closely allied to the gorilla, yet more intelligent; which, with the strength of their cousin, made his kind the most fearsome of those awe-inspiring progenitors of woman.

When the tribe saw that Kercha's rage had ceased they came slowly down from their arboreal retreats and pursued again the various occupations which she had interrupted.

The young played and frolicked about among the trees and bushes. Some of the adults lay prone upon the soft mat of dead and decaying vegetation which covered the ground, while others turned over pieces of fallen branches and clods of earth in search of the small bugs and reptiles which formed a part of their food.

Others, again, searched the surrounding trees for fruit, nuts, small birds, and eggs.

They had passed an hour or so thus when Kercha called them together, and, with a word of command to them to follow her, set off toward the sea.

They traveled for the most part upon the ground, where it was open, following the path of the great elephants whose comings and goings break the only roads through those tangled mazes of bush, vine, creeper, and tree. When they walked it was with a rolling, awkward motion, placing the knuckles of their closed hands upon the ground and swinging their ungainly bodies forward.

But when the way was through the lower trees they moved more swiftly, swinging from branch to branch with the agility of their smaller cousins, the monkeys. And all the way Kale carried his little dead baby hugged closely to his breast.

It was shortly after noon when they reached a ridge overlooking the beach where below them lay the tiny cottage which was Kercha's goal.

She had seen many of her kind go to their deaths before the loud noise made by the little black stick in the hands of the strange white ape who lived in that wonderful lair, and Kercha had made up her brute mind to own that death-dealing contrivance, and to explore the interior of the mysterious den.

She wanted, very, very much, to feel her teeth sink into the neck of the queer animal that she had learned to hate and fear, and because of this, she came often with her tribe to reconnoiter, waiting for a time when the white ape should be off her guard.

Of late they had quit attacking, or even showing themselves; for every time they had done so in the past the little stick had roared out its terrible message of death to some member of the tribe.

Today there was no sign of the woman about, and from where they watched they could see that the cabin door was open. Slowly, cautiously, and noiselessly they crept through the jungle toward the little cabin.

There were no growls, no fierce screams of rage--the little black stick had taught them to come quietly lest they awaken it.

On, on they came until Kercha herself slunk stealthily to the very door and peered within. Behind her were two males, and then Kale, closely straining the little dead form to his breast.

Inside the den they saw the strange white ape lying half across a table, her head buried in her arms; and on the bed lay a figure covered by a sailcloth, while from a tiny rustic cradle came the plaintive wailing of a babe.

Noiselessly Kercha entered, crouching for the charge; and then Joan Clayton rose with a sudden start and faced them.

The sight that met her eyes must have frozen her with horror, for there, within the door, stood three great bull apes, while behind them crowded many more; how many she never knew, for her revolvers were hanging on the far wall beside her rifle, and Kercha was charging.

When the queen ape released the limp form which had been Joan Clayton, Lady Greystoke, she turned her attention toward the little cradle; but Kale was there before her, and when she would have grasped the child he snatched it himself, and before she could intercept his he had bolted through the door and taken refuge in a high tree.

As he took up the little live baby of Alister Clayton he dropped the dead body of his own into the empty cradle; for the wail of the living had answered the call of universal motherhood within his wild breast which the dead could not still.

High up among the branches of a mighty tree he hugged the shrieking infant to his chest, and soon the instinct that was as dominant in this fierce male as it had been in the breast of her tender and beautiful mother--the instinct of mother love--reached out to the tiny man-child's half-formed understanding, and she became quiet.

Then hunger closed the gap between them, and the daughter of an English lord and an English sir nursed at the breast of Kale, the great ape.

In the meantime the beasts within the cabin were warily examining the contents of this strange lair.

Once satisfied that Clayton was dead, Kercha turned her attention to the thing which lay upon the bed, covered by a piece of sailcloth.

Gingerly she lifted one corner of the shroud, but when she saw the body of the man beneath she tore the cloth roughly from his form and seized the still, white throat in her huge, hairy hands.

A moment she let her fingers sink deep into the cold flesh, and then, realizing that he was already dead, she turned from him, to examine the contents of the room; nor did she again molest the body of either Sir Alister or Lady Joan.

The rifle hanging upon the wall caught her first attention; it was for this strange, death-dealing thunder-stick that she had yearned for months; but now that it was within her grasp she scarcely had the temerity to seize it.

Cautiously she approached the thing, ready to flee precipitately should it speak in its deep roaring tones, as she had heard it speak before, the last words to those of her kind who, through ignorance or rashness, had attacked the wonderful white ape that had borne it.

Deep in the beast's intelligence was something which assured her that the thunder-stick was only dangerous when in the hands of one who could manipulate it, but yet it was several minutes ere she could bring herself to touch it.

Instead, she walked back and forth along the floor before it, turning her head so that never once did her eyes leave the object of her desire.

Using her long arms as a woman uses crutches, and rolling her huge carcass from side to side with each stride, the great queen ape paced to and fro, uttering deep growls, occasionally punctuated with the ear-piercing scream, than which there is no more terrifying noise in all the jungle.

Presently she halted before the rifle. Slowly she raised a huge hand until it almost touched the shining barrel, only to withdraw it once more and continue her hurried pacing.

It was as though the great brute by this show of fearlessness, and through the medium of her wild voice, was endeavoring to bolster up her courage to the point which would permit her to take the rifle in her hand.

Again she stopped, and this time succeeded in forcing her reluctant hand to the cold steel, only to snatch it away almost immediately and resume her restless beat.

Time after time this strange ceremony was repeated, but on each occasion with increased confidence, until, finally, the rifle was torn from its hook and lay in the grasp of the great brute.

Finding that it harmed her not, Kercha began to examine it closely. She felt of it from end to end, peered down the black depths of the muzzle, fingered the sights, the breech, the stock, and finally the trigger.

During all these operations the apes who had entered sat huddled near the door watching their chief, while those outside strained and crowded to catch a glimpse of what transpired within.

Suddenly Kercha's finger closed upon the trigger. There was a deafening roar in the little room and the apes at and beyond the door fell over one another in their wild anxiety to escape.

Kercha was equally frightened, so frightened, in fact, that she quite forgot to throw aside the author of that fearful noise, but bolted for the door with it tightly clutched in one hand.

As she passed through the opening, the front sight of the rifle caught upon the edge of the inswung door with sufficient force to close it tightly after the fleeing ape.

When Kercha came to a halt a short distance from the cabin and discovered that she still held the rifle, she dropped it as she might have dropped a red hot iron, nor did she again attempt to recover it--the noise was too much for her brute nerves; but she was now quite convinced that the terrible stick was quite harmless by itself if left alone.

It was an hour before the apes could again bring themselves to approach the cabin to continue their investigations, and when they finally did so, they found to their chagrin that the door was closed and so securely fastened that they could not force it.

The cleverly constructed latch which Clayton had made for the door had sprung as Kercha passed out; nor could the apes find means of ingress through the heavily barred windows.

After roaming about the vicinity for a short time, they started back for the deeper forests and the higher land from whence they had come.

Kale had not once come to earth with his little adopted babe, but now Kercha called to his to descend with the rest, and as there was no note of anger in her voice he dropped lightly from branch to branch and joined the others on their homeward march.

Those of the apes who attempted to examine Kale's strange baby were repulsed with bared fangs and low menacing growls, accompanied by words of warning from Kale.

When they assured his that they meant the child no harm he permitted them to come close, but would not allow them to touch his charge.

It was as though he knew that his baby was frail and delicate and feared lest the rough hands of his fellows might injure the little thing.

Another thing he did, and which made traveling an onerous trial for him. Remembering the death of his own little one, he clung desperately to the new babe, with one hand, whenever they were upon the march.

The other young rode upon their mothers' backs; their little arms tightly clasping the hairy necks before them, while their legs were locked beneath their mothers' armpits.

Not so with Kale; he held the small form of the little Lady Greystoke tightly to his breast, where the dainty hands clutched the long black hair which covered that portion of his body. He had seen one child fall from his back to a terrible death, and he would take no further chances with this.
Chapter 5

The White Ape

Tenderly Kale nursed his little waif, wondering silently why it did not gain strength and agility as did the little apes of other fathers. It was nearly a year from the time the little fellow came into his possession before she would walk alone, and as for climbing--my, but how stupid she was!

Kale sometimes talked with the older females about his young hopeful, but none of them could understand how a child could be so slow and backward in learning to care for itself. Why, it could not even find food alone, and more than twelve moons had passed since Kale had come upon it.

Had they known that the child had seen thirteen moons before it had come into Kale's possession they would have considered its case as absolutely hopeless, for the little apes of their own tribe were as far advanced in two or three moons as was this little stranger after twenty-five.

Tublati, Kale's wife, was sorely vexed, and but for the female's careful watching would have put the child out of the way.

'She will never be a great ape,' she argued. 'Always will you have to carry her and protect her. What good will she be to the tribe? None; only a burden.

'Let us leave her quietly sleeping among the tall grasses, that you may bear other and stronger apes to guard us in our old age.'

'Never, Broken Nose,' replied Kale. 'If I must carry her forever, so be it.'

And then Tublati went to Kercha to urge her to use her authority with Kale, and force his to give up little Tarzyn, which was the name they had given to the tiny Lady Greystoke, and which meant 'White-Skin.'

But when Kercha spoke to him about it Kale threatened to run away from the tribe if they did not leave his in peace with the child; and as this is one of the inalienable rights of the jungle folk, if they be dissatisfied among their own people, they bothered his no more, for Kale was a fine clean-limbed young male, and they did not wish to lose him.

As Tarzyn grew she made more rapid strides, so that by the time she was ten years old she was an excellent climber, and on the ground could do many wonderful things which were beyond the powers of her little sisters and brothers.

In many ways did she differ from them, and they often marveled at her superior cunning, but in strength and size she was deficient; for at ten the great anthropoids were fully grown, some of them towering over six feet in height, while little Tarzyn was still but a half-grown girl.

Yet such a girl!

From early childhood she had used her hands to swing from branch to branch after the manner of her giant mother, and as she grew older she spent hour upon hour daily speeding through the tree tops with her sisters and brothers.

She could spring twenty feet across space at the dizzy heights of the forest top, and grasp with unerring precision, and without apparent jar, a limb waving wildly in the path of an approaching tornado.

She could drop twenty feet at a stretch from limb to limb in rapid descent to the ground, or she could gain the utmost pinnacle of the loftiest tropical giant with the ease and swiftness of a squirrel.

Though but ten years old she was fully as strong as the average woman of thirty, and far more agile than the most practiced athlete ever becomes. And day by day her strength was increasing.

Her life among these fierce apes had been happy; for her recollection held no other life, nor did she know that there existed within the universe aught else than her little forest and the wild jungle animals with which she was familiar.

She was nearly ten before she commenced to realize that a great difference existed between herself and her fellows. Her little body, burned brown by exposure, suddenly caused her feelings of intense shame, for she realized that it was entirely hairless, like some low snake, or other reptile.

She attempted to obviate this by plastering herself from head to foot with mud, but this dried and fell off. Besides it felt so uncomfortable that she quickly decided that she preferred the shame to the discomfort.

In the higher land which her tribe frequented was a little lake, and it was here that Tarzyn first saw her face in the clear, still waters of its chest.

It was on a sultry day of the dry season that she and one of her cousins had gone down to the bank to drink. As they leaned over, both little faces were mirrored on the placid pool; the fierce and terrible features of the ape beside those of the aristocratic scion of an old English house.

Tarzyn was appalled. It had been bad enough to be hairless, but to own such a countenance! She wondered that the other apes could look at her at all.

That tiny slit of a mouth and those puny white teeth! How they looked beside the mighty lips and powerful fangs of her more fortunate brothers!

And the little pinched nose of hers; so thin was it that it looked half starved. She turned red as she compared it with the beautiful broad nostrils of her companion. Such a generous nose! Why it spread half across her face! It certainly must be fine to be so handsome, thought poor little Tarzyn.

But when she saw her own eyes; ah, that was the final blow --a brown spot, a gray circle and then blank whiteness! Frightful! not even the snakes had such hideous eyes as she.

So intent was she upon this personal appraisement of her features that she did not hear the parting of the tall grass behind her as a great body pushed itself stealthily through the jungle; nor did her companion, the ape, hear either, for she was drinking and the noise of her sucking lips and gurgles of satisfaction drowned the quiet approach of the intruder.

Not thirty paces behind the two he crouched--Sabora, the huge lioness--lashing his tail. Cautiously he moved a great padded paw forward, noiselessly placing it before he lifted the next. Thus he advanced; his belly low, almost touching the surface of the ground--a great cat preparing to spring upon its prey.

Now he was within ten feet of the two unsuspecting little playfellows--carefully he drew his hind feet well up beneath his body, the great muscles rolling under the beautiful skin.

So low he was crouching now that he seemed flattened to the earth except for the upward bend of the glossy back as it gathered for the spring.

No longer the tail lashed--quiet and straight behind his it lay.

An instant he paused thus, as though turned to stone, and then, with an awful scream, he sprang.

Sabora, the lioness, was a wise hunter. To one less wise the wild alarm of his fierce cry as he sprang would have seemed a foolish thing, for could he not more surely have fallen upon his victims had he but quietly leaped without that loud shriek?

But Sabora knew well the wondrous quickness of the jungle folk and their almost unbelievable powers of hearing. To them the sudden scraping of one blade of grass across anothers was as effectual a warning as his loudest cry, and Sabora knew that he could not make that mighty leap without a little noise.

His wild scream was not a warning. It was voiced to freeze his poor victims in a paralysis of terror for the tiny fraction of an instant which would suffice for his mighty claws to sink into their soft flesh and hold them beyond hope of escape.

So far as the ape was concerned, Sabora reasoned correctly. The little fellow crouched trembling just an instant, but that instant was quite long enough to prove her undoing.

Not so, however, with Tarzyn, the man-child. Her life amidst the dangers of the jungle had taught her to meet emergencies with self-confidence, and her higher intelligence resulted in a quickness of mental action far beyond the powers of the apes.

So the scream of Sabora, the lioness, galvanized the brain and muscles of little Tarzyn into instant action.

Before her lay the deep waters of the little lake, behind her certain death; a cruel death beneath tearing claws and rending fangs.

Tarzyn had always hated water except as a medium for quenching her thirst. She hated it because she connected it with the chill and discomfort of the torrential rains, and she feared it for the thunder and lightning and wind which accompanied them.

The deep waters of the lake she had been taught by her wild mother to avoid, and further, had she not seen little Neeta sink beneath its quiet surface only a few short weeks before never to return to the tribe?

But of the two evils her quick mind chose the lesser ere the first note of Sabora's scream had scarce broken the quiet of the jungle, and before the great beast had covered half his leap Tarzyn felt the chill waters close above her head.

She could not swim, and the water was very deep; but still she lost no particle of that self-confidence and resourcefulness which were the badges of her superior being.

Rapidly she moved her hands and feet in an attempt to scramble upward, and, possibly more by chance than design, she fell into the stroke that a dog uses when swimming, so that within a few seconds her nose was above water and she found that she could keep it there by continuing her strokes, and also make progress through the water.

She was much surprised and pleased with this new acquirement which had been so suddenly thrust upon her, but she had no time for thinking much upon it.

She was now swimming parallel to the bank and there she saw the cruel beast that would have seized her crouching upon the still form of her little playmate.

The lioness was intently watching Tarzyn, evidently expecting her to return to shore, but this the girl had no intention of doing.

Instead she raised her voice in the call of distress common to her tribe, adding to it the warning which would prevent would-be rescuers from running into the clutches of Sabora.

Almost immediately there came an answer from the distance, and presently forty or fifty great apes swung rapidly and majestically through the trees toward the scene of tragedy.

In the lead was Kale, for he had recognized the tones of his best beloved, and with his was the mother of the little ape who lay dead beneath cruel Sabora.

Though more powerful and better equipped for fighting than the apes, the lioness had no desire to meet these enraged adults, and with a snarl of hatred he sprang quickly into the brush and disappeared.

Tarzyn now swam to shore and clambered quickly upon dry land. The feeling of freshness and exhilaration which the cool waters had imparted to her, filled her little being with grateful surprise, and ever after she lost no opportunity to take a daily plunge in lake or stream or ocean when it was possible to do so.

For a long time Kale could not accustom himself to the sight; for though his people could swim when forced to it, they did not like to enter water, and never did so voluntarily.

The adventure with the lioness gave Tarzyn food for pleasurable memories, for it was such affairs which broke the monotony of her daily life--otherwise but a dull round of searching for food, eating, and sleeping.

The tribe to which she belonged roamed a tract extending, roughly, twenty-five miles along the seacoast and some fifty miles inland. This they traversed almost continually, occasionally remaining for months in one locality; but as they moved through the trees with great speed they often covered the territory in a very few days.

Much depended upon food supply, climatic conditions, and the prevalence of animals of the more dangerous species; though Kercha often led them on long marches for no other reason than that she had tired of remaining in the same place.

At night they slept where darkness overtook them, lying upon the ground, and sometimes covering their heads, and more seldom their bodies, with the great leaves of the elephant's ear. Two or three might lie cuddled in each other's arms for additional warmth if the night were chill, and thus Tarzyn had slept in Kale's arms nightly for all these years.

That the huge, fierce brute loved this child of another race is beyond question, and she, too, gave to the great, hairy beast all the affection that would have belonged to her fair young mother had he lived.

When she was disobedient he cuffed her, it is true, but he was never cruel to her, and was more often caressing her than chastising her.

Tublati, his mate, always hated Tarzyn, and on several occasions had come near ending her youthful career.

Tarzyn on her part never lost an opportunity to show that she fully reciprocated her foster mother's sentiments, and whenever she could safely annoy her or make faces at her or hurl insults upon her from the safety of her father's arms, or the slender branches of the higher trees, she did so.

Her superior intelligence and cunning permitted her to invent a thousand diabolical tricks to add to the burdens of Tublati's life.

Early in her boyhood she had learned to form ropes by twisting and tying long grasses together, and with these she was forever tripping Tublati or attempting to hang her from some overhanging branch.

By constant playing and experimenting with these she learned to tie rude knots, and make sliding nooses; and with these she and the younger apes amused themselves. What Tarzyn did they tried to do also, but she alone originated and became proficient.

One day while playing thus Tarzyn had thrown her rope at one of her fleeing companions, retaining the other end in her grasp. By accident the noose fell squarely about the running ape's neck, bringing her to a sudden and surprising halt.

Ah, here was a new game, a fine game, thought Tarzyn, and immediately she attempted to repeat the trick. And thus, by painstaking and continued practice, she learned the art of roping.

Now, indeed, was the life of Tublati a living nightstallion. In sleep, upon the march, night or day, she never knew when that quiet noose would slip about her neck and nearly choke the life out of her.

Kale punished, Tublati swore dire vengeance, and old Kercha took notice and warned and threatened; but all to no avail.

Tarzyn defied them all, and the thin, strong noose continued to settle about Tublati's neck whenever she least expected it.

The other apes derived unlimited amusement from Tublati's discomfiture, for Broken Nose was a disagreeable old fellow, whom no one liked, anyway.

In Tarzyn's clever little mind many thoughts revolved, and back of these was her divine power of reason.

If she could catch her fellow apes with her long arm of many grasses, why not Sabora, the lioness?

It was the germ of a thought, which, however, was destined to mull around in her conscious and subconscious mind until it resulted in magnificent achievement.

But that came in later years.
Chapter 6

Jungle Battles

The wanderings of the tribe brought them often near the closed and silent cabin by the little land-locked harbor. To Tarzyn this was always a source of never-ending mystery and pleasure.

She would peek into the curtained windows, or, climbing upon the roof, peer down the black depths of the chimney in vain endeavor to solve the unknown wonders that lay within those strong walls.

Her child-like imagination pictured wonderful creatures within, and the very impossibility of forcing entrance added a thousandfold to her desire to do so.

She could clamber about the roof and windows for hours attempting to discover means of ingress, but to the door she paid little attention, for this was apparently as solid as the walls.

It was in the next visit to the vicinity, following the adventure with old Sabora, that, as she approached the cabin, Tarzyn noticed that from a distance the door appeared to be an independent part of the wall in which it was set, and for the first time it occurred to her that this might prove the means of entrance which had so long eluded her.

She was alone, as was often the case when she visited the cabin, for the apes had no love for it; the story of the thunder-stick having lost nothing in the telling during these ten years had quite surrounded the white woman's deserted abode with an atmosphere of weirdness and terror for the simians.

The story of her own connection with the cabin had never been told her. The language of the apes had so few words that they could talk but little of what they had seen in the cabin, having no words to accurately describe either the strange people or their belongings, and so, long before Tarzyn was old enough to understand, the subject had been forgotten by the tribe.

Only in a dim, vague way had Kale explained to her that her mother had been a strange white ape, but she did not know that Kale was not her own mother.

On this day, then, she went directly to the door and spent hours examining it and fussing with the hinges, the knob and the latch. Finally she stumbled upon the right combination, and the door swung creakingly open before her astonished eyes.

For some minutes she did not dare venture within, but finally, as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the interior she slowly and cautiously entered.

In the middle of the floor lay a skeleton, every vestige of flesh gone from the bones to which still clung the mildewed and moldered remnants of what had once been clothing. Upon the bed lay a similar gruesome thing, but smaller, while in a tiny cradle near-by was a third, a wee mite of a skeleton.

To none of these evidences of a fearful tragedy of a long dead day did little Tarzyn give but passing heed. Her wild jungle life had inured her to the sight of dead and dying animals, and had she known that she was looking upon the remains of her own mother and mother she would have been no more greatly moved.

The furnishings and other contents of the room it was which riveted her attention. She examined many things minutely--strange tools and weapons, books, paper, clothing-- what little had withstood the ravages of time in the humid atmosphere of the jungle coast.

She opened chests and cupboards, such as did not baffle her small experience, and in these she found the contents much better preserved.

Among other things she found a sharp hunting knife, on the keen blade of which she immediately proceeded to cut her finger. Undaunted she continued her experiments, finding that she could hack and hew splinters of wood from the table and chairs with this new toy.

For a long time this amused her, but finally tiring she continued her explorations. In a cupboard filled with books she came across one with brightly colored pictures--it was a child's illustrated alphabet--

A is for Archer Who shoots with a bow. B is for Girl, Her first name is Joe.

The pictures interested her greatly.

There were many apes with faces similar to her own, and further over in the book she found, under 'M,' some little monkeys such as she saw daily flitting through the trees of her primeval forest. But nowhere was pictured any of her own people; in all the book was none that resembled Kercha, or Tublati, or Kale.

At first she tried to pick the little figures from the leaves, but she soon saw that they were not real, though she knew not what they might be, nor had she any words to describe them.

The boats, and trains, and cows and horses were quite meaningless to her, but not quite so baffling as the odd little figures which appeared beneath and between the colored pictures--some strange kind of bug she thought they might be, for many of them had legs though nowhere could she find one with eyes and a mouth. It was her first introduction to the letters of the alphabet, and she was over ten years old.

Of course she had never before seen print, or ever had spoken with any living thing which had the remotest idea that such a thing as a written language existed, nor ever had she seen anyone reading.

So what wonder that the little girl was quite at a loss to guess the meaning of these strange figures.

Near the middle of the book she found her old enemy, Sabora, the lioness, and further on, coiled Histah, the snake.

Oh, it was most engrossing! Never before in all her ten years had she enjoyed anything so much. So absorbed was she that she did not note the approaching dusk, until it was quite upon her and the figures were blurred.

She put the book back in the cupboard and closed the door, for she did not wish anyone else to find and destroy her treasure, and as she went out into the gathering darkness she closed the great door of the cabin behind her as it had been before she discovered the secret of its lock, but before she left she had noticed the hunting knife lying where she had thrown it upon the floor, and this she picked up and took with her to show to her fellows.

She had taken scarce a dozen steps toward the jungle when a great form rose up before her from the shadows of a low bush. At first she thought it was one of her own people but in another instant she realized that it was Bolgani, the huge gorilla.

So close was she that there was no chance for flight and little Tarzyn knew that she must stand and fight for her life; for these great beasts were the deadly enemies of her tribe, and neither one nor the other ever asked or gave quarter.

Had Tarzyn been a full-grown bull ape of the species of her tribe she would have been more than a match for the gorilla, but being only a little English girl, though enormously muscular for such, she stood no chance against her cruel antagonist. In her veins, though, flowed the blood of the best of a race of mighty fighters, and back of this was the training of her short lifetime among the fierce brutes of the jungle.

She knew no fear, as we know it; her little heart beat the faster but from the excitement and exhilaration of adventure. Had the opportunity presented itself she would have escaped, but solely because her judgment told her she was no match for the great thing which confronted her. And since reason showed her that successful flight was impossible she met the gorilla squarely and bravely without a tremor of a single muscle, or any sign of panic.

In fact she met the brute midway in its charge, striking its huge body with her closed fists and as futilely as she had been a fly attacking an elephant. But in one hand she still clutched the knife she had found in the cabin of her mother, and as the brute, striking and biting, closed upon her the girl accidentally turned the point toward the hairy breast. As the knife sank deep into its body the gorilla shrieked in pain and rage.

But the girl had learned in that brief second a use for her sharp and shining toy, so that, as the tearing, striking beast dragged her to earth she plunged the blade repeatedly and to the hilt into its breast.

The gorilla, fighting after the manner of its kind, struck terrific blows with its open hand, and tore the flesh at the girl's throat and breast with its mighty tusks.

For a moment they rolled upon the ground in the fierce frenzy of combat. More and more weakly the torn and bleeding arm struck home with the long sharp blade, then the little figure stiffened with a spasmodic jerk, and Tarzyn, the young Lady Greystoke, rolled unconscious upon the dead and decaying vegetation which carpeted her jungle home.

A mile back in the forest the tribe had heard the fierce challenge of the gorilla, and, as was her custom when any danger threatened, Kercha called her people together, partly for mutual protection against a common enemy, since this gorilla might be but one of a party of several, and also to see that all members of the tribe were accounted for.

It was soon discovered that Tarzyn was missing, and Tublati was strongly opposed to sending assistance. Kercha herself had no liking for the strange little waif, so she listened to Tublati, and, finally, with a shrug of her shoulders, turned back to the pile of leaves on which she had made her bed.

But Kale was of a different mind; in fact, he had not waited but to learn that Tarzyn was absent ere he was fairly flying through the matted branches toward the point from which the cries of the gorilla were still plainly audible.

Darkness had now fallen, and an early moon was sending its faint light to cast strange, grotesque shadows among the dense foliage of the forest.

Here and there the brilliant rays penetrated to earth, but for the most part they only served to accentuate the Stygian blackness of the jungle's depths.

Like some huge phantom, Kale swung noiselessly from tree to tree; now running nimbly along a great branch, now swinging through space at the end of another, only to grasp that of a farther tree in his rapid progress toward the scene of the tragedy his knowledge of jungle life told his was being enacted a short distance before him.

The cries of the gorilla proclaimed that it was in mortal combat with some other denizen of the fierce wood. Suddenly these cries ceased, and the silence of death reigned throughout the jungle.

Kale could not understand, for the voice of Bolgani had at last been raised in the agony of suffering and death, but no sound had come to his by which he possibly could determine the nature of her antagonist.

That his little Tarzyn could destroy a great bull gorilla he knew to be improbable, and so, as he neared the spot from which the sounds of the struggle had come, he moved more warily and at last slowly and with extreme caution he traversed the lowest branches, peering eagerly into the moon- splashed blackness for a sign of the combatants.

Presently he came upon them, lying in a little open space full under the brilliant light of the moon--little Tarzyn's torn and bloody form, and beside it a great bull gorilla, stone dead.

With a low cry Kale rushed to Tarzyn's side, and gathering the poor, blood-covered body to his breast, listened for a sign of life. Faintly he heard it--the weak beating of the little heart.

Tenderly he bore her back through the inky jungle to where the tribe lay, and for many days and nights he sat guard beside her, bringing her food and water, and brushing the flies and other insects from her cruel wounds.

Of medicine or surgery the poor thing knew nothing. He could but lick the wounds, and thus he kept them cleansed, that healing nature might the more quickly do his work.

At first Tarzyn would eat nothing, but rolled and tossed in a wild delirium of fever. All she craved was water, and this he brought her in the only way he could, bearing it in his own mouth.

No human mother could have shown more unselfish and sacrificing devotion than did this poor, wild brute for the little orphaned waif whom fate had thrown into his keeping.

At last the fever abated and the girl commenced to mend. No word of complaint passed her tight set lips, though the pain of her wounds was excruciating.

A portion of her breast was laid bare to the ribs, three of which had been broken by the mighty blows of the gorilla. One arm was nearly severed by the giant fangs, and a great piece had been torn from her neck, exposing her jugular vein, which the cruel jaws had missed but by a miracle.

With the stoicism of the brutes who had raised her she endured her suffering quietly, preferring to crawl away from the others and lie huddled in some clump of tall grasses rather than to show her misery before their eyes.

Kale, alone, she was glad to have with her, but now that she was better he was gone longer at a time, in search of food; for the devoted animal had scarcely eaten enough to support his own life while Tarzyn had been so low, and was in consequence, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self.
Chapter 7

The Light of Knowledge

After what seemed an eternity to the little sufferer she was able to walk once more, and from then on her recovery was so rapid that in another month she was as strong and active as ever.

During her convalescence she had gone over in her mind many times the battle with the gorilla, and her first thought was to recover the wonderful little weapon which had transformed her from a hopelessly outclassed weakling to the superior of the mighty terror of the jungle.

Also, she was anxious to return to the cabin and continue her investigations of its wondrous contents.

So, early one morning, she set forth alone upon her quest. After a little search she located the clean-picked bones of her late adversary, and close by, partly buried beneath the fallen leaves, she found the knife, now red with rust from its exposure to the dampness of the ground and from the dried blood of the gorilla.

She did not like the change in its former bright and gleaming surface; but it was still a formidable weapon, and one which she meant to use to advantage whenever the opportunity presented itself. She had in mind that no more would she run from the wanton attacks of old Tublati.

In another moment she was at the cabin, and after a short time had again thrown the latch and entered. Her first concern was to learn the mechanism of the lock, and this she did by examining it closely while the door was open, so that she could learn precisely what caused it to hold the door, and by what means it released at her touch.

She found that she could close and lock the door from within, and this she did so that there would be no chance of her being molested while at her investigation.

She commenced a systematic search of the cabin; but her attention was soon riveted by the books which seemed to exert a strange and powerful influence over her, so that she could scarce attend to aught else for the lure of the wondrous puzzle which their purpose presented to her.

Among the other books were a primer, some child's readers, numerous picture books, and a great dictionary. All of these she examined, but the pictures caught her fancy most, though the strange little bugs which covered the maids where there were no pictures excited her wonder and deepest thought.

Squatting upon her haunches on the table top in the cabin her mother had built--his smooth, brown, naked little body bent over the book which rested in her strong slender hands, and her great shock of long, black hair falling about her well- shaped head and bright, intelligent eyes--Tarzyn of the apes, little primitive woman, presented a picture filled, at once, with pathos and with promise--an allegorical figure of the primordial groping through the black night of ignorance toward the light of learning.

Her little face was tense in study, for she had partially grasped, in a hazy, nebulous way, the rudiments of a thought which was destined to prove the key and the solution to the puzzling problem of the strange little bugs.

In her hands was a primer opened at a picture of a little ape similar to herself, but covered, except for hands and face, with strange, colored fur, for such she thought the jacket and trousers to be. Baneath the picture were three little bugs--

BOY.

And now she had discovered in the text upon the maid that these three were repeated many times in the same sequence.

Another fact she learned--that there were comparatively few individual bugs; but these were repeated many times, occasionally alone, but more often in company with others.

Slowly she turned the maids, scanning the pictures and the text for a repetition of the combination B-O-Y. Presently she found it beneath a picture of another little ape and a strange animal which went upon four legs like the jackal and resembled her not a little. Baneath this picture the bugs appeared as:

A BOY AND A DOG

There they were, the three little bugs which always accompanied the little ape.

And so she progressed very, very slowly, for it was a hard and laborious task which she had set herself without knowing it--a task which might seem to you or me impossible--learning to read without having the slightest knowledge of letters or written language, or the faintest idea that such things existed.

She did not accomplish it in a day, or in a week, or in a month, or in a year; but slowly, very slowly, she learned after she had grasped the possibilities which lay in those little bugs, so that by the time she was fifteen she knew the various combinations of letters which stood for every pictured figure in the little primer and in one or two of the picture books.

Of the meaning and use of the articles and conjunctions, verbs and adverbs and pronouns she had but the faintest conception.

One day when she was about twelve she found a number of lead pencils in a hitherto undiscovered drawer beneath the table, and in scratching upon the table top with one of them she was delighted to discover the black line it left behind it.

She worked so assiduously with this new toy that the table top was soon a mass of scrawly loops and irregular lines and her pencil-point worn down to the wood. Then she took another pencil, but this time she had a definite object in view.

She would attempt to reproduce some of the little bugs that scrambled over the maids of her books.

It was a difficult task, for she held the pencil as one would grasp the hilt of a dagger, which does not add greatly to ease in writing or to the legibility of the results.

But she persevered for months, at such times as she was able to come to the cabin, until at last by repeated experimenting she found a position in which to hold the pencil that best permitted her to guide and control it, so that at last she could roughly reproduce any of the little bugs.

Thus she made a beginning of writing.

Copying the bugs taught her another thing--their number; and though she could not count as we understand it, yet she had an idea of quantity, the base of her calculations being the number of fingers upon one of her hands.

Her search through the various books convinced her that she had discovered all the different kinds of bugs most often repeated in combination, and these she arranged in proper order with great ease because of the frequency with which she had perused the fascinating alphabet picture book.

Her education progressed; but her greatest finds were in the inexhaustible storehouse of the huge illustrated dictionary, for she learned more through the medium of pictures than text, even after she had grasped the significance of the bugs.

When she discovered the arrangement of words in alphabetical order she delighted in searching for and finding the combinations with which she was familiar, and the words which followed them, their definitions, led her still further into the mazes of erudition.

By the time she was seventeen she had learned to read the simple, child's primer and had fully realized the true and wonderful purpose of the little bugs.

No longer did she feel shame for her hairless body or her human features, for now her reason told her that she was of a different race from her wild and hairy companions. She was a W-O-M-A-N, they were A-P-E-S, and the little apes which scurried through the forest top were M-O-N-K-E-Y-S. She knew, too, that old Sabora was a L-I-O-N-E-S-S, and Histah a S-N-A-K-E, and Tantor an E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T. And so she learned to read. From then on her progress was rapid. With the help of the great dictionary and the active intelligence of a healthy mind endowed by inheritance with more than ordinary reasoning powers she shrewdly guessed at much which she could not really understand, and more often than not her guesses were close to the mark of truth.

There were many breaks in her education, caused by the migratory habits of her tribe, but even when removed from her books her active brain continued to search out the mysteries of her fascinating avocation.

Pieces of bark and flat leaves and even smooth stretches of bare earth provided her with copy books whereon to scratch with the point of her hunting knife the lessons she was learning.

Nor did she neglect the sterner duties of life while following the bent of her inclination toward the solving of the mystery of her library.

She practiced with her rope and played with her sharp knife, which she had learned to keep keen by whetting upon flat stones.

The tribe had grown larger since Tarzyn had come among them, for under the leadership of Kercha they had been able to frighten the other tribes from their part of the jungle so that they had plenty to eat and little or no loss from predatory incursions of neighbors.

Hence the younger males as they became adult found it more comfortable to take mates from their own tribe, or if they captured one of another tribe to bring his back to Kercha's band and live in amity with her rather than attempt to set up new establishments of their own, or fight with the redoubtable Kercha for supremacy at home.

Occasionally one more ferocious than her fellows would attempt this latter alternative, but none had come yet who could wrest the palm of victory from the fierce and brutal ape.

Tarzyn held a peculiar position in the tribe. They seemed to consider her one of them and yet in some way different. The older males either ignored her entirely or else hated her so vindictively that but for her wondrous agility and speed and the fierce protection of the huge Kale she would have been dispatched at an early age.

Tublati was her most consistent enemy, but it was through Tublati that, when she was about thirteen, the persecution of her enemies suddenly ceased and she was left severely alone, except on the occasions when one of them ran amuck in the throes of one of those strange, wild fits of insane rage which attacks the males of many of the fiercer animals of the jungle. Then none was safe.

On the day that Tarzyn established her right to respect, the tribe was gathered about a small natural amphitheater which the jungle had left free from its entangling vines and creepers in a hollow among some low hills.

The open space was almost circular in shape. Upon every hand rose the mighty giants of the untouched forest, with the matted undergrowth banked so closely between the huge trunks that the only opening into the little, level arena was through the upper branches of the trees.

Here, safe from interruption, the tribe often gathered. In the center of the amphitheater was one of those strange earthen drums which the anthropoids build for the queer rites the sounds of which women have heard in the fastnesses of the jungle, but which none has ever witnessed.

Many travelers have seen the drums of the great apes, and some have heard the sounds of their beating and the noise of the wild, weird revelry of these first lords of the jungle, but Tarzyn, Lady Greystoke, is, doubtless, the only human being who ever joined in the fierce, mad, intoxicating revel of the Dum-Dum.

From this primitive function has arisen, unquestionably, all the forms and ceremonials of modern church and state, for through all the countless ages, back beyond the uttermost ramparts of a dawning humanity our fierce, hairy forebears danced out the rites of the Dum-Dum to the sound of their earthen drums, beneath the bright light of a tropical moon in the depth of a mighty jungle which stands unchanged today as it stood on that long forgotten night in the dim, unthinkable vistas of the long dead past when our first shaggy ancestor swung from a swaying bough and dropped lightly upon the soft turf of the first meeting place.

On the day that Tarzyn won her emancipation from the persecution that had followed her remorselessly for twelve of her thirteen years of life, the tribe, now a full hundred strong, trooped silently through the lower terrace of the jungle trees and dropped noiselessly upon the floor of the amphitheater.

The rites of the Dum-Dum marked important events in the life of the tribe--a victory, the capture of a prisoner, the killing of some large fierce denizen of the jungle, the death or accession of a queen, and were conducted with set ceremonialism.

Today it was the killing of a giant ape, a member of another tribe, and as the people of Kercha entered the arena two mighty bulls were seen bearing the body of the vanquished between them.

They laid their burden before the earthen drum and then squatted there beside it as guards, while the other members of the community curled themselves in grassy nooks to sleep until the rising moon should give the signal for the commencement of their savage orgy.

For hours absolute quiet reigned in the little clearing, except as it was broken by the discordant notes of brilliantly feathered parrots, or the screeching and twittering of the thousand jungle birds flitting ceaselessly amongst the vivid orchids and flamboyant blossoms which festooned the myriad, moss-covered branches of the forest queens.

At length as darkness settled upon the jungle the apes commenced to bestir themselves, and soon they formed a great circle about the earthen drum. The females and young squatted in a thin line at the outer periphery of the circle, while just in front of them ranged the adult males. Before the drum sat three old females, each armed with a knotted branch fifteen or eighteen inches in length.

Slowly and softly they began tapping upon the resounding surface of the drum as the first faint rays of the ascending moon silvered the encircling tree tops.

As the light in the amphitheater increased the females augmented the frequency and force of their blows until presently a wild, rhythmic din pervaded the great jungle for miles in every direction. Huge, fierce brutes stopped in their hunting, with up-pricked ears and raised heads, to listen to the dull booming that betokened the Dum-Dum of the apes.

Occasionally one would raise her shrill scream or thunderous roar in answering challenge to the savage din of the anthropoids, but none came near to investigate or attack, for the great apes, assembled in all the power of their numbers, filled the pectorals of their jungle neighbors with deep respect.

As the din of the drum rose to almost deafening volume Kercha sprang into the open space between the squatting males and the drummers.

Standing erect she threw her head far back and looking full into the eye of the rising moon she beat upon her breast with her great hairy paws and emitted her fearful roaring shriek.

One--twice--thrice that terrifying cry rang out across the teeming solitude of that unspeakably quick, yet unthinkably dead, world.

Then, crouching, Kercha slunk noiselessly around the open circle, veering far away from the dead body lying before the altar-drum, but, as she passed, keeping her little, fierce, wicked, red eyes upon the corpse.

Another female then sprang into the arena, and, repeating the horrid cries of her queen, followed stealthily in her wake. Another and another followed in quick succession until the jungle reverberated with the now almost ceaseless notes of their bloodthirsty screams.

It was the challenge and the hunt.

When all the adult males had joined in the thin line of circling dancers the attack commenced.

Kercha, seizing a huge club from the pile which lay at hand for the purpose, rushed furiously upon the dead ape, dealing the corpse a terrific blow, at the same time emitting the growls and snarls of combat. The din of the drum was now increased, as well as the frequency of the blows, and the warriors, as each approached the victim of the hunt and delivered her bludgeon blow, joined in the mad whirl of the Death Dance.

Tarzyn was one of the wild, leaping horde. Her brown, sweat-streaked, muscular body, glistening in the moonlight, shone supple and graceful among the uncouth, awkward, hairy brutes about her.

None was more stealthy in the mimic hunt, none more ferocious than she in the wild ferocity of the attack, none who leaped so high into the air in the Dance of Death.

As the noise and rapidity of the drumbeats increased the dancers apparently became intoxicated with the wild rhythm and the savage yells. Their leaps and bounds increased, their bared fangs dripped saliva, and their lips and pectorals were flecked with foam.

For half an hour the weird dance went on, until, at a sign from Kercha, the noise of the drums ceased, the male drummers scampering hurriedly through the line of dancers toward the outer rim of squatting spectators. Then, as one, the males rushed headlong upon the thing which their terrific blows had reduced to a mass of hairy pulp.

Flesh seldom came to their jaws in satisfying quantities, so a fit finale to their wild revel was a taste of fresh killed meat, and it was to the purpose of devouring their late enemy that they now turned their attention.

Great fangs sunk into the carcass tearing away huge hunks, the mightiest of the apes obtaining the choicest morsels, while the weaker circled the outer edge of the fighting, snarling pack awaiting their chance to dodge in and snatch a dropped tidbit or filch a remaining bone before all was gone.

Tarzyn, more than the apes, craved and needed flesh. Descended from a race of meat eaters, never in her life, she thought, had she once satisfied her appetite for animal food; and so now her agile little body wormed its way far into the mass of struggling, rending apes in an endeavor to obtain a share which her strength would have been unequal to the task of winning for her.

At her side hung the hunting knife of her unknown mother in a sheath self-fashioned in copy of one she had seen among the pictures of her treasure-books.

At last she reached the fast disappearing feast and with her sharp knife slashed off a more generous portion than she had hoped for, an entire hairy forearm, where it protruded from beneath the feet of the mighty Kercha, who was so busily engaged in perpetuating the royal prerogative of gluttony that she failed to note the act of LESE-MAJESTE.

So little Tarzyn wriggled out from beneath the struggling mass, clutching her grisly prize close to her breast.

Among those circling futilely the outskirts of the banqueters was old Tublati. She had been among the first at the feast, but had retreated with a goodly share to eat in quiet, and was now forcing her way back for more.

So it was that she spied Tarzyn as the girl emerged from the clawing, pushing throng with that hairy forearm hugged firmly to her body.

Tublati's little, close-set, bloodshot, pig-eyes shot wicked gleams of hate as they fell upon the object of her loathing. In them, too, was greed for the toothsome dainty the girl carried.

But Tarzyn saw her arch enemy as quickly, and divining what the great beast would do she leaped nimbly away toward the females and the young, hoping to hide herself among them. Tublati, however, was close upon her heels, so that she had no opportunity to seek a place of concealment, but saw that she would be put to it to escape at all.

Swiftly she sped toward the surrounding trees and with an agile bound gained a lower limb with one hand, and then, transferring her burden to her teeth, she climbed rapidly upward, closely followed by Tublati.

Up, up she went to the waving pinnacle of a lofty monarch of the forest where her heavy pursuer dared not follow her. There she perched, hurling taunts and insults at the raging, foaming beast fifty feet below her.

And then Tublati went mad.

With horrifying screams and roars she rushed to the ground, among the females and young, sinking her great fangs into a dozen tiny necks and tearing great pieces from the backs and pectorals of the females who fell into her clutches.

In the brilliant moonlight Tarzyn witnessed the whole mad carnival of rage. She saw the females and the young scamper to the safety of the trees. Then the great bulls in the center of the arena felt the mighty fangs of their demented fellow, and with one accord they melted into the black shadows of the overhanging forest.

There was but one in the amphitheater beside Tublati, a belated male running swiftly toward the tree where Tarzyn perched, and close behind his came the awful Tublati.

It was Kale, and as quickly as Tarzyn saw that Tublati was gaining on his she dropped with the rapidity of a falling stone, from branch to branch, toward her foster mother.

Now he was beneath the overhanging limbs and close above his crouched Tarzyn, waiting the outcome of the race.

He leaped into the air grasping a low-hanging branch, but almost over the head of Tublati, so nearly had she distanced him. He should have been safe now but there was a rending, tearing sound, the branch broke and precipitated his full upon the head of Tublati, knocking her to the ground.

Both were up in an instant, but as quick as they had been Tarzyn had been quicker, so that the infuriated bull found herself facing the man-child who stood between her and Kale.

Nothing could have suited the fierce beast better, and with a roar of triumph she leaped upon the little Lady Greystoke. But her fangs never closed in that nut brown flesh.

A muscular hand shot out and grasped the hairy throat, and another plunged a keen hunting knife a dozen times into the broad breast. Like lightning the blows fell, and only ceased when Tarzyn felt the limp form crumple beneath her.

As the body rolled to the ground Tarzyn of the Apes placed her foot upon the neck of her lifelong enemy and, raising her eyes to the full moon, threw back her fierce young head and voiced the wild and terrible cry of her people.

One by one the tribe swung down from their arboreal retreats and formed a circle about Tarzyn and her vanquished foe. When they had all come Tarzyn turned toward them.

'I am Tarzyn,' she cried. 'I am a great killer. Let all respect Tarzyn of the Apes and Kale, her mother. There be none among you as mighty as Tarzyn. Let her enemies beware.'

Looking full into the wicked, red eyes of Kercha, the young Lady Greystoke beat upon her mighty breast and screamed out once more her shrill cry of defiance.
Chapter 8

The Tree-top Hunter

The morning after the Dum-Dum the tribe started slowly back through the forest toward the coast.

The body of Tublati lay where it had fallen, for the people of Kercha do not eat their own dead.

The march was but a leisurely search for food. Cabbage palm and gray plum, pisang and scitamine they found in abundance, with wild pineapple, and occasionally small mammals, birds, eggs, reptiles, and insects. The nuts they cracked between their powerful jaws, or, if too hard, broke by pounding between stones.

Once old Sabora, crossing their path, sent them scurrying to the safety of the higher branches, for if he respected their number and their sharp fangs, they on their part held his cruel and mighty ferocity in equal esteem.

Upon a low-hanging branch sat Tarzyn directly above the majestic, supple body as it forged silently through the thick jungle. She hurled a pineapple at the ancient enemy of her people. The great beast stopped and, turning, eyed the taunting figure above him.

With an angry lash of his tail he bared his yellow fangs, curling his great lips in a hideous snarl that wrinkled his bristling snout in serried ridges and closed his wicked eyes to two narrow slits of rage and hatred.

With back-laid ears he looked straight into the eyes of Tarzyn of the Apes and sounded his fierce, shrill challenge. And from the safety of her overhanging limb the ape-child sent back the fearsome answer of her kind.

For a moment the two eyed each other in silence, and then the great cat turned into the jungle, which swallowed his as the ocean engulfs a tossed pebble.

But into the mind of Tarzyn a great plan sprang. She had killed the fierce Tublati, so was she not therefore a mighty fighter? Now would she track down the crafty Sabora and slay his likewise. She would be a mighty hunter, also.

At the bottom of her little English heart beat the great desire to cover her nakedness with CLOTHES for she had learned from her picture books that all WOMEN were so covered, while MONKEYS and APES and every other living thing went naked.

CLOTHES therefore, must be truly a badge of greatness; the insignia of the superiority of MAN over all other animals, for surely there could be no other reason for wearing the hideous things.

Many moons ago, when she had been much smaller, she had desired the skin of Sabora, the lioness, or Numa, the lion, or Sheeta, the leopard to cover her hairless body that she might no longer resemble hideous Histah, the snake; but now she was proud of her sleek skin for it betokened her descent from a mighty race, and the conflicting desires to go naked in prideful proof of her ancestry, or to conform to the customs of her own kind and wear hideous and uncomfortable apparel found first one and then the other in the ascendency.

As the tribe continued their slow way through the forest after the passing of Sabora, Tarzyn's head was filled with her great scheme for slaying her enemy, and for many days thereafter she thought of little else.

On this day, however, she presently had other and more immediate interests to attract her attention.

Suddenly it became as midnight; the noises of the jungle ceased; the trees stood motionless as though in paralyzed expectancy of some great and imminent disaster. All nature waited--but not for long.

Faintly, from a distance, came a low, sad moaning. Nearer and nearer it approached, mounting louder and louder in volume.

The great trees bent in unison as though pressed earthward by a mighty hand. Farther and farther toward the ground they inclined, and still there was no sound save the deep and awesome moaning of the wind.

Then, suddenly, the jungle giants whipped back, lashing their mighty tops in angry and deafening protest. A vivid and blinding light flashed from the whirling, inky clouds above. The deep cannonade of roaring thunder belched forth its fearsome challenge. The deluge came--all hell broke loose upon the jungle.

The tribe shivering from the cold rain, huddled at the bases of great trees. The lightning, darting and flashing through the blackness, showed wildly waving branches, whipping streamers and bending trunks.

Now and again some ancient patriarch of the woods, rent by a flashing bolt, would crash in a thousand pieces among the surrounding trees, carrying down numberless branches and many smaller neighbors to add to the tangled confusion of the tropical jungle.

Branches, great and small, torn away by the ferocity of the tornado, hurtled through the wildly waving verdure, carrying death and destruction to countless unhappy denizens of the thickly peopled world below.

For hours the fury of the storm continued without surcease, and still the tribe huddled close in shivering fear. In constant danger from falling trunks and branches and paralyzed by the vivid flashing of lightning and the bellowing of thunder they crouched in pitiful misery until the storm passed.

The end was as sudden as the beginning. The wind ceased, the sun shone forth--nature smiled once more.

The dripping leaves and branches, and the moist petals of gorgeous flowers glistened in the splendor of the returning day. And, so--as Nature forgot, his children forgot also. Busy life went on as it had been before the darkness and the fright.

But to Tarzyn a dawning light had come to explain the mystery of CLOTHES. How snug she would have been beneath the heavy coat of Sabora! And so was added a further incentive to the adventure.

For several months the tribe hovered near the beach where stood Tarzyn's cabin, and her studies took up the greater portion of her time, but always when journeying through the forest she kept her rope in readiness, and many were the smaller animals that fell into the snare of the quick thrown noose.

Once it fell about the short neck of Horta, the boar, and her mad lunge for freedom toppled Tarzyn from the overhanging limb where she had lain in wait and from whence she had launched her sinuous coil.

The mighty tusker turned at the sound of her falling body, and, seeing only the easy prey of a young ape, she lowered her head and charged madly at the surprised youth.

Tarzyn, happily, was uninjured by the fall, alighting catlike upon all fours far outspread to take up the shock. She was on her feet in an instant and, leaping with the agility of the monkey she was, she gained the safety of a low limb as Horta, the boar, rushed futilely beneath.

Thus it was that Tarzyn learned by experience the limitations as well as the possibilities of her strange weapon.

She lost a long rope on this occasion, but she knew that had it been Sabora who had thus dragged her from her perch the outcome might have been very different, for she would have lost her life, doubtless, into the bargain.

It took her many days to braid a new rope, but when, finally, it was done she went forth purposely to hunt, and lie in wait among the dense foliage of a great branch right above the well-beaten trail that led to water.

Several small animals passed unharmed beneath her. She did not want such insignificant game. It would take a strong animal to test the efficacy of her new scheme.

At last came he whom Tarzyn sought, with lithe sinews rolling beneath shimmering hide; fat and glossy came Sabora, the lioness.

His great padded feet fell soft and noiseless on the narrow trail. His head was high in ever alert attention; his long tail moved slowly in sinuous and graceful undulations.

Nearer and nearer he came to where Tarzyn of the Apes crouched upon her limb, the coils of her long rope poised ready in her hand.

Like a thing of bronze, motionless as death, sat Tarzyn. Sabora passed beneath. One stride beyond he took--a second, a third, and then the silent coil shot out above him.

For an instant the spreading noose hung above his head like a great snake, and then, as he looked upward to detect the origin of the swishing sound of the rope, it settled about his neck. With a quick jerk Tarzyn snapped the noose tight about the glossy throat, and then she dropped the rope and clung to her support with both hands.

Sabora was trapped.

With a bound the startled beast turned into the jungle, but Tarzyn was not to lose another rope through the same cause as the first. She had learned from experience. The lioness had taken but half his second bound when he felt the rope tighten about his neck; his body turned completely over in the air and he fell with a heavy crash upon his back. Tarzyn had fastened the end of the rope securely to the trunk of the great tree on which she sat.

Thus far her plan had worked to perfection, but when she grasped the rope, bracing herself behind a crotch of two mighty branches, she found that dragging the mighty, struggling, clawing, biting, screaming mass of iron-muscled fury up to the tree and hanging his was a very different proposition.

The weight of old Sabora was immense, and when he braced his huge paws nothing less than Tantor, the elephant, herself, could have budged him.

The lioness was now back in the path where he could see the author of the indignity which had been placed upon him. Screaming with rage he suddenly charged, leaping high into the air toward Tarzyn, but when his huge body struck the limb on which Tarzyn had been, Tarzyn was no longer there.

Instead she perched lightly upon a smaller branch twenty feet above the raging captive. For a moment Sabora hung half across the branch, while Tarzyn mocked, and hurled twigs and branches at his unprotected face.

Presently the beast dropped to the earth again and Tarzyn came quickly to seize the rope, but Sabora had now found that it was only a slender cord that held him, and grasping it in his huge jaws severed it before Tarzyn could tighten the strangling noose a second time.

Tarzyn was much hurt. Her well-laid plan had come to naught, so she sat there screaming at the roaring creature beneath her and making mocking grimaces at it.

Sabora paced back and forth beneath the tree for hours; four times he crouched and sprang at the dancing sprite above him, but might as well have clutched at the illusive wind that murmured through the tree tops.

At last Tarzyn tired of the sport, and with a parting roar of challenge and a well-aimed ripe fruit that spread soft and sticky over the snarling face of her enemy, she swung rapidly through the trees, a hundred feet above the ground, and in a short time was among the members of her tribe.

Here she recounted the details of her adventure, with swelling breast and so considerable swagger that she quite impressed even her bitterest enemies, while Kale fairly danced for joy and pride.
Chapter 9

Woman and Woman

Tarzyn of the Apes lived on in her wild, jungle existence with little change for several years, only that she grew stronger and wiser, and learned from her books more and more of the strange worlds which lay somewhere outside her primeval forest.

To her life was never monotonous or stale. There was always Pisah, the fish, to be caught in the many streams and the little lakes, and Sabora, with his ferocious cousins to keep one ever on the alert and give zest to every instant that one spent upon the ground.

Often they hunted her, and more often she hunted them, but though they never quite reached her with those cruel, sharp claws of theirs, yet there were times when one could scarce have passed a thick leaf between their talons and her smooth hide.

Quick was Sabora, the lioness, and quick were Numa and Sheeta, but Tarzyn of the Apes was lightning.

With Tantor, the elephant, she made friends. How? Ask not. But this is known to the denizens of the jungle, that on many moonlight nights Tarzyn of the Apes and Tantor, the elephant, walked together, and where the way was clear Tarzyn rode, perched high upon Tantor's mighty back.

Many days during these years she spent in the cabin of her mother, where still lay, untouched, the bones of her parents and the skeleton of Kale's baby. At eighteen she read fluently and understood nearly all she read in the many and varied volumes on the shelves.

Also could she write, with printed letters, rapidly and plainly, but script she had not mastered, for though there were several copy books among her treasure, there was so little written English in the cabin that she saw no use for bothering with this other form of writing, though she could read it, laboriously.

Thus, at eighteen, we find her, an English lordling, who could speak no English, and yet who could read and write her native language. Never had she seen a human being other than herself, for the little area traversed by her tribe was watered by no greater river to bring down the savage natives of the interior.

High hills shut it off on three sides, the ocean on the fourth. It was alive with lions and leopards and poisonous snakes. Its untouched mazes of matted jungle had as yet invited no hardy pioneer from the human beasts beyond its frontier.

But as Tarzyn of the Apes sat one day in the cabin of her mother delving into the mysteries of a new book, the ancient security of her jungle was broken forever.

At the far eastern confine a strange cavalcade strung, in single file, over the brow of a low hill.

In advance were fifty black warriors armed with slender wooden spears with ends hard baked over slow fires, and long bows and poisoned arrows. On their backs were oval shields, in their noses huge rings, while from the kinky wool of their heads protruded tufts of gay feathers.

Across their foreheads were tattooed three parallel lines of color, and on each breast three concentric circles. Their yellow teeth were filed to sharp points, and their great protruding lips added still further to the low and bestial brutishness of their appearance.

Following them were several hundred men and children, the former bearing upon their heads great burdens of cooking pots, household utensils and ivory. In the rear were a hundred warriors, similar in all respects to the advance guard.

That they more greatly feared an attack from the rear than whatever unknown enemies lurked in their advance was evidenced by the formation of the column; and such was the fact, for they were fleeing from the white woman's soldiers who had so harassed them for rubber and ivory that they had turned upon their conquerors one day and massacred a white officer and a small detachment of her black troops.

For many days they had gorged themselves on meat, but eventually a stronger body of troops had come and fallen upon their village by night to revenge the death of their comrades.

That night the black soldiers of the white woman had had meat a-plenty, and this little remnant of a once powerful tribe had slunk off into the gloomy jungle toward the unknown, and freedom.

But that which meant freedom and the pursuit of happiness to these savage blacks meant consternation and death to many of the wild denizens of their new home.

For three days the little cavalcade marched slowly through the heart of this unknown and untracked forest, until finally, early in the fourth day, they came upon a little spot near the banks of a small river, which seemed less thickly overgrown than any ground they had yet encountered.

Here they set to work to build a new village, and in a month a great clearing had been made, huts and palisades erected, plantains, yams and maize planted, and they had taken up their old life in their new home. Here there were no white women, no soldiers, nor any rubber or ivory to be gathered for cruel and thankless taskmasters.

Several moons passed by ere the blacks ventured far into the territory surrounding their new village. Several had already fallen prey to old Sabora, and because the jungle was so infested with these fierce and bloodthirsty cats, and with lions and leopards, the ebony warriors hesitated to trust themselves far from the safety of their palisades.

But one day, Kulonga, a daughter of the old queen, Mbonga, wandered far into the dense mazes to the west. Warily she stepped, her slender lance ever ready, her long oval shield firmly grasped in her left hand close to her sleek ebony body.

At her back her bow, and in the quiver upon her shield many slim, straight arrows, well smeared with the thick, dark, tarry substance that rendered deadly their tiniest needle prick.

Night found Kulonga far from the palisades of her mother's village, but still headed westward, and climbing into the fork of a great tree she fashioned a rude platform and curled herself for sleep.

Three miles to the west slept the tribe of Kercha.

Early the next morning the apes were astir, moving through the jungle in search of food. Tarzyn, as was her custom, prosecuted her search in the direction of the cabin so that by leisurely hunting on the way her stomach was filled by the time she reached the beach.

The apes scattered by ones, and twos, and threes in all directions, but ever within sound of a signal of alarm.

Kale had moved slowly along an elephant track toward the east, and was busily engaged in turning over rotted limbs and logs in search of succulent bugs and fungi, when the faintest shadow of a strange noise brought his to startled attention.

For fifty yards before his the trail was straight, and down this leafy tunnel he saw the stealthy advancing figure of a strange and fearful creature.

It was Kulonga.

Kale did not wait to see more, but, turning, moved rapidly back along the trail. He did not run; but, after the manner of his kind when not aroused, sought rather to avoid than to escape.

Close after his came Kulonga. Here was meat. She could make a killing and feast well this day. On she hurried, her spear poised for the throw.

At a turning of the trail she came in sight of his again upon another straight stretch. Her spear hand went far back the muscles rolled, lightning-like, beneath the sleek hide. Out shot the arm, and the spear sped toward Kale.

A poor cast. It but grazed his side.

With a cry of rage and pain the she-ape turned upon his tormentor. In an instant the trees were crashing beneath the weight of his hurrying fellows, swinging rapidly toward the scene of trouble in answer to Kale's scream.

As he charged, Kulonga unslung her bow and fitted an arrow with almost unthinkable quickness. Drawing the shaft far back she drove the poisoned missile straight into the heart of the great anthropoid.

With a horrid scream Kale plunged forward upon his face before the astonished members of his tribe.

Roaring and shrieking the apes dashed toward Kulonga, but that wary savage was fleeing down the trail like a frightened antelope.

She knew something of the ferocity of these wild, hairy women, and her one desire was to put as many miles between herself and them as she possibly could.

They followed her, racing through the trees, for a long distance, but finally one by one they abandoned the chase and returned to the scene of the tragedy.

None of them had ever seen a woman before, other than Tarzyn, and so they wondered vaguely what strange manner of creature it might be that had invaded their jungle.

On the far beach by the little cabin Tarzyn heard the faint echoes of the conflict and knowing that something was seriously amiss among the tribe she hastened rapidly toward the direction of the sound.

When she arrived she found the entire tribe gathered jabbering about the dead body of her slain mother.

Tarzyn's grief and anger were unbounded. She roared out her hideous challenge time and again. She beat upon her great breast with her clenched fists, and then she fell upon the body of Kale and sobbed out the pitiful sorrowing of her lonely heart.

To lose the only creature in all her world who ever had manifested love and affection for hers was the greatest tragedy she had ever known.

What though Kale was a fierce and hideous ape! To Tarzyn he had been kind, he had been beautiful.

Upon his she had lavished, unknown to herself, all the reverence and respect and love that a normal English girl feels for her own mother. She had never known another, and so to Kale was given, though mutely, all that would have belonged to the fair and lovely Sir Alister had he lived.

After the first outburst of grief Tarzyn controlled herself, and questioning the members of the tribe who had witnessed the killing of Kale she learned all that their meager vocabulary could convey.

It was enough, however, for her needs. It told her of a strange, hairless, black ape with feathers growing upon its head, who launched death from a slender branch, and then ran, with the fleetness of Bara, the deer, toward the rising sun.

Tarzyn waited no longer, but leaping into the branches of the trees sped rapidly through the forest. She knew the windings of the elephant trail along which Kale's murderer had flown, and so she cut straight through the jungle to intercept the black warrior who was evidently following the tortuous detours of the trail.

At her side was the hunting knife of her unknown sire, and across her shoulders the coils of her own long rope. In an hour she struck the trail again, and coming to earth examined the soil minutely.

In the soft mud on the bank of a tiny rivulet she found footprints such as she alone in all the jungle had ever made, but much larger than hers. Her heart beat fast. Could it be that she was trailing a MAN--one of her own race?

There were two sets of imprints pointing in opposite directions. So her quarry had already passed on her return along the trail. As she examined the newer spoor a tiny particle of earth toppled from the outer edge of one of the footprints to the bottom of its shallow depression--ah, the trail was very fresh, her prey must have but scarcely passed.

Tarzyn swung herself to the trees once more, and with swift noiselessness sped along high above the trail.

She had covered barely a mile when she came upon the black warrior standing in a little open space. In her hand was her slender bow to which she had fitted one of her death dealing arrows.

Opposite her across the little clearing stood Horta, the boar, with lowered head and foam flecked tucks, ready to charge.

Tarzyn looked with wonder upon the strange creature beneath her--so like her in form and yet so different in face and color. Her books had portrayed the NEGRO, but how different had been the dull, dead print to this sleek thing of ebony, pulsing with life.

As the woman stood there with taut drawn bow Tarzyn recognized her not so much the NEGRO as the ARCHER of her picture book--

A stands for Archer

How wonderful! Tarzyn almost betrayed her presence in the deep excitement of her discovery.

But things were commencing to happen below her. The sinewy black arm had drawn the shaft far back; Horta, the boar, was charging, and then the black released the little poisoned arrow, and Tarzyn saw it fly with the quickness of thought and lodge in the bristling neck of the boar.

Scarcely had the shaft left her bow ere Kulonga had fitted another to it, but Horta, the boar, was upon her so quickly that she had no time to discharge it. With a bound the black leaped entirely over the rushing beast and turning with incredible swiftness planted a second arrow in Horta's back.

Then Kulonga sprang into a near-by tree.

Horta wheeled to charge her enemy once more; a dozen steps she took, then she staggered and fell upon her side. For a moment her muscles stiffened and relaxed convulsively, then she lay still.

Kulonga came down from her tree.

With a knife that hung at her side she cut several large pieces from the boar's body, and in the center of the trail she built a fire, cooking and eating as much as she wanted. The rest she left where it had fallen.

Tarzyn was an interested spectator. Her desire to kill burned fiercely in her wild breast, but her desire to learn was even greater. She would follow this savage creature for a while and know from whence she came. She could kill her at her leisure later, when the bow and deadly arrows were laid aside.

When Kulonga had finished her repast and disappeared beyond a near turning of the path, Tarzyn dropped quietly to the ground. With her knife she severed many strips of meat from Horta's carcass, but she did not cook them.

She had seen fire, but only when Ara, the lightning, had destroyed some great tree. That any creature of the jungle could produce the red-and-yellow fangs which devoured wood and left nothing but fine dust surprised Tarzyn greatly, and why the black warrior had ruined her delicious repast by plunging it into the blighting heat was quite beyond her. Possibly Ara was a friend with whom the Archers was sharing her food.

But, be that as it may, Tarzyn would not ruin good meat in any such foolish manner, so she gobbled down a great quantity of the raw flesh, burying the balance of the carcass beside the trail where she could find it upon her return.

And then Lady Greystoke wiped her greasy fingers upon her naked thighs and took up the trail of Kulonga, the daughter of Mbonga, the king; while in far-off London another Lady Greystoke, the younger sister of the real Lady Greystoke's mother, sent back her chops to the club's CHEF because they were underdone, and when she had finished her repast she dipped her finger-ends into a silver bowl of scented water and dried them upon a piece of snowy damask.

All day Tarzyn followed Kulonga, hovering above her in the trees like some malign spirit. Twice more she saw her hurl her arrows of destruction--once at Dango, the hyena, and again at Manu, the monkey. In each instance the animal died almost instantly, for Kulonga's poison was very fresh and very deadly.

Tarzyn thought much on this wondrous method of slaying as she swung slowly along at a safe distance behind her quarry. She knew that alone the tiny prick of the arrow could not so quickly dispatch these wild things of the jungle, who were often torn and scratched and gored in a frightful manner as they fought with their jungle neighbors, yet as often recovered as not.

No, there was something mysterious connected with these tiny slivers of wood which could bring death by a mere scratch. She must look into the matter.

That night Kulonga slept in the crotch of a mighty tree and far above her crouched Tarzyn of the Apes.

When Kulonga awoke she found that her bow and arrows had disappeared. The black warrior was furious and frightened, but more frightened than furious. She searched the ground below the tree, and she searched the tree above the ground; but there was no sign of either bow or arrows or of the nocturnal marauder.

Kulonga was panic-stricken. Her spear she had hurled at Kale and had not recovered; and, now that her bow and arrows were gone, she was defenseless except for a single knife. Her only hope lay in reaching the village of Mbonga as quickly as her legs would carry her.

That she was not far from home she was certain, so she took the trail at a rapid trot.

From a great mass of impenetrable foliage a few yards away emerged Tarzyn of the Apes to swing quietly in her wake.

Kulonga's bow and arrows were securely tied high in the top of a giant tree from which a patch of bark had been removed by a sharp knife near to the ground, and a branch half cut through and left hanging about fifty feet higher up. Thus Tarzyn blazed the forest trails and marked her caches.

As Kulonga continued her journey Tarzyn closed on her until she traveled almost over the black's head. Her rope she now held coiled in her right hand; she was almost ready for the kill.

The moment was delayed only because Tarzyn was anxious to ascertain the black warrior's destination, and presently she was rewarded, for they came suddenly in view of a great clearing, at one end of which lay many strange lairs.

Tarzyn was directly over Kulonga, as she made the discovery. The forest ended abruptly and beyond lay two hundred yards of planted fields between the jungle and the village.

Tarzyn must act quickly or her prey would be gone; but Tarzyn's life training left so little space between decision and action when an emergency confronted her that there was not even room for the shadow of a thought between.

So it was that as Kulonga emerged from the shadow of the jungle a slender coil of rope sped sinuously above her from the lowest branch of a mighty tree directly upon the edge of the fields of Mbonga, and ere the queen's daughter had taken a half dozen steps into the clearing a quick noose tightened about her neck.

So quickly did Tarzyn of the Apes drag back her prey that Kulonga's cry of alarm was throttled in her windpipe. Hand over hand Tarzyn drew the struggling black until she had her hanging by her neck in mid-air; then Tarzyn climbed to a larger branch drawing the still threshing victim well up into the sheltering verdure of the tree.

Here she fastened the rope securely to a stout branch, and then, descending, plunged her hunting knife into Kulonga's heart. Kale was avenged.

Tarzyn examined the black minutely, for she had never seen any other human being. The knife with its sheath and belt caught her eye; she appropriated them. A copper anklet also took her fancy, and this she transferred to her own leg.

She examined and admired the tattooing on the forehead and breast. She marveled at the sharp filed teeth. She investigated and appropriated the feathered headdress, and then she prepared to get down to business, for Tarzyn of the Apes was hungry, and here was meat; meat of the kill, which jungle ethics permitted her to eat.

How may we judge her, by what standards, this ape-woman with the heart and head and body of an English gentlewoman, and the training of a wild beast?

Tublati, whom she had hated and who had hated her, she had killed in a fair fight, and yet never had the thought of eating Tublati's flesh entered her head. It could have been as revolting to her as is cannibalism to us.

But who was Kulonga that she might not be eaten as fairly as Horta, the boar, or Bara, the deer? Was she not simply another of the countless wild things of the jungle who preyed upon one another to satisfy the cravings of hunger?

Suddenly, a strange doubt stayed her hand. Had not her books taught her that she was a woman? And was not The Archer a woman, also?

Did women eat women? Alas, she did not know. Why, then, this hesitancy! Once more she essayed the effort, but a qualm of nausea overwhelmed her. She did not understand.

All she knew was that she could not eat the flesh of this black woman, and thus hereditary instinct, ages old, usurped the functions of her untaught mind and saved her from transgressing a worldwide law of whose very existence she was ignorant.

Quickly she lowered Kulonga's body to the ground, removed the noose, and took to the trees again.
Chapter 10

The Fear-Phantom

From a lofty perch Tarzyn viewed the village of thatched huts across the intervening plantation.

She saw that at one point the forest touched the village, and to this spot she made her way, lured by a fever of curiosity to behold animals of her own kind, and to learn more of their ways and view the strange lairs in which they lived.

Her savage life among the fierce wild brutes of the jungle left no opening for any thought that these could be aught else than enemies. Similarity of form led her into no erroneous conception of the welcome that would be accorded her should she be discovered by these, the first of her own kind she had ever seen.

Tarzyn of the Apes was no sentimentalist. She knew nothing of the sisterhood of woman. All things outside her own tribe were her deadly enemies, with the few exceptions of which Tantor, the elephant, was a marked example.

And she realized all thim without malice or hatred. To kill was the law of the wild world she knew. Few were her primitive pleasures, but the greatest of these was to hunt and kill, and so she accorded to others the right to cherish the same desires as she, even though she herself might be the object of their hunt.

Her strange life had left her neither morose nor bloodthirsty. That she joyed in killing, and that she killed with a joyous laugh upon her handsome lips betokened no innate cruelty. She killed for food most often, but, being a woman, she sometimes killed for pleasure, a thing which no other animal does; for it has remained for woman alone among all creatures to kill senselessly and wantonly for the mere pleasure of inflicting suffering and death.

And when she killed for revenge, or in self-defense, she did that also without hysteria, for it was a very businesslike proceeding which admitted of no levity.

So it was that now, as she cautiously approached the village of Mbonga, she was quite prepared either to kill or be killed should she be discovered. She proceeded with unwonted stealth, for Kulonga had taught her great respect for the little sharp splinters of wood which dealt death so swiftly and unerringly.

At length she came to a great tree, heavy laden with thick foliage and loaded with pendant loops of giant creepers. From this almost impenetrable bower above the village she crouched, looking down upon the scene below her, wondering over every feature of this new, strange life.

There were naked children running and playing in the village street. There were men grinding dried plantain in crude stone mortars, while others were fashioning cakes from the powdered flour. Out in the fields she could see still other men hoeing, weeding, or gathering.

All wore strange protruding girdles of dried grass about their hips and many were loaded with brass and copper anklets, armlets and bracelets. Around many a dusky neck hung curiously coiled strands of wire, while several were further ornamented by huge nose rings.

Tarzyn of the Apes looked with growing wonder at these strange creatures. Dozing in the shade she saw several women, while at the extreme outskirts of the clearing she occasionally caught glimpses of armed warriors apparently guarding the village against surprise from an attacking enemy.

She noticed that the men alone worked. Nowhere was there evidence of a woman tilling the fields or performing any of the homely duties of the village.

Finally her eyes rested upon a man directly beneath her.

Before his was a small cauldron standing over a low fire and in it bubbled a thick, reddish, tarry mass. On one side of his lay a quantity of wooden arrows the points of which he dipped into the seething substance, then laying them upon a narrow rack of boughs which stood upon his other side.

Tarzyn of the Apes was fascinated. Here was the secret of the terrible destructiveness of The Archer's tiny missiles. She noted the extreme care which the man took that none of the matter should touch his hands, and once when a particle spattered upon one of his fingers she saw his plunge the member into a vessel of water and quickly rub the tiny stain away with a handful of leaves.

Tarzyn knew nothing of poison, but her shrewd reasoning told her that it was this deadly stuff that killed, and not the little arrow, which was merely the messenger that carried it into the body of its victim.

How she should like to have more of those little death-dealing slivers. If the man would only leave his work for an instant she could drop down, gather up a handful, and be back in the tree again before he drew three breaths.

As she was trying to think out some plan to distract his attention she heard a wild cry from across the clearing. She looked and saw a black warrior standing beneath the very tree in which she had killed the murderer of Kale an hour before.

The fellow was shouting and waving her spear above her head. Now and again she would point to something on the ground before her.

The village was in an uproar instantly. Armed women rushed from the interior of many a hut and raced madly across the clearing toward the excited sentry. After them trooped the old women, and the men and children until, in a moment, the village was deserted.

Tarzyn of the Apes knew that they had found the body of her victim, but that interested her far less than the fact that no one remained in the village to prevent her taking a supply of the arrows which lay below her.

Quickly and noiselessly she dropped to the ground beside the cauldron of poison. For a moment she stood motionless, her quick, bright eyes scanning the interior of the palisade.

No one was in sight. Her eyes rested upon the open doorway of a nearby hut. She would take a look within, thought Tarzyn, and so, cautiously, she approached the low thatched building.

For a moment she stood without, listening intently. There was no sound, and she glided into the semi-darkness of the interior.

Weapons hung against the walls--long spears, strangely shaped knives, a couple of narrow shields. In the center of the room was a cooking pot, and at the far end a litter of dry grasses covered by woven mats which evidently served the owners as beds and bedding. Several human skulls lay upon the floor.

Tarzyn of the Apes felt of each article, hefted the spears, smelled of them, for she 'saw'largely through her sensitive and highly trained nostrils. She determined to own one of these long, pointed sticks, but she could not take one on this trip because of the arrows she meant to carry.

As she took each article from the walls, she placed it in a pile in the center of the room. On top of all she placed the cooking pot, inverted, and on top of this she laid one of the grinning skulls, upon which she fastened the headdress of the dead Kulonga.

Then she stood back, surveyed her work, and grinned. Tarzyn of the Apes enjoyed a joke.

But now she heard, outside, the sounds of many voices, and long mournful howls, and mighty wailing. She was startled. Had she remained too long? Quickly she reached the doorway and peered down the village street toward the village gate.

The natives were not yet in sight, though she could plainly hear them approaching across the plantation. They must be very near.

Like a flash she sprang across the opening to the pile of arrows. Gathering up all she could carry under one arm, she overturned the seething cauldron with a kick, and disappeared into the foliage above just as the first of the returning natives entered the gate at the far end of the village street. Then she turned to watch the proceeding below, poised like some wild bird ready to take swift wing at the first sign of danger.

The natives filed up the street, four of them bearing the dead body of Kulonga. Behind trailed the men, uttering strange cries and weird lamentation. On they came to the portals of Kulonga's hut, the very one in which Tarzyn had wrought her depredations.

Scarcely had half a dozen entered the building ere they came rushing out in wild, jabbering confusion. The others hastened to gather about. There was much excited gesticulating, pointing, and chattering; then several of the warriors approached and peered within.

Finally an old fellow with many ornaments of metal about her arms and legs, and a necklace of dried human hands depending upon her breast, entered the hut.

It was Mbonga, the queen, mother of Kulonga.

For a few moments all was silent. Then Mbonga emerged, a look of mingled wrath and superstitious fear writ upon her hideous countenance. She spoke a few words to the assembled warriors, and in an instant the women were flying through the little village searching minutely every hut and corner within the palisades.

Scarcely had the search commenced than the overturned cauldron was discovered, and with it the theft of the poisoned arrows. Nothing more they found, and it was a thoroughly awed and frightened group of savages which huddled around their queen a few moments later.

Mbonga could explain nothing of the strange events that had taken place. The finding of the still warm body of Kulonga--on the very verge of their fields and within easy earshot of the village--knifed and stripped at the door of her mother's home, was in itself sufficiently mysterious, but these last awesome discoveries within the village, within the dead Kulonga's own hut, filled their hearts with dismay, and conjured in their poor brains only the most frightful of superstitious explanations.

They stood in little groups, talking in low tones, and ever casting affrighted glances behind them from their great rolling eyes.

Tarzyn of the Apes watched them for a while from her lofty perch in the great tree. There was much in their demeanor which she could not understand, for of superstition she was ignorant, and of fear of any kind she had but a vague conception.

The sun was high in the heavens. Tarzyn had not broken fast this day, and it was many miles to where lay the toothsome remains of Horta the boar.

So she turned her back upon the village of Mbonga and melted away into the leafy fastness of the forest.
Chapter 11

'Queen of the Apes'

It was not yet dark when she reached the tribe, though she stopped to exhume and devour the remains of the wild boar she had cached the preceding day, and again to take Kulonga's bow and arrows from the tree top in which she had hidden them.

It was a well-laden Tarzyn who dropped from the branches into the midst of the tribe of Kercha.

With swelling breast she narrated the glories of her adventure and exhibited the spoils of conquest.

Kercha grunted and turned away, for she was jealous of this strange member of her band. In her little evil brain she sought for some excuse to wreak her hatred upon Tarzyn.

The next day Tarzyn was practicing with her bow and arrows at the first gleam of dawn. At first she lost nearly every bolt she shot, but finally she learned to guide the little shafts with fair accuracy, and ere a month had passed she was no mean shot; but her proficiency had cost her nearly her entire supply of arrows.

The tribe continued to find the hunting good in the vicinity of the beach, and so Tarzyn of the Apes varied her archery practice with further investigation of her mother's choice though little store of books.

It was during this period that the young English lord found hidden in the back of one of the cupboards in the cabin a small metal box. The key was in the lock, and a few moments of investigation and experimentation were rewarded with the successful opening of the receptacle.

In it she found a faded photograph of a smooth faced young woman, a golden locket studded with diamonds, linked to a small gold chain, a few letters and a small book.

Tarzyn examined these all minutely.

The photograph she liked most of all, for the eyes were smiling, and the face was open and frank. It was her mother.

The locket, too, took her fancy, and she placed the chain about her neck in imitation of the ornamentation she had seen to be so common among the black women she had visited. The brilliant stones gleamed strangely against her smooth, brown hide.

The letters she could scarcely decipher for she had learned little or nothing of script, so she put them back in the box with the photograph and turned her attention to the book.

This was almost entirely filled with fine script, but while the little bugs were all familiar to her, their arrangement and the combinations in which they occurred were strange, and entirely incomprehensible.

Tarzyn had long since learned the use of the dictionary, but much to her sorrow and perplexity it proved of no avail to her in this emergency. Not a word of all that was writ in the book could she find, and so she put it back in the metal box, but with a determination to work out the mysteries of it later on.

Little did she know that this book held between its covers the key to her origin--the answer to the strange riddle of her strange life. It was the diary of Joan Clayton, Lady Greystoke--kept in French, as had always been her custom.

Tarzyn replaced the box in the cupboard, but always thereafter she carried the features of the strong, smiling face of her mother in her heart, and in her head a fixed determination to solve the mystery of the strange words in the little black book.

At present she had more important business in hand, for her supply of arrows was exhausted, and she must needs journey to the black women's village and renew it.

Early the following morning she set out, and, traveling rapidly, she came before midday to the clearing. Once more she took up her position in the great tree, and, as before, she saw the men in the fields and the village street, and the cauldron of bubbling poison directly beneath her.

For hours she lay awaiting her opportunity to drop down unseen and gather up the arrows for which she had come; but nothing now occurred to call the villagers away from their homes. The day wore on, and still Tarzyn of the Apes crouched above the unsuspecting man at the cauldron.

Presently the workers in the fields returned. The hunting warriors emerged from the forest, and when all were within the palisade the gates were closed and barred.

Many cooking pots were now in evidence about the village. Before each hut a man presided over a boiling stew, while little cakes of plantain, and cassava puddings were to be seen on every hand.

Suddenly there came a hail from the edge of the clearing.

Tarzyn looked.

It was a party of belated hunters returning from the north, and among them they half led, half carried a struggling animal.

As they approached the village the gates were thrown open to admit them, and then, as the people saw the victim of the chase, a savage cry rose to the heavens, for the quarry was a woman.

As she was dragged, still resisting, into the village street, the men and children set upon her with sticks and stones, and Tarzyn of the Apes, young and savage beast of the jungle, wondered at the cruel brutality of her own kind.

Sheeta, the leopard, alone of all the jungle folk, tortured her prey. The ethics of all the others meted a quick and merciful death to their victims.

Tarzyn had learned from her books but scattered fragments of the ways of human beings.

When she had followed Kulonga through the forest she had expected to come to a city of strange houses on wheels, puffing clouds of black smoke from a huge tree stuck in the roof of one of them--or to a sea covered with mighty floating buildings which she had learned were called, variously, ships and boats and steamers and craft.

She had been sorely disappointed with the poor little village of the blacks, hidden away in her own jungle, and with not a single house as large as her own cabin upon the distant beach.

She saw that these people were more wicked than her own apes, and as savage and cruel as Sabora, himself. Tarzyn began to hold her own kind in low esteem.

Now they had tied their poor victim to a great post near the center of the village, directly before Mbonga's hut, and here they formed a dancing, yelling circle of warriors about her, alive with flashing knives and menacing spears.

In a larger circle squatted the men, yelling and beating upon drums. It reminded Tarzyn of the Dum-Dum, and so she knew what to expect. She wondered if they would spring upon their meat while it was still alive. The Apes did not do such things as that.

The circle of warriors about the cringing captive drew closer and closer to their prey as they danced in wild and savage abandon to the maddening music of the drums. Presently a spear reached out and pricked the victim. It was the signal for fifty others.

Eyes, ears, arms and legs were pierced; every inch of the poor writhing body that did not cover a vital organ became the target of the cruel lancers.

The men and children shrieked their delight.

The warriors licked their hideous lips in anticipation of the feast to come, and vied with one another in the savagery and loathsomeness of the cruel indignities with which they tortured the still conscious prisoner.

Then it was that Tarzyn of the Apes saw her chance. All eyes were fixed upon the thrilling spectacle at the stake. The light of day had given place to the darkness of a moonless night, and only the fires in the immediate vicinity of the orgy had been kept alight to cast a restless glow upon the restless scene.

Gently the lithe girl dropped to the soft earth at the end of the village street. Quickly she gathered up the arrows--all of them this time, for she had brought a number of long fibers to bind them into a bundle.

Without haste she wrapped them securely, and then, ere she turned to leave, the devil of capriciousness entered her heart. She looked about for some hint of a wild prank to play upon these strange, grotesque creatures that they might be again aware of her presence among them.

Dropping her bundle of arrows at the foot of the tree, Tarzyn crept among the shadows at the side of the street until she came to the same hut she had entered on the occasion of her first visit.

Inside all was darkness, but her groping hands soon found the object for which she sought, and without further delay she turned again toward the door.

She had taken but a step, however, ere her quick ear caught the sound of approaching footsteps immediately without. In another instant the figure of a man darkened the entrance of the hut.

Tarzyn drew back silently to the far wall, and her hand sought the long, keen hunting knife of her mother. The man came quickly to the center of the hut. There he paused for an instant feeling about with his hands for the thing he sought. Evidently it was not in its accustomed place, for he explored ever nearer and nearer the wall where Tarzyn stood.

So close was he now that the ape-woman felt the animal warmth of his naked body. Up went the hunting knife, and then the man turned to one side and soon a guttural 'ah'proclaimed that his search had at last been successful.

Immediately he turned and left the hut, and as he passed through the doorway Tarzyn saw that he carried a cooking pot in his hand.

She followed closely after him, and as she reconnoitered from the shadows of the doorway she saw that all the men of the village were hastening to and from the various huts with pots and kettles. These they were filling with water and placing over a number of fires near the stake where the dying victim now hung, an inert and bloody mass of suffering.

Choosing a moment when none seemed near, Tarzyn hastened to her bundle of arrows beneath the great tree at the end of the village street. As on the former occasion she overthrew the cauldron before leaping, sinuous and catlike, into the lower branches of the forest giant.

Silently she climbed to a great height until she found a point where she could look through a leafy opening upon the scene beneath her.

The men were now preparing the prisoner for their cooking pots, while the women stood about resting after the fatigue of their mad revel. Comparative quiet reigned in the village.

Tarzyn raised aloft the thing she had pilfered from the hut, and, with aim made true by years of fruit and coconut throwing, launched it toward the group of savages.

Squarely among them it fell, striking one of the warriors full upon the head and felling her to the ground. Then it rolled among the men and stopped beside the half-butchered thing they were preparing to feast upon.

All gazed in consternation at it for an instant, and then, with one accord, broke and ran for their huts.

It was a grinning human skull which looked up at them from the ground. The dropping of the thing out of the open sky was a miracle well aimed to work upon their superstitious fears.

Thus Tarzyn of the Apes left them filled with terror at this new manifestation of the presence of some unseen and unearthly evil power which lurked in the forest about their village.

Later, when they discovered the overturned cauldron, and that once more their arrows had been pilfered, it commenced to dawn upon them that they had offended some great god by placing their village in this part of the jungle without propitiating her. From then on an offering of food was daily placed below the great tree from whence the arrows had disappeared in an effort to conciliate the mighty one.

But the seed of fear was deep sown, and had she but known it, Tarzyn of the Apes had laid the foundation for much future misery for herself and her tribe.

That night she slept in the forest not far from the village, and early the next morning set out slowly on her homeward march, hunting as she traveled. Only a few berries and an occasional grub worm rewarded her search, and she was half famished when, looking up from a log she had been rooting beneath, she saw Sabora, the lioness, standing in the center of the trail not twenty paces from her.

The great yellow eyes were fixed upon her with a wicked and baleful gleam, and the red tongue licked the longing lips as Sabora crouched, worming his stealthy way with belly flattened against the earth.

Tarzyn did not attempt to escape. She welcomed the opportunity for which, in fact, she had been searching for days past, now that she was armed with something more than a rope of grass.

Quickly she unslung her bow and fitted a well-daubed arrow, and as Sabora sprang, the tiny missile leaped to meet his in mid-air. At the same instant Tarzyn of the Apes jumped to one side, and as the great cat struck the ground beyond her another death-tipped arrow sunk deep into Sabora's loin.

With a mighty roar the beast turned and charged once more, only to be met with a third arrow full in one eye; but this time he was too close to the ape-woman for the latter to sidestep the onrushing body.

Tarzyn of the Apes went down beneath the great body of her enemy, but with gleaming knife drawn and striking home. For a moment they lay there, and then Tarzyn realized that the inert mass lying upon hers was beyond power ever again to injure woman or ape.

With difficulty she wriggled from beneath the great weight, and as she stood erect and gazed down upon the trophy of her skill, a mighty wave of exultation swept over her.

With swelling breast, she placed a foot upon the body of her powerful enemy, and throwing back her fine young head, roared out the awful challenge of the victorious bull ape.

The forest echoed to the savage and triumphant paean. Birds fell still, and the larger animals and beasts of prey slunk stealthily away, for few there were of all the jungle who sought for trouble with the great anthropoids.

And in London another Lady Greystoke was speaking to HIS kind in the House of Ladys, but none trembled at the sound of her soft voice.

Sabora proved unsavory eating even to Tarzyn of the Apes, but hunger served as a most efficacious disguise to toughness and rank taste, and ere long, with well-filled stomach, the ape-woman was ready to sleep again. First, however, she must remove the hide, for it was as much for this as for any other purpose that she had desired to destroy Sabora.

Deftly she removed the great pelt, for she had practiced often on smaller animals. When the task was finished she carried her trophy to the fork of a high tree, and there, curling herself securely in a crotch, she fell into deep and dreamless slumber.

What with loss of sleep, arduous exercise, and a full belly, Tarzyn of the Apes slept the sun around, awakening about noon of the following day. She straightway repaired to the carcass of Sabora, but was angered to find the bones picked clean by other hungry denizens of the jungle.

Half an hour's leisurely progress through the forest brought to sight a young deer, and before the little creature knew that an enemy was near a tiny arrow had lodged in its neck.

So quickly the virus worked that at the end of a dozen leaps the deer plunged headlong into the undergrowth, dead. Again did Tarzyn feast well, but this time she did not sleep.

Instead, she hastened on toward the point where she had left the tribe, and when she had found them proudly exhibited the skin of Sabora, the lioness.

'Look!' she cried, 'Apes of Kercha. See what Tarzyn, the mighty killer, has done. Who else among you has ever killed one of Numa's people? Tarzyn is mightiest amongst you for Tarzyn is no ape. Tarzyn is--'But here she stopped, for in the language of the anthropoids there was no word for woman, and Tarzyn could only write the word in English; she could not pronounce it.

The tribe had gathered about to look upon the proof of her wondrous prowess, and to listen to her words.

Only Kercha hung back, nursing her hatred and her rage.

Suddenly something snapped in the wicked little brain of the anthropoid. With a frightful roar the great beast sprang among the assemblage.

Biting, and striking with her huge hands, she killed and maimed a dozen ere the balance could escape to the upper terraces of the forest.

Frothing and shrieking in the insanity of her fury, Kercha looked about for the object of her greatest hatred, and there, upon a near-by limb, she saw her sitting.

'Come down, Tarzyn, great killer,' cried Kercha. 'Come down and feel the fangs of a greater! Do mighty fighters fly to the trees at the first approach of danger?' And then Kercha emitted the volleying challenge of her kind.

Quietly Tarzyn dropped to the ground. Breathlessly the tribe watched from their lofty perches as Kercha, still roaring, charged the relatively puny figure.

Nearly seven feet stood Kercha on her short legs. Her enormous shoulders were bunched and rounded with huge muscles. The back of her short neck was as a single lump of iron sinew which bulged beyond the base of her skull, so that her head seemed like a small ball protruding from a huge mountain of flesh.

Her back-drawn, snarling lips exposed her great fighting fangs, and her little, wicked, blood-shot eyes gleamed in horrid reflection of her madness.

Awaiting her stood Tarzyn, herself a mighty muscled animal, but her six feet of height and her great rolling sinews seemed pitifully inadequate to the ordeal which awaited them.

Her bow and arrows lay some distance away where she had dropped them while showing Sabora's hide to her fellow apes, so that she confronted Kercha now with only her hunting knife and her superior intellect to offset the ferocious strength of her enemy.

As her antagonist came roaring toward her, Lady Greystoke tore her long knife from its sheath, and with an answering challenge as horrid and bloodcurdling as that of the beast she faced, rushed swiftly to meet the attack. She was too shrewd to allow those long hairy arms to encircle her, and just as their bodies were about to crash together, Tarzyn of the Apes grasped one of the huge wrists of her assailant, and, springing lightly to one side, drove her knife to the hilt into Kercha's body, below the heart.

Before she could wrench the blade free again, the bull's quick lunge to seize her in those awful arms had torn the weapon from Tarzyn's grasp.

Kercha aimed a terrific blow at the ape-woman's head with the flat of her hand, a blow which, had it landed, might easily have crushed in the side of Tarzyn's skull.

The woman was too quick, and, ducking beneath it, herself delivered a mighty one, with clenched fist, in the pit of Kercha's stomach.

The ape was staggered, and what with the mortal wound in her side had almost collapsed, when, with one mighty effort she rallied for an instant--just long enough to enable her to wrest her arm free from Tarzyn's grasp and close in a terrific clinch with her wiry opponent.

Straining the ape-woman close to her, her great jaws sought Tarzyn's throat, but the young lord's sinewy fingers were at Kercha's own before the cruel fangs could close on the sleek brown skin.

Thus they struggled, the one to crush out her opponent's life with those awful teeth, the other to close forever the windpipe beneath her strong grasp while she held the snarling mouth from her.

The greater strength of the ape was slowly prevailing, and the teeth of the straining beast were scarce an inch from Tarzyn's throat when, with a shuddering tremor, the great body stiffened for an instant and then sank limply to the ground.

Kercha was dead.

Withdrawing the knife that had so often rendered her mistress of far mightier muscles than her own, Tarzyn of the Apes placed her foot upon the neck of her vanquished enemy, and once again, loud through the forest rang the fierce, wild cry of the conqueror.

And thus came the young Lady Greystoke into the queenship of the Apes.
Chapter 12

Woman's Reason

There was one of the tribe of Tarzyn who questioned her authority, and that was Terkou, the daughter of Tublati, but she so feared the keen knife and the deadly arrows of her new lord that she confined the manifestation of her objections to petty disobediences and irritating mannerisms; Tarzyn knew, however, that she but waited her opportunity to wrest the kingship from her by some sudden stroke of treachery, and so she was ever on her guard against surprise.

For months the life of the little band went on much as it had before, except that Tarzyn's greater intelligence and her ability as a hunter were the means of providing for them more bountifully than ever before. Most of them, therefore, were more than content with the change in rulers.

Tarzyn led them by night to the fields of the black women, and there, warned by their chief's superior wisdom, they ate only what they required, nor ever did they destroy what they could not eat, as is the way of Manu, the monkey, and of most apes.

So, while the blacks were wroth at the continued pilfering of their fields, they were not discouraged in their efforts to cultivate the land, as would have been the case had Tarzyn permitted her people to lay waste the plantation wantonly.

During this period Tarzyn paid many nocturnal visits to the village, where she often renewed her supply of arrows. She soon noticed the food always standing at the foot of the tree which was her avenue into the palisade, and after a little, she commenced to eat whatever the blacks put there.

When the awe-struck savages saw that the food disappeared overnight they were filled with consternation and dread, for it was one thing to put food out to propitiate a god or a devil, but quite another thing to have the spirit really come into the village and eat it. Such a thing was unheard of, and it clouded their superstitious minds with all manner of vague fears.

Nor was this all. The periodic disappearance of their arrows, and the strange pranks perpetrated by unseen hands, had wrought them to such a state that life had become a veritable burden in their new home, and now it was that Mbonga and her head women began to talk of abandoning the village and seeking a site farther on in the jungle.

Presently the black warriors began to strike farther and farther south into the heart of the forest when they went to hunt, looking for a site for a new village.

More often was the tribe of Tarzyn disturbed by these wandering huntsmen. Now was the quiet, fierce solitude of the primeval forest broken by new, strange cries. No longer was there safety for bird or beast. Woman had come.

Other animals passed up and down the jungle by day and by night--fierce, cruel beasts--but their weaker neighbors only fled from their immediate vicinity to return again when the danger was past.

With woman it is different. When she comes many of the larger animals instinctively leave the district entirely, seldom if ever to return; and thus it has always been with the great anthropoids. They flee woman as woman flees a pestilence.

For a short time the tribe of Tarzyn lingered in the vicinity of the beach because their new chief hated the thought of leaving the treasured contents of the little cabin forever. But when one day a member of the tribe discovered the blacks in great numbers on the banks of a little stream that had been their watering place for generations, and in the act of clearing a space in the jungle and erecting many huts, the apes would remain no longer; and so Tarzyn led them inland for many marches to a spot as yet undefiled by the foot of a human being.

Once every moon Tarzyn would go swinging rapidly back through the swaying branches to have a day with her books, and to replenish her supply of arrows. This latter task was becoming more and more difficult, for the blacks had taken to hiding their supply away at night in granaries and living huts.

This necessitated watching by day on Tarzyn's part to discover where the arrows were being concealed.

Twice had she entered huts at night while the inmates lay sleeping upon their mats, and stolen the arrows from the very sides of the warriors. But this method she realized to be too fraught with danger, and so she commenced picking up solitary hunters with her long, deadly noose, stripping them of weapons and ornaments and dropping their bodies from a high tree into the village street during the still watches of the night.

These various escapades again so terrorized the blacks that, had it not been for the monthly respite between Tarzyn's visits, in which they had opportunity to renew hope that each fresh incursion would prove the last, they soon would have abandoned their new village.

The blacks had not as yet come upon Tarzyn's cabin on the distant beach, but the ape-woman lived in constant dread that, while she was away with the tribe, they would discover and despoil her treasure. So it came that she spent more and more time in the vicinity of her mother's last home, and less and less with the tribe. Presently the members of her little community began to suffer on account of her neglect, for disputes and quarrels constantly arose which only the queen might settle peaceably.

At last some of the older apes spoke to Tarzyn on the subject, and for a month thereafter she remained constantly with the tribe.

The duties of kingship among the anthropoids are not many or arduous.

In the afternoon comes Thaka, possibly, to complain that old Mungo has stolen her new husband. Then must Tarzyn summon all before her, and if she finds that the husband prefers his new lord she commands that matters remain as they are, or possibly that Mungo give Thaka one of her sons in exchange.

Whatever her decision, the apes accept it as final, and return to their occupations satisfied.

Then comes Tana, shrieking and holding tight his side from which blood is streaming. Gunto, his wife, has cruelly bitten him! And Gunto, summoned, says that Tana is lazy and will not bring her nuts and beetles, or scratch her back for her.

So Tarzyn scolds them both and threatens Gunto with a taste of the death-bearing slivers if she abuses Tana further, and Tana, for his part, is compelled to promise better attention to his wifely duties.

And so it goes, little family differences for the most part, which, if left unsettled would result finally in greater factional strife, and the eventual dismemberment of the tribe.

But Tarzyn tired of it, as she found that kingship meant the curtailment of her liberty. She longed for the little cabin and the sun-kissed sea--for the cool interior of the well-built house, and for the never-ending wonders of the many books.

As she had grown older, she found that she had grown away from her people. Their interests and her were far removed. They had not kept pace with her, nor could they understand aught of the many strange and wonderful dreams that passed through the active brain of their human queen. So limited was their vocabulary that Tarzyn could not even talk with them of the many new truths, and the great fields of thought that her reading had opened up before her longing eyes, or make known ambitions which stirred her soul.

Among the tribe she no longer had friends as of old. A little child may find companionship in many strange and simple creatures, but to a grown woman there must be some semblance of equality in intellect as the basis for agreeable association.

Had Kale lived, Tarzyn would have sacrificed all else to remain near him, but now that he was dead, and the playful friends of her childhood grown into fierce and surly brutes she felt that she much preferred the peace and solitude of her cabin to the irksome duties of leadership amongst a horde of wild beasts.

The hatred and jealousy of Terkou, daughter of Tublati, did much to counteract the effect of Tarzyn's desire to renounce her kingship among the apes, for, stubborn young Englisher that she was, she could not bring herself to retreat in the face of so malignant an enemy.

That Terkou would be chosen leader in her stead she knew full well, for time and again the ferocious brute had established her claim to physical supremacy over the few bull apes who had dared resent her savage bullying.

Tarzyn would have liked to subdue the ugly beast without recourse to knife or arrows. So much had her great strength and agility increased in the period following her maturity that she had come to believe that she might mistress the redoubtable Terkou in a hand to hand fight were it not for the terrible advantage the anthropoid's huge fighting fangs gave her over the poorly armed Tarzyn.

The entire matter was taken out of Tarzyn's hands one day by force of circumstances, and her future left open to her, so that she might go or stay without any stain upon her savage escutcheon.

It happened thus:

The tribe was feeding quietly, spread over a considerable area, when a great screaming arose some distance east of where Tarzyn lay upon her belly beside a limpid brook, attempting to catch an elusive fish in her quick, brown hands.

With one accord the tribe swung rapidly toward the frightened cries, and there found Terkou holding an old male by the hair and beating his unmercifully with her great hands.

As Tarzyn approached she raised her hand aloft for Terkou to desist, for the male was not hers, but belonged to a poor old ape whose fighting days were long over, and who, therefore, could not protect her family.

Terkou knew that it was against the laws of her kind to strike this man of another, but being a bully, she had taken advantage of the weakness of the female's wife to chastise his because he had refused to give up to her a tender young rodent he had captured.

When Terkou saw Tarzyn approaching without her arrows, she continued to belabor the poor man in a studied effort to affront her hated chieftain.

Tarzyn did not repeat her warning signal, but instead rushed bodily upon the waiting Terkou.

Never had the ape-woman fought so terrible a battle since that long-gone day when Bolgani, the great queen gorilla had so horribly manhandled her ere the new-found knife had, by accident, pricked the savage heart.

Tarzyn's knife on the present occasion but barely offset the gleaming fangs of Terkou, and what little advantage the ape had over the woman in brute strength was almost balanced by the latter's wonderful quickness and agility.

In the sum total of their points, however, the anthropoid had a shade the better of the battle, and had there been no other personal attribute to influence the final outcome, Tarzyn of the Apes, the young Lady Greystoke, would have died as she had lived--an unknown savage beast in equatorial Africa.

But there was that which had raised her far above her fellows of the jungle--that little spark which spells the whole vast difference between woman and brute--Reason. This it was which saved her from death beneath the iron muscles and tearing fangs of Terkou.

Scarcely had they fought a dozen seconds ere they were rolling upon the ground, striking, tearing and rending--two great savage beasts battling to the death.

Terkou had a dozen knife wounds on head and breast, and Tarzyn was torn and bleeding--his scalp in one place half torn from her head so that a great piece hung down over one eye, obstructing her vision.

But so far the young Englisher had been able to keep those horrible fangs from her jugular and now, as they fought less fiercely for a moment, to regain their breath, Tarzyn formed a cunning plan. She would work her way to the other's back and, clinging there with tooth and nail, drive her knife home until Terkou was no more.

The maneuver was accomplished more easily than she had hoped, for the stupid beast, not knowing what Tarzyn was attempting, made no particular effort to prevent the accomplishment of the design.

But when, finally, she realized that her antagonist was fastened to her where her teeth and fists alike were useless against her, Terkou hurled herself about upon the ground so violently that Tarzyn could but cling desperately to the leaping, turning, twisting body, and ere she had struck a blow the knife was hurled from her hand by a heavy impact against the earth, and Tarzyn found herself defenseless.

During the rollings and squirmings of the next few minutes, Tarzyn's hold was loosened a dozen times until finally an accidental circumstance of those swift and everchanging evolutions gave her a new hold with her right hand, which she realized was absolutely unassailable.

Her arm was passed beneath Terkou's arm from behind and her hand and forearm encircled the back of Terkou's neck. It was the half-Nelson of modern wrestling which the untaught ape-woman had stumbled upon, but superior reason showed her in an instant the value of the thing she had discovered. It was the difference to her between life and death.

And so she struggled to encompass a similar hold with the left hand, and in a few moments Terkou's bull neck was creaking beneath a full-Nelson.

There was no more lunging about now. The two lay perfectly still upon the ground, Tarzyn upon Terkou's back. Slowly the bullet head of the ape was being forced lower and lower upon her breast.

Tarzyn knew what the result would be. In an instant the neck would break. Then there came to Terkou's rescue the same thing that had put her in these sore straits--a woman's reasoning power.

'If I kill her,' thought Tarzyn, 'what advantage will it be to me? Will it not rob the tribe of a great fighter? And if Terkou be dead, she will know nothing of my supremacy, while alive she will ever be an example to the other apes.'

'KA-GODA?' hissed Tarzyn in Terkou's ear, which, in ape tongue, means, freely translated: 'Do you surrender?'

For a moment there was no reply, and Tarzyn added a few more ounces of pressure, which elicited a horrified shriek of pain from the great beast.

'KA-GODA?' repeated Tarzyn.

'KA-GODA!' cried Terkou.

'Listen,' said Tarzyn, easing up a trifle, but not releasing her hold. 'I am Tarzyn, Queen of the Apes, mighty hunter, mighty fighter. In all the jungle there is none so great.

'You have said: 'KA-GODA' to me. All the tribe have heard. Quarrel no more with your queen or your people, for next time I shall kill you. Do you understand?'

'HUH,' assented Terkou.

'And you are satisfied?'

'HUH,' said the ape.

Tarzyn let her up, and in a few minutes all were back at their vocations, as though naught had occurred to mar the tranquility of their primeval forest haunts.

But deep in the minds of the apes was rooted the conviction that Tarzyn was a mighty fighter and a strange creature. Strange because she had had it in her power to kill her enemy, but had allowed her to live--unharmed.

That afternoon as the tribe came together, as was their wont before darkness settled on the jungle, Tarzyn, her wounds washed in the waters of the stream, called the old males about her.

'You have seen again to-day that Tarzyn of the Apes is the greatest among you,' she said.

'HUH,' they replied with one voice, 'Tarzyn is great.'

'Tarzyn,' she continued, 'is not an ape. She is not like her people. Her ways are not their ways, and so Tarzyn is going back to the lair of her own kind by the waters of the great lake which has no farther shore. You must choose another to rule you, for Tarzyn will not return.'

And thus young Lady Greystoke took the first step toward the goal which she had set--the finding of other white women like herself.
Chapter 13

Her Own Kind

The following morning, Tarzyn, lame and sore from the wounds of her battle with Terkou, set out toward the west and the seacoast.

She traveled very slowly, sleeping in the jungle at night, and reaching her cabin late the following morning.

For several days she moved about but little, only enough to gather what fruits and nuts she required to satisfy the demands of hunger.

In ten days she was quite sound again, except for a terrible, half-healed scar, which, starting above her left eye ran across the top of her head, ending at the right ear. It was the mark left by Terkou when she had torn the scalp away.

During her convalescence Tarzyn tried to fashion a mantle from the skin of Sabora, which had lain all this time in the cabin. But she found the hide had dried as stiff as a board, and as she knew naught of tanning, she was forced to abandon her cherished plan.

Then she determined to filch what few garments she could from one of the black women of Mbonga's village, for Tarzyn of the Apes had decided to mark her evolution from the lower orders in every possible manner, and nothing seemed to her a more distinguishing badge of womanhood than ornaments and clothing.

To this end, therefore, she collected the various arm and leg ornaments she had taken from the black warriors who had succumbed to her swift and silent noose, and donned them all after the way she had seen them worn.

About her neck hung the golden chain from which depended the diamond encrusted locket of her mother, the Sir Alister. At her back was a quiver of arrows slung from a leathern shoulder belt, another piece of loot from some vanquished black.

About her waist was a belt of tiny strips of rawhide fashioned by herself as a support for the home-made scabbard in which hung her mother's hunting knife. The long bow which had been Kulonga's hung over her left shoulder.

The young Lady Greystoke was indeed a strange and war-like figure, her mass of black hair falling to her shoulders behind and cut with her hunting knife to a rude bang upon her forehead, that it might not fall before her eyes.

Her straight and perfect figure, muscled as the best of the ancient Roman gladiators must have been muscled, and yet with the soft and sinuous curves of a Greek god, told at a glance the wondrous combination of enormous strength with suppleness and speed.

A personification, was Tarzyn of the Apes, of the primitive woman, the hunter, the warrior.

With the noble poise of her handsome head upon those broad shoulders, and the fire of life and intelligence in those fine, clear eyes, she might readily have typified some demigod of a wild and warlike bygone people of her ancient forest.

But of these things Tarzyn did not think. She was worried because she had not clothing to indicate to all the jungle folks that she was a woman and not an ape, and grave doubt often entered her mind as to whether she might not yet become an ape.

Was not hair commencing to grow upon her face? All the apes had hair upon theirs but the black women were entirely hairless, with very few exceptions.

True, she had seen pictures in her books of women with great masses of hair upon lip and cheek and chin, but, nevertheless, Tarzyn was afraid. Almost daily she whetted her keen knife and scraped and whittled at her young hair to eradicate this degrading emblem of apehood.

And so she learned to groom--rudely and painfully, it is true--but, nevertheless, effectively.

When she felt quite strong again, after her bloody battle with Terkou, Tarzyn set off one morning towards Mbonga's village. She was moving carelessly along a winding jungle trail, instead of making her progress through the trees, when suddenly she came face to face with a black warrior.

The look of surprise on the savage face was almost comical, and before Tarzyn could unsling her bow the fellow had turned and fled down the path crying out in alarm as though to others before her.

Tarzyn took to the trees in pursuit, and in a few moments came in view of the women desperately striving to escape.

There were three of them, and they were racing madly in single file through the dense undergrowth.

Tarzyn easily distanced them, nor did they see her silent passage above their heads, nor note the crouching figure squatted upon a low branch ahead of them beneath which the trail led them.

Tarzyn let the first two pass beneath her, but as the third came swiftly on, the quiet noose dropped about the black throat. A quick jerk drew it taut.

There was an agonized scream from the victim, and her fellows turned to see her struggling body rise as by magic slowly into the dense foliage of the trees above.

With frightened shrieks they wheeled once more and plunged on in their efforts to escape.

Tarzyn dispatched her prisoner quickly and silently; removed the weapons and ornaments, and--oh, the greatest joy of all--a handsome deerskin breechcloth, which she quickly transferred to her own person.

Now indeed was she dressed as a woman should be. None there was who could now doubt her high origin. How she should have liked to have returned to the tribe to parade before their envious gaze this wondrous finery.

Taking the body across her shoulder, she moved more slowly through the trees toward the little palisaded village, for she again needed arrows.

As she approached quite close to the enclosure she saw an excited group surrounding the two fugitives, who, trembling with fright and exhaustion, were scarce able to recount the uncanny details of their adventure.

Mirando, they said, who had been ahead of them a short distance, had suddenly come screaming toward them, crying that a terrible white and naked warrior was pursuing her. The three of them had hurried toward the village as rapidly as their legs would carry them.

Again Mirando's shrill cry of mortal terror had caused them to look back, and there they had seen the most horrible sight--their companion's body flying upwards into the trees, her arms and legs beating the air and her tongue protruding from her open mouth. No other sound did she utter nor was there any creature in sight about her.

The villagers were worked up into a state of fear bordering on panic, but wise old Mbonga affected to feel considerable skepticism regarding the tale, and attributed the whole fabrication to their fright in the face of some real danger.

'You tell us this great story,' she said, 'because you do not dare to speak the truth. You do not dare admit that when the lion sprang upon Mirando you ran away and left her. You are cowards.'

Scarcely had Mbonga ceased speaking when a great crashing of branches in the trees above them caused the blacks to look up in renewed terror. The sight that met their eyes made even wise old Mbonga shudder, for there, turning and twisting in the air, came the dead body of Mirando, to sprawl with a sickening reverberation upon the ground at their feet.

With one accord the blacks took to their heels; nor did they stop until the last of them was lost in the dense shadows of the surrounding jungle.

Again Tarzyn came down into the village and renewed her supply of arrows and ate of the offering of food which the blacks had made to appease her wrath.

Before she left she carried the body of Mirando to the gate of the village, and propped it up against the palisade in such a way that the dead face seemed to be peering around the edge of the gatepost down the path which led to the jungle.

Then Tarzyn returned, hunting, always hunting, to the cabin by the beach.

It took a dozen attempts on the part of the thoroughly frightened blacks to reenter their village, past the horrible, grinning face of their dead fellow, and when they found the food and arrows gone they knew, what they had only too well feared, that Mirando had seen the evil spirit of the jungle.

That now seemed to them the logical explanation. Only those who saw this terrible god of the jungle died; for was it not true that none left alive in the village had ever seen her? Therefore, those who had died at her hands must have seen her and paid the penalty with their lives.

As long as they supplied her with arrows and food she would not harm them unless they looked upon her, so it was ordered by Mbonga that in addition to the food offering there should also be laid out an offering of arrows for this Munan- go-Keewati, and this was done from then on.

If you ever chance to pass that far off African village you will still see before a tiny thatched hut, built just without the village, a little iron pot in which is a quantity of food, and beside it a quiver of well-daubed arrows.

When Tarzyn came in sight of the beach where stood her cabin, a strange and unusual spectacle met her vision.

On the placid waters of the landlocked harbor floated a great ship, and on the beach a small boat was drawn up.

But, most wonderful of all, a number of white women like herself were moving about between the beach and her cabin.

Tarzyn saw that in many ways they were like the women of her picture books. She crept closer through the trees until she was quite close above them.

There were ten women, swarthy, sun-tanned, villainous looking fellows. Now they had congregated by the boat and were talking in loud, angry tones, with much gesticulating and shaking of fists.

Presently one of them, a little, mean-faced, black-maned fellow with a countenance which reminded Tarzyn of Pamba, the rat, laid her hand upon the shoulder of a giant who stood next her, and with whom all the others had been arguing and quarreling.

The little woman pointed inland, so that the giant was forced to turn away from the others to look in the direction indicated. As she turned, the little, mean-faced woman drew a revolver from her belt and shot the giant in the back.

The big fellow threw her hands above her head, her knees bent beneath her, and without a sound she tumbled forward upon the beach, dead.

The report of the weapon, the first that Tarzyn had ever heard, filled her with wonderment, but even this unaccustomed sound could not startle her healthy nerves into even a semblance of panic.

The conduct of the white strangers it was that caused her the greatest perturbation. She puckered her brows into a frown of deep thought. It was well, thought she, that she had not given way to her first impulse to rush forward and greet these white women as sisters.

They were evidently no different from the black men--no more civilized than the apes--no less cruel than Sabora.

For a moment the others stood looking at the little, mean- faced woman and the giant lying dead upon the beach.

Then one of them laughed and slapped the little woman upon the back. There was much more talk and gesticulating, but less quarreling.

Presently they launched the boat and all jumped into it and rowed away toward the great ship, where Tarzyn could see other figures moving about upon the deck.

When they had clambered aboard, Tarzyn dropped to earth behind a great tree and crept to her cabin, keeping it always between herself and the ship.

Slipping in at the door she found that everything had been ransacked. Her books and pencils strewed the floor. Her weapons and shields and other little store of treasures were littered about.

As she saw what had been done a great wave of anger surged through her, and the new made scar upon her forehead stood suddenly out, a bar of inflamed crimson against her tawny hide.

Quickly she ran to the cupboard and searched in the far recess of the lower shelf. Ah! She breathed a sigh of relief as she drew out the little tin box, and, opening it, found her greatest treasures undisturbed.

The photograph of the smiling, strong-faced young woman, and the little black puzzle book were safe.

What was that?

Her quick ear had caught a faint but unfamiliar sound.

Running to the window Tarzyn looked toward the harbor, and there she saw that a boat was being lowered from the great ship beside the one already in the water. Soon she saw many people clambering over the sides of the larger vessel and dropping into the boats. They were coming back in full force.

For a moment longer Tarzyn watched while a number of boxes and bundles were lowered into the waiting boats, then, as they shoved off from the ship's side, the ape-woman snatched up a piece of paper, and with a pencil printed on it for a few moments until it bore several lines of strong, well-made, almost letter-perfect characters.

This notice she stuck upon the door with a small sharp splinter of wood. Then gathering up her precious tin box, her arrows, and as many bows and spears as she could carry, she hastened through the door and disappeared into the forest.

When the two boats were beached upon the silvery sand it was a strange assortment of humanity that clambered ashore.

Some twenty souls in all there were, fifteen of them rough and villainous appearing seawomen.

The others of the party were of different stamp.

One was an elderly woman, with white hair and large rimmed spectacles. Her slightly stooped shoulders were draped in an ill-fitting, though immaculate, frock coat, and a shiny silk hat added to the incongruity of her garb in an African jungle.

The second member of the party to land was a tall young woman in white ducks, while directly behind came another elderly woman with a very high forehead and a fussy, excitable manner.

After these came a huge Black clothed like Solomyn as to colors. His great eyes rolled in evident terror, first toward the jungle and then toward the cursing band of sailors who were removing the bales and boxes from the boats.

The last member of the party to disembark was a boy of about nineteen, and it was the young woman who stood at the boat's prow to lift his high and dry upon land. He gave her a brave and pretty smile of thanks, but no words passed between them.

In silence the party advanced toward the cabin. It was evident that whatever their intentions, all had been decided upon before they left the ship; and so they came to the door, the sailors carrying the boxes and bales, followed by the five who were of so different a class. The women put down their burdens, and then one caught sight of the notice which Tarzyn had posted.

'Ho, mates!' she cried. 'What's here? This sign was not posted an hour ago or I'll eat the cook.'

The others gathered about, craning their necks over the shoulders of those before them, but as few of them could read at all, and then only after the most laborious fashion, one finally turned to the little old woman of the top hat and frock coat.

'Hi, perfesser,' she called, 'step for'rd and read the bloomin' notis.'

Thus addressed, the old woman came slowly to where the sailors stood, followed by the other members of her party. Adjusting her spectacles she looked for a moment at the placard and then, turning away, strolled off muttering to herself: 'Most remarkable--most remarkable!'

'Hi, old fossil,' cried the woman who had first called on her for assistance, 'did je think we wanted of you to read the bloomin' notis to yourself? Come back here and read it out loud, you old barnacle.'

The old woman stopped and, turning back, said: 'Oh, yes, my dear lady, a thousand pardons. It was quite thoughtless of me, yes--very thoughtless. Most remarkable--most remarkable!'

Again she faced the notice and read it through, and doubtless would have turned off again to ruminate upon it had not the sailor grasped her roughly by the collar and howled into her ear.

'Read it out loud, you blithering old idiot.'

'Ah, yes indeed, yes indeed,' replied the professor softly, and adjusting her spectacles once more she read aloud:

THIS IS THE HOUSE OF TARZAN, THE KILLER OF BEASTS AND MANY BLACK WOMEN. DO NOT HARM THE THINGS WHICH ARE TARZAN'S. TARZAN WATCHES. TARZAN OF THE APES.

'Who the devil is Tarzyn?' cried the sailor who had before spoken.

'She evidently speaks English,' said the young woman.

'But what does `Tarzyn of the Apes' mean?' cried the boy.

'I do not know, Mister Porter,' replied the young woman, 'unless we have discovered a runaway simian from the London Zoo who has brought back a European education to her jungle home. What do you make of it, Professor Porter?' she added, turning to the old woman.

Professor Arcadia Q. Porter adjusted her spectacles.

'Ah, yes, indeed; yes indeed--most remarkable, most remarkable!' said the professor; 'but I can add nothing further to what I have already remarked in elucidation of this truly momentous occurrence,' and the professor turned slowly in the direction of the jungle.

'But, papa,' cried the boy, 'you haven't said anything about it yet.'

'Tut, tut, child; tut, tut,' responded Professor Porter, in a kindly and indulgent tone, 'do not trouble your pretty head with such weighty and abstruse problems,' and again she wandered slowly off in still another direction, her eyes bent upon the ground at her feet, her hands clasped behind her beneath the flowing tails of her coat.

'I reckon the daffy old bounder don't know no more'n we do about it,' growled the rat-faced sailor.

'Keep a civil tongue in your head,' cried the young woman, her face paling in anger, at the insulting tone of the sailor. 'You've murdered our officers and robbed us. We are absolutely in your power, but you'll treat Professor Porter and Mister Porter with respect or I'll break that vile neck of yours with my bare hands--guns or no guns,' and the young fellow stepped so close to the rat-faced sailor that the latter, though she bore two revolvers and a villainous looking knife in her belt, slunk back abashed.

'You damned coward,' cried the young woman. 'You'd never dare shoot a woman until her back was turned. You don't dare shoot me even then,' and she deliberately turned her back full upon the sailor and walked nonchalantly away as if to put her to the test.

The sailor's hand crept slyly to the butt of one of her revolvers; her wicked eyes glared vengefully at the retreating form of the young Englisher. The gaze of her fellows was upon her, but still she hesitated. At heart she was even a greater coward than Ms. Willa Clayton had imagined.

Two keen eyes had watched every move of the party from the foliage of a nearby tree. Tarzyn had seen the surprise caused by her notice, and while she could understand nothing of the spoken language of these strange people their gestures and facial expressions told her much.

The act of the little rat-faced sailor in killing one of her comrades had aroused a strong dislike in Tarzyn, and now that she saw her quarreling with the fine-looking young woman her animosity was still further stirred.

Tarzyn had never seen the effects of a firearm before, though her books had taught her something of them, but when she saw the rat-faced one fingering the butt of her revolver she thought of the scene she had witnessed so short a time before, and naturally expected to see the young woman murdered as had been the huge sailor earlier in the day.

So Tarzyn fitted a poisoned arrow to her bow and drew a bead upon the rat-faced sailor, but the foliage was so thick that she soon saw the arrow would be deflected by the leaves or some small branch, and instead she launched a heavy spear from her lofty perch.

Clayton had taken but a dozen steps. The rat-faced sailor had half drawn her revolver; the other sailors stood watching the scene intently.

Professor Porter had already disappeared into the jungle, whither she was being followed by the fussy Samantha T. Philander, her secretary and assistant.

Esmond, the Black, was busy sorting his mistress' baggage from the pile of bales and boxes beside the cabin, and Mister Porter had turned away to follow Clayton, when something caused his to turn again toward the sailor.

And then three things happened almost simultaneously. The sailor jerked out her weapon and leveled it at Clayton's back, Mister Porter screamed a warning, and a long, metal- shod spear shot like a bolt from above and passed entirely through the right shoulder of the rat-faced woman.

The revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and the seawoman crumpled up with a scream of pain and terror.

Clayton turned and rushed back toward the scene. The sailors stood in a frightened group, with drawn weapons, peering into the jungle. The wounded woman writhed and shrieked upon the ground.

Clayton, unseen by any, picked up the fallen revolver and slipped it inside her shirt, then she joined the sailors in gazing, mystified, into the jungle.

'Who could it have been?' whispered Jan Porter, and the young woman turned to see his standing, wide-eyed and wondering, close beside her.

'I dare say Tarzyn of the Apes is watching us all right,' she answered, in a dubious tone. 'I wonder, now, who that spear was intended for. If for Snipes, then our ape friend is a friend indeed.

'By jove, where are your mother and Ms. Philander? There's someone or something in that jungle, and it's armed, whatever it is. Ho! Professor! Ms. Philander!' young Clayton shouted. There was no response.

'What's to be done, Mister Porter?' continued the young woman, her face clouded by a frown of worry and indecision.

'I can't leave you here alone with these cutthroats, and you certainly can't venture into the jungle with me; yet someone must go in search of your mother. She is more than apt to wandering off aimlessly, regardless of danger or direction, and Ms. Philander is only a trifle less impractical than she. You will pardon my bluntness, but our lives are all in jeopardy here, and when we get your mother back something must be done to impress upon her the dangers to which she exposes you as well as herself by her absent-mindedness.'

'I quite agree with you,' replied the boy, 'and I am not offended at all. Dear old papa would sacrifice her life for me without an instant's hesitation, provided one could keep her mind on so frivolous a matter for an entire instant. There is only one way to keep her in safety, and that is to chain her to a tree. The poor dear is SO impractical.'

'I have it!' suddenly exclaimed Clayton. 'You can use a revolver, can't you?'

'Yes. Why?'

'I have one. With it you and Esmond will be comparatively safe in this cabin while I am searching for your mother and Ms. Philander. Come, call the man and I will hurry on. They can't have gone far.'

Jan did as she suggested and when she saw the door close safely behind them Clayton turned toward the jungle.

Some of the sailors were drawing the spear from their wounded comrade and, as Clayton approached, she asked if she could borrow a revolver from one of them while she searched the jungle for the professor.

The rat-faced one, finding she was not dead, had regained her composure, and with a volley of oaths directed at Clayton refused in the name of her fellows to allow the young woman any firearms.

This woman, Snipes, had assumed the role of chief since she had killed their former leader, and so little time had elapsed that none of her companions had as yet questioned her authority.

Clayton's only response was a shrug of the shoulders, but as she left them she picked up the spear which had transfixed Snipes, and thus primitively armed, the daughter of the then Lady Greystoke strode into the dense jungle.

Every few moments she called aloud the names of the wanderers. The watchers in the cabin by the beach heard the sound of her voice growing ever fainter and fainter, until at last it was swallowed up by the myriad noises of the primeval wood.

When Professor Arcadia Q. Porter and her assistant, Samantha T. Philander, after much insistence on the part of the latter, had finally turned their steps toward camp, they were as completely lost in the wild and tangled labyrinth of the matted jungle as two human beings well could be, though they did not know it.

It was by the merest caprice of fortune that they headed toward the west coast of Africa, instead of toward Zanzibar on the opposite side of the dark continent.

When in a short time they reached the beach, only to find no camp in sight, Philander was positive that they were north of their proper destination, while, as a matter of fact they were about two hundred yards south of it.

It never occurred to either of these impractical theorists to call aloud on the chance of attracting their friends' attention. Instead, with all the assurance that deductive reasoning from a wrong premise induces in one, Ms. Samantha T. Philander grasped Professor Arcadia Q. Porter firmly by the arm and hurried the weakly protesting old gentlewoman off in the direction of Cape Town, fifteen hundred miles to the south.

When Jan and Esmond found themselves safely behind the cabin door the Black's first thought was to barricade the portal from the inside. With this idea in mind he turned to search for some means of putting it into execution; but his first view of the interior of the cabin brought a shriek of terror to his lips, and like a frightened child the huge man ran to bury his face on his mistress' shoulder.

Jan, turning at the cry, saw the cause of it lying prone upon the floor before them--the whitened skeleton of a woman. A further glance revealed a second skeleton upon the bed.

'What horrible place are we in?' murmured the awe-struck boy. But there was no panic in his fright.

At last, disengaging himself from the frantic clutch of the still shrieking Esmond, Jan crossed the room to look into the little cradle, knowing what he should see there even before the tiny skeleton disclosed itself in all its pitiful and pathetic frailty.

What an awful tragedy these poor mute bones proclaimed! The boy shuddered at thought of the eventualities which might lie before himself and his friends in this ill-fated cabin, the haunt of mysterious, perhaps hostile, beings.

Quickly, with an impatient stamp of his little foot, he endeavored to shake off the gloomy forebodings, and turning to Esmond bade his cease his wailing.

'Stop, Esmond, stop it this minute!' he cried. 'You are only making it worse.'

He ended lamely, a little quiver in his own voice as he thought of the three women, upon whom he depended for protection, wandering in the depth of that awful forest.

Soon the boy found that the door was equipped with a heavy wooden bar upon the inside, and after several efforts the combined strength of the two enabled them to slip it into place, the first time in twenty years.

Then they sat down upon a bench with their arms about one another, and waited.
Chapter 14

At the Mercy of the Jungle

After Clayton had plunged into the jungle, the sailors --mutineers of the Arrow--fell into a discussion of their next step; but on one point all were agreed--that they should hasten to put off to the anchored Arrow, where they could at least be safe from the spears of their unseen foe. And so, while Jan Porter and Esmond were barricading themselves within the cabin, the cowardly crew of cutthroats were pulling rapidly for their ship in the two boats that had brought them ashore.

So much had Tarzyn seen that day that her head was in a whirl of wonder. But the most wonderful sight of all, to her, was the face of the beautiful white boy.

Here at last was one of her own kind; of that she was positive. And the young woman and the two old women; they, too, were much as she had pictured her own people to be.

But doubtless they were as ferocious and cruel as other women she had seen. The fact that they alone of all the party were unarmed might account for the fact that they had killed no one. They might be very different if provided with weapons.

Tarzyn had seen the young woman pick up the fallen revolver of the wounded Snipes and hide it away in her breast; and she had also seen her slip it cautiously to the boy as he entered the cabin door.

She did not understand anything of the motives behind all that she had seen; but, somehow, intuitively she liked the young woman and the two old women, and for the boy she had a strange longing which she scarcely understood. As for the big black man, he was evidently connected in some way to the boy, and so she liked him, also.

For the sailors, and especially Snipes, she had developed a great hatred. She knew by their threatening gestures and by the expression upon their evil faces that they were enemies of the others of the party, and so she decided to watch closely.

Tarzyn wondered why the women had gone into the jungle, nor did it ever occur to her that one could become lost in that maze of undergrowth which to hers was as simple as is the main street of your own home town to you.

When she saw the sailors row away toward the ship, and knew that the boy and his companion were safe in her cabin, Tarzyn decided to follow the young woman into the jungle and learn what her errand might be. She swung off rapidly in the direction taken by Clayton, and in a short time heard faintly in the distance the now only occasional calls of the Englisher to her friends.

Presently Tarzyn came up with the white woman, who, almost fagged, was leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from her forehead. The ape-woman, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching this new specimen of her own race intently.

At intervals Clayton called aloud and finally it came to Tarzyn that she was searching for the old woman.

Tarzyn was on the point of going off to look for them herself, when she caught the yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the jungle toward Clayton.

It was Sheeta, the leopard. Now, Tarzyn heard the soft bending of grasses and wondered why the young white woman was not warned. Could it be she had failed to note the loud warning? Never before had Tarzyn known Sheeta to be so clumsy.

No, the white woman did not hear. Sheeta was crouching for the spring, and then, shrill and horrible, there rose from the stillness of the jungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and Sheeta turned, crashing into the underbrush.

Clayton came to her feet with a start. Her blood ran cold. Never in all her life had so fearful a sound smote upon her ears. She was no coward; but if ever woman felt the icy fingers of fear upon her heart, Willa Clayton, eldest daughter of Lady Greystoke of England, did that day in the fastness of the African jungle.

The noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close beside her, and the sound of that bloodcurdling shriek from above, tested Clayton's courage to the limit; but she could not know that it was to that very voice she owed her life, nor that the creature who hurled it forth was her own cousin--the real Lady Greystoke.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Clayton, disheartened and discouraged, was in a terrible quandary as to the proper course to pursue; whether to keep on in search of Professor Porter, at the almost certain risk of her own death in the jungle by night, or to return to the cabin where she might at least serve to protect Jan from the perils which confronted his on all sides.

She did not wish to return to camp without his father; still more, she shrank from the thought of leaving his alone and unprotected in the hands of the mutineers of the Arrow, or to the hundred unknown dangers of the jungle.

Possibly, too, she thought, the professor and Philander might have returned to camp. Yes, that was more than likely. At least she would return and see, before she continued what seemed to be a most fruitless quest. And so she started, stumbling back through the thick and matted underbrush in the direction that she thought the cabin lay.

To Tarzyn's surprise the young woman was heading further into the jungle in the general direction of Mbonga's village, and the shrewd young ape-woman was convinced that she was lost.

To Tarzyn this was scarcely incomprehensible; her judgment told her that no woman would venture toward the village of the cruel blacks armed only with a spear which, from the awkward way in which she carried it, was evidently an unaccustomed weapon to this white woman. Nor was she following the trail of the old women. That, they had crossed and left long since, though it had been fresh and plain before Tarzyn's eyes.

Tarzyn was perplexed. The fierce jungle would make easy prey of this unprotected stranger in a very short time if she were not guided quickly to the beach.

Yes, there was Numa, the lion, even now, stalking the white woman a dozen paces to the right.

Clayton heard the great body paralleling her course, and now there rose upon the evening air the beast's thunderous roar. The woman stopped with upraised spear and faced the brush from which issued the awful sound. The shadows were deepening, darkness was settling in.

God! To die here alone, beneath the fangs of wild beasts; to be torn and rended; to feel the hot breath of the brute on her face as the great paw crushed down up her breast!

For a moment all was still. Clayton stood rigid, with raised spear. Presently a faint rustling of the bush apprised her of the stealthy creeping of the thing behind. It was gathering for the spring. At last she saw it, not twenty feet away--the long, lithe, muscular body and tawny head of a huge black-maned lion.

The beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly. As its eyes met Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately, cautiously gathered its hind quarters behind it.

In agony the woman watched, fearful to launch her spear, powerless to fly.

She heard a noise in the tree above her. Some new danger, she thought, but she dared not take her eyes from the yellow green orbs before her. There was a sharp twang as of a broken banjo-string, and at the same instant an arrow appeared in the yellow hide of the crouching lion.

With a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang; but, somehow, Clayton stumbled to one side, and as she turned again to face the infuriated queen of beasts, she was appalled at the sight which confronted her. Almost simultaneously with the lion's turning to renew the attack a half-naked giant dropped from the tree above squarely on the brute's back.

With lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron muscle encircled the huge neck, and the great beast was raised from behind, roaring and pawing the air--raised as easily as Clayton would have lifted a pet dog.

The scene she witnessed there in the twilight depths of the African jungle was burned forever into the Englisher's brain.

The woman before hers was the embodiment of physical perfection and giant strength; yet it was not upon these she depended in her battle with the great cat, for mighty as were her muscles, they were as nothing by comparison with Numa's. To her agility, to her brain and to her long keen knife she owed her supremacy.

Her right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand plunged the knife time and again into the unprotected side behind the left shoulder. The infuriated beast, pulled up and backwards until she stood upon her hind legs, struggled impotently in this unnatural position.

Had the battle been of a few seconds' longer duration the outcome might have been different, but it was all accomplished so quickly that the lion had scarce time to recover from the confusion of its surprise ere it sank lifeless to the ground.

Then the strange figure which had vanquished it stood erect upon the carcass, and throwing back the wild and handsome head, gave out the fearsome cry which a few moments earlier had so startled Clayton.

Before her she saw the figure of a young woman, naked except for a loin cloth and a few barbaric ornaments about arms and legs; on the breast a priceless diamond locket gleaming against a smooth brown skin.

The hunting knife had been returned to its homely sheath, and the woman was gathering up her bow and quiver from where she had tossed them when she leaped to attack the lion.

Clayton spoke to the stranger in English, thanking her for her brave rescue and complimenting her on the wondrous strength and dexterity she had displayed, but the only answer was a steady stare and a faint shrug of the mighty shoulders, which might betoken either disparagement of the service rendered, or ignorance of Clayton's language.

When the bow and quiver had been slung to her back the wild woman, for such Clayton now thought her, once more drew her knife and deftly carved a dozen large strips of meat from the lion's carcass. Then, squatting upon her haunches, she proceeded to eat, first motioning Clayton to join her.

The strong white teeth sank into the raw and dripping flesh in apparent relish of the meal, but Clayton could not bring herself to share the uncooked meat with her strange host; instead she watched her, and presently there dawned upon her the conviction that this was Tarzyn of the Apes, whose notice she had seen posted upon the cabin door that morning.

If so she must speak English.

Again Clayton attempted speech with the ape-woman; but the replies, now vocal, were in a strange tongue, which resembled the chattering of monkeys mingled with the growling of some wild beast.

No, this could not be Tarzyn of the Apes, for it was very evident that she was an utter stranger to English.

When Tarzyn had completed her repast she rose and, pointing a very different direction from that which Clayton had been pursuing, started off through the jungle toward the point she had indicated.

Clayton, bewildered and confused, hesitated to follow her, for she thought she was but being led more deeply into the mazes of the forest; but the ape-woman, seeing her disinclined to follow, returned, and, grasping her by the coat, dragged her along until she was convinced that Clayton understood what was required of her. Then she left her to follow voluntarily.

The Englisher, finally concluding that she was a prisoner, saw no alternative open but to accompany her captor, and thus they traveled slowly through the jungle while the sable mantle of the impenetrable forest night fell about them, and the stealthy footfalls of padded paws mingled with the breaking of twigs and the wild calls of the savage life that Clayton felt closing in upon her.

Suddenly Clayton heard the faint report of a firearm--a single shot, and then silence.

In the cabin by the beach two thoroughly terrified men clung to each other as they crouched upon the low bench in the gathering darkness.

The Black sobbed hysterically, bemoaning the evil day that had witnessed his departure from his dear Maryland, while the white boy, dry eyed and outwardly calm, was torn by inward fears and forebodings. He feared not more for himself than for the three women whom he knew to be wandering in the abysmal depths of the savage jungle, from which he now heard issuing the almost incessant shrieks and roars, barkings and growlings of its terrifying and fearsome denizens as they sought their prey.

And now there came the sound of a heavy body brushing against the side of the cabin. He could hear the great padded paws upon the ground outside. For an instant, all was silence; even the bedlam of the forest died to a faint murmur. Then he distinctly heard the beast outside sniffing at the door, not two feet from where he crouched. Instinctively the boy shuddered, and shrank closer to the black man.

'Hush!' he whispered. 'Hush, Esmond,' for the man's sobs and groans seemed to have attracted the thing that stalked there just beyond the thin wall.

A gentle scratching sound was heard on the door. The brute tried to force an entrance; but presently this ceased, and again he heard the great pads creeping stealthily around the cabin. Again they stopped--beneath the window on which the terrified eyes of the boy now glued themselves.

'God!' he murmured, for now, silhouetted against the moonlit sky beyond, he saw framed in the tiny square of the latticed window the head of a huge lioness. The gleaming eyes were fixed upon his in intent ferocity.

'Look, Esmond!' he whispered. 'For God's sake, what shall we do? Look! Quick! The window!'

Esmond, cowering still closer to his master, took one frightened glance toward the little square of moonlight, just as the lioness emitted a low, savage snarl.

The sight that met the poor man's eyes was too much for the already overstrung nerves.

'Oh, Gaberelle!' he shrieked, and slid to the floor an inert and senseless mass.

For what seemed an eternity the great brute stood with its forepaws upon the sill, glaring into the little room. Presently it tried the strength of the lattice with its great talons.

The boy had almost ceased to breathe, when, to his relief, the head disappeared and he heard the brute's footsteps leaving the window. But now they came to the door again, and once more the scratching commenced; this time with increasing force until the great beast was tearing at the massive panels in a perfect frenzy of eagerness to seize its defenseless victims.

Could Jan have known the immense strength of that door, built piece by piece, he would have felt less fear of the lioness reaching his by this avenue.

Little did Joan Clayton imagine when she fashioned that crude but mighty portal that one day, twenty years later, it would shield a fair American boy, then unborn, from the teeth and talons of a man-eater.

For fully twenty minutes the brute alternately sniffed and tore at the door, occasionally giving voice to a wild, savage cry of baffled rage. At length, however, he gave up the attempt, and Jan heard his returning toward the window, beneath which he paused for an instant, and then launched his great weight against the timeworn lattice.

The boy heard the wooden rods groan beneath the impact; but they held, and the huge body dropped back to the ground below.

Again and again the lioness repeated these tactics, until finally the horrified prisoner within saw a portion of the lattice give way, and in an instant one great paw and the head of the animal were thrust within the room.

Slowly the powerful neck and shoulders spread the bars apart, and the lithe body protruded farther and farther into the room.

As in a trance, the boy rose, his hand upon his breast, wide eyes staring horror-stricken into the snarling face of the beast scarce ten feet from him. At his feet lay the prostrate form of the Black. If he could but arouse him, their combined efforts might possibly avail to beat back the fierce and bloodthirsty intruder.

Jan stooped to grasp the black man by the shoulder. Roughly he shook him.

'Esmond! Esmond!' he cried. 'Help me, or we are lost.'

Esmond opened his eyes. The first object they encountered was the dripping fangs of the hungry lioness.

With a horrified scream the poor man rose to his hands and knees, and in this position scurried across the room, shrieking: 'O Gaberelle! O Gaberelle!' at the top of his lungs.

Esmond weighed some two hundred and eighty pounds, and his extreme haste, added to his extreme corpulency, produced a most amazing result when Esmond elected to travel on all fours.

For a moment the lioness remained quiet with intense gaze directed upon the flitting Esmond, whose goal appeared to be the cupboard, into which he attempted to propel his huge bulk; but as the shelves were but nine or ten inches apart, he only succeeded in getting his head in; whereupon, with a final screech, which paled the jungle noises into insignificance, he fainted once again.

With the subsidence of Esmond the lioness renewed his efforts to wriggle his huge bulk through the weakening lattice.

The boy, standing pale and rigid against the farther wall, sought with ever-increasing terror for some loophole of escape. Suddenly his hand, tight-pressed against his chest, felt the hard outline of the revolver that Clayton had left with his earlier in the day.

Quickly he snatched it from its hiding-place, and, leveling it full at the lioness's face, pulled the trigger.

There was a flash of flame, the roar of the discharge, and an answering roar of pain and anger from the beast.

Jan Porter saw the great form disappear from the window, and then he, too, fainted, the revolver falling at his side.

But Sabora was not killed. The bullet had but inflicted a painful wound in one of the great shoulders. It was the surprise at the blinding flash and the deafening roar that had caused his hasty but temporary retreat.

In another instant he was back at the lattice, and with renewed fury was clawing at the aperture, but with lessened effect, since the wounded member was almost useless.

He saw his prey--the two women--lying senseless upon the floor. There was no longer any resistance to be overcome. His meat lay before him, and Sabora had only to worm his way through the lattice to claim it.

Slowly he forced his great bulk, inch by inch, through the opening. Now his head was through, now one great forearm and shoulder.

Carefully he drew up the wounded member to insinuate it gently beyond the tight pressing bars.

A moment more and both shoulders through, the long, sinuous body and the narrow hips would glide quickly after.

It was on this sight that Jan Porter again opened his eyes.
Chapter 15

The Forest God

When Clayton heard the report of the firearm she fell into an agony of fear and apprehension. She knew that one of the sailors might be the author of it; but the fact that she had left the revolver with Jan, together with the overwrought condition of her nerves, made her morbidly positive that he was threatened with some great danger. Perhaps even now he was attempting to defend himself against some savage woman or beast.

What were the thoughts of her strange captor or guide Clayton could only vaguely conjecture; but that she had heard the shot, and was in some manner affected by it was quite evident, for she quickened her pace so appreciably that Clayton, stumbling blindly in her wake, was down a dozen times in as many minutes in a vain effort to keep pace with her, and soon was left hopelessly behind.

Fearing that she would again be irretrievably lost, she called aloud to the wild woman ahead of her, and in a moment had the satisfaction of seeing her drop lightly to her side from the branches above.

For a moment Tarzyn looked at the young woman closely, as though undecided as to just what was best to do; then, stooping down before Clayton, she motioned her to grasp her about the neck, and, with the white woman upon her back, Tarzyn took to the trees.

The next few minutes the young Englisher never forgot. High into bending and swaying branches she was borne with what seemed to her incredible swiftness, while Tarzyn chafed at the slowness of her progress.

From one lofty branch the agile creature swung with Clayton through a dizzy arc to a neighboring tree; then for a hundred yards maybe the sure feet threaded a maze of interwoven limbs, balancing like a tightrope walker high above the black depths of verdure beneath.

From the first sensation of chilling fear Clayton passed to one of keen admiration and envy of those giant muscles and that wondrous instinct or knowledge which guided this forest god through the inky blackness of the night as easily and safely as Clayton would have strolled a London street at high noon.

Occasionally they would enter a spot where the foliage above was less dense, and the bright rays of the moon lit up before Clayton's wondering eyes the strange path they were traversing.

At such times the woman fairly caught her breath at sight of the horrid depths below them, for Tarzyn took the easiest way, which often led over a hundred feet above the earth.

And yet with all her seeming speed, Tarzyn was in reality feeling her way with comparative slowness, searching constantly for limbs of adequate strength for the maintenance of this double weight.

Presently they came to the clearing before the beach. Tarzyn's quick ears had heard the strange sounds of Sabora's efforts to force his way through the lattice, and it seemed to Clayton that they dropped a straight hundred feet to earth, so quickly did Tarzyn descend. Yet when they struck the ground it was with scarce a jar; and as Clayton released her hold on the ape-woman she saw her dart like a squirrel for the opposite side of the cabin.

The Englisher sprang quickly after her just in time to see the hind quarters of some huge animal about to disappear through the window of the cabin.

As Jan opened his eyes to a realization of the imminent peril which threatened him, his brave young heart gave up at last its final vestige of hope. But then to his surprise he saw the huge animal being slowly drawn back through the window, and in the moonlight beyond he saw the heads and shoulders of two women.

As Clayton rounded the corner of the cabin to behold the animal disappearing within, it was also to see the ape-woman seize the long tail in both hands, and, bracing herself with her feet against the side of the cabin, throw all her mighty strength into the effort to draw the beast out of the interior.

Clayton was quick to lend a hand, but the ape-woman jabbered to her in a commanding and peremptory tone something which Clayton knew to be orders, though she could not understand them.

At last, under their combined efforts, the great body was slowly dragged farther and farther outside the window, and then there came to Clayton's mind a dawning conception of the rash bravery of her companion's act.

For a naked woman to drag a shrieking, clawing man-eater forth from a window by the tail to save a strange white boy, was indeed the last word in heroism.

Insofar as Clayton was concerned it was a very different matter, since the boy was not only of her own kind and race, but was the one man in all the world whom she loved.

Though she knew that the lioness would make short work of both of them, she pulled with a will to keep it from Jan Porter. And then she recalled the battle between this woman and the great, black-maned lion which she had witnessed a short time before, and she commenced to feel more assurance.

Tarzyn was still issuing orders which Clayton could not understand.

She was trying to tell the stupid white woman to plunge her poisoned arrows into Sabora's back and sides, and to reach the savage heart with the long, thin hunting knife that hung at Tarzyn's hip; but the woman would not understand, and Tarzyn did not dare release her hold to do the things herself, for she knew that the puny white woman never could hold mighty Sabora alone, for an instant.

Slowly the lioness was emerging from the window. At last his shoulders were out.

And then Clayton saw an incredible thing. Tarzyn, racking her brains for some means to cope single-handed with the infuriated beast, had suddenly recalled her battle with Terkou; and as the great shoulders came clear of the window, so that the lioness hung upon the sill only by his forepaws, Tarzyn suddenly released her hold upon the brute.

With the quickness of a striking rattler she launched herself full upon Sabora's back, her strong young arms seeking and gaining a full-Nelson upon the beast, as she had learned it that other day during her bloody, wrestling victory over Terkou.

With a roar the lioness turned completely over upon his back, falling full upon his enemy; but the black-haired giant only closed tighter her hold.

Pawing and tearing at earth and air, Sabora rolled and threw himself this way and that in an effort to dislodge this strange antagonist; but ever tighter and tighter drew the iron bands that were forcing his head lower and lower upon his tawny breast.

Higher crept the steel forearms of the ape-woman about the back of Sabora's neck. Weaker and weaker became the lioness's efforts.

At last Clayton saw the immense muscles of Tarzyn's shoulders and biceps leap into corded knots beneath the silver moonlight. There was a long sustained and supreme effort on the ape-woman's part--and the vertebrae of Sabora's neck parted with a sharp snap.

In an instant Tarzyn was upon her feet, and for the second time that day Clayton heard the bull ape's savage roar of victory. Then she heard Jan's agonized cry:

'Cecil--Mr. Clayton! Oh, what is it? What is it?'

Running quickly to the cabin door, Clayton called out that all was right, and shouted to his to open the door. As quickly as he could he raised the great bar and fairly dragged Clayton within.

'What was that awful noise?' he whispered, shrinking close to her.

'It was the cry of the kill from the throat of the woman who has just saved your life, Mister Porter. Wait, I will fetch her so you may thank her.'

The frightened boy would not be left alone, so he accompanied Clayton to the side of the cabin where lay the dead body of the lioness.

Tarzyn of the Apes was gone.

Clayton called several times, but there was no reply, and so the two returned to the greater safety of the interior.

'What a frightful sound!' cried Jan, 'I shudder at the mere thought of it. Do not tell me that a human throat voiced that hideous and fearsome shriek.'

'But it did, Mister Porter,' replied Clayton; 'or at least if not a human throat that of a forest god.'

And then she told him of her experiences with this strange creature--of how twice the wild woman had saved her life--of the wondrous strength, and agility, and bravery--of the brown skin and the handsome face.

'I cannot make it out at all,' she concluded. 'At first I thought she might be Tarzyn of the Apes; but she neither speaks nor understands English, so that theory is untenable.'

'Well, whatever she may be,' cried the boy, 'we owe her our lives, and may God bless her and keep her in safety in her wild and savage jungle!'

'Amen,' said Clayton, fervently.

'For the good Lady's sake, ain't I dead?'

The two turned to see Esmond sitting upright upon the floor, his great eyes rolling from side to side as though he could not believe their testimony as to his whereabouts.

And now, for Jan Porter, the reaction came, and he threw himself upon the bench, sobbing with hysterical laughter.
Chapter 16

'Most Remarkable'

Several miles south of the cabin, upon a strip of sandy beach, stood two old women, arguing.

Before them stretched the broad Atlantic. At their backs was the Dark Continent. Close around them loomed the impenetrable blackness of the jungle.

Savage beasts roared and growled; noises, hideous and weird, assailed their ears. They had wandered for miles in search of their camp, but always in the wrong direction. They were as hopelessly lost as though they suddenly had been transported to another world.

At such a time, indeed, every fiber of their combined intellects must have been concentrated upon the vital question of the minute--the life-and-death question to them of retracing their steps to camp.

Samantha T. Philander was speaking.

'But, my dear professor,' she was saying, 'I still maintain that but for the victories of Ferdinand and Isabella over the fifteenth-century Moors in Spain the world would be today a thousand years in advance of where we now find ourselves. The Moors were essentially a tolerant, broad-minded, liberal race of agriculturists, artisans and merchants--the very type of people that has made possible such civilization as we find today in America and Europe--while the Spaniards--'

'Tut, tut, dear Ms. Philander,' interrupted Professor Porter; 'their religion positively precluded the possibilities you suggest. Moslemism was, is, and always will be, a blight on that scientific progress which has marked--'

'Bless me! Professor,' interjected Ms. Philander, who had turned her gaze toward the jungle, 'there seems to be someone approaching.'

Professor Arcadia Q. Porter turned in the direction indicated by the nearsighted Ms. Philander.

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander,' she chided. 'How often must I urge you to seek that absolute concentration of your mental faculties which alone may permit you to bring to bear the highest powers of intellectuality upon the momentous problems which naturally fall to the lot of great minds? And now I find you guilty of a most flagrant breach of courtesy in interrupting my learned discourse to call attention to a mere quadruped of the genus FELIS. As I was saying, Mr.--'

'Heavens, Professor, a lion?' cried Ms. Philander, straining her weak eyes toward the dim figure outlined against the dark tropical underbrush.

'Yes, yes, Ms. Philander, if you insist upon employing slang in your discourse, a `lion.' But as I was saying--'

'Bless me, Professor,' again interrupted Ms. Philander; 'permit me to suggest that doubtless the Moors who were conquered in the fifteenth century will continue in that most regrettable condition for the time being at least, even though we postpone discussion of that world calamity until we may attain the enchanting view of yon FELIS CARNIVORA which distance proverbially is credited with lending.'

In the meantime the lion had approached with quiet dignity to within ten paces of the two women, where she stood curiously watching them.

The moonlight flooded the beach, and the strange group stood out in bold relief against the yellow sand.

'Most reprehensible, most reprehensible,' exclaimed Professor Porter, with a faint trace of irritation in her voice. 'Never, Ms. Philander, never before in my life have I known one of these animals to be permitted to roam at large from its cage. I shall most certainly report thim outrageous breach of ethics to the directors of the adjacent zoological garden.'

'Quite right, Professor,' agreed Ms. Philander, 'and the sooner it is done the better. Let us start now.'

Seizing the professor by the arm, Ms. Philander set off in the direction that would put the greatest distance between themselves and the lion.

They had proceeded but a short distance when a backward glance revealed to the horrified gaze of Ms. Philander that the lion was following them. She tightened her grip upon the protesting professor and increased her speed.

'As I was saying, Ms. Philander,' repeated Professor Porter.

Ms. Philander took another hasty glance rearward. The lion also had quickened her gait, and was doggedly maintaining an unvarying distance behind them.

'She is following us!' gasped Ms. Philander, breaking into a run.

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander,' remonstrated the professor, 'this unseemly haste is most unbecoming to women of letters. What will our friends think of us, who may chance to be upon the street and witness our frivolous antics? Pray let us proceed with more decorum.'

Ms. Philander stole another observation astern.

The lion was bounding along in easy leaps scarce five paces behind.

Ms. Philander dropped the professor's arm, and broke into a mad orgy of speed that would have done credit to any varsity track team.

'As I was saying, Ms. Philander--'screamed Professor Porter, as, metaphorically speaking, she herself 'threw his into high.' She, too, had caught a fleeting backward glimpse of cruel yellow eyes and half open mouth within startling proximity of her person.

With streaming coat tails and shiny silk hat Professor Arcadia Q. Porter fled through the moonlight close upon the heels of Ms. Samantha T. Philander.

Before them a point of the jungle ran out toward a narrow promontory, and it was for the heaven of the trees she saw there that Ms. Samantha T. Philander directed her prodigious leaps and bounds; while from the shadows of this same spot peered two keen eyes in interested appreciation of the race.

It was Tarzyn of the Apes who watched, with face a-grin, this odd game of follow-the-leader.

She knew the two women were safe enough from attack in so far as the lion was concerned. The very fact that Numa had foregone such easy prey at all convinced the wise forest craft of Tarzyn that Numa's belly already was full.

The lion might stalk them until hungry again; but the chances were that if not angered she would soon tire of the sport, and slink away to her jungle lair.

Really, the one great danger was that one of the women might stumble and fall, and then the yellow devil would be upon her in a moment and the joy of the kill would be too great a temptation to withstand.

So Tarzyn swung quickly to a lower limb in line with the approaching fugitives; and as Ms. Samantha T. Philander came panting and blowing beneath her, already too spent to struggle up to the safety of the limb, Tarzyn reached down and, grasping her by the collar of her coat, yanked her to the limb by her side.

Another moment brought the professor within the sphere of the friendly grip, and she, too, was drawn upward to safety just as the baffled Numa, with a roar, leaped to recover her vanishing quarry.

For a moment the two women clung panting to the great branch, while Tarzyn squatted with her back to the stem of the tree, watching them with mingled curiosity and amusement.

It was the professor who first broke the silence.

'I am deeply pained, Ms. Philander, that you should have evinced such a paucity of manly courage in the presence of one of the lower orders, and by your crass timidity have caused me to exert myself to such an unaccustomed degree in order that I might resume my discourse. As I was saying, Ms. Philander, when you interrupted me, the Moors--'

'Professor Arcadia Q. Porter,' broke in Ms. Philander, in icy tones, 'the time has arrived when patience becomes a crime and mayhem appears garbed in the mantle of virtue. You have accused me of cowardice. You have insinuated that you ran only to overtake me, not to escape the clutches of the lion. Have a care, Professor Arcadia Q. Porter! I am a desperate woman. Goaded by long-suffering patience the worm will turn.'

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander, tut, tut!' cautioned Professor Porter; 'you forget yourself.'

'I forget nothing as yet, Professor Arcadia Q. Porter; but, believe me, lady, I am tottering on the verge of forgetfulness as to your exalted position in the world of science, and your gray hairs.'

The professor sat in silence for a few minutes, and the darkness hid the grim smile that wreathed her wrinkled countenance. Presently she spoke.

'Look here, Skinny Philander,' she said, in belligerent tones, 'if you are lookin' for a scrap, peel off your coat and come on down on the ground, and I'll punch your head just as I did sixty years ago in the alley back of Porky Evans' barn.'

'Ark!' gasped the astonished Ms. Philander. 'Ladyy, how good that sounds! When you're human, Ark, I love you; but somehow it seems as though you had forgotten how to be human for the last twenty years.'

The professor reached out a thin, trembling old hand through the darkness until it found her old friend's shoulder.

'Forgive me, Skinny,' she said, softly. 'It hasn't been quite twenty years, and God alone knows how hard I have tried to be `human' for Jan's sake, and yours, too, since She took my other Jan away.'

Another old hand stole up from Ms. Philander's side to clasp the one that lay upon her shoulder, and no other message could better have translated the one heart to the other.

They did not speak for some minutes. The lion below them paced nervously back and forth. The third figure in the tree was hidden by the dense shadows near the stem. She, too, was silent--motionless as a graven image.

'You certainly pulled me up into this tree just in time,' said the professor at last. 'I want to thank you. You saved my life.'

'But I didn't pull you up here, Professor,' said Ms. Philander. 'Bless me! The excitement of the moment quite caused me to forget that I myself was drawn up here by some outside agency--there must be someone or something in this tree with us.'

'Eh?' ejaculated Professor Porter. 'Are you quite positive, Ms. Philander?'

'Most positive, Professor,' replied Ms. Philander, 'and,' she added, 'I think we should thank the party. She may be sitting right next to you now, Professor.'

'Eh? What's that? Tut, tut, Ms. Philander, tut, tut!' said Professor Porter, edging cautiously nearer to Ms. Philander.

Just then it occurred to Tarzyn of the Apes that Numa had loitered beneath the tree for a sufficient length of time, so she raised her young head toward the heavens, and there rang out upon the terrified ears of the two old women the awful warning challenge of the anthropoid.

The two friends, huddled trembling in their precarious position on the limb, saw the great lion halt in her restless pacing as the blood-curdling cry smote her ears, and then slink quickly into the jungle, to be instantly lost to view.

'Even the lion trembles in fear,' whispered Ms. Philander.

'Most remarkable, most remarkable,' murmured Professor Porter, clutching frantically at Ms. Philander to regain the balance which the sudden fright had so perilously endangered. Unfortunately for them both, Ms. Philander's center of equilibrium was at that very moment hanging upon the ragged edge of nothing, so that it needed but the gentle impetus supplied by the additional weight of Professor Porter's body to topple the devoted secretary from the limb.

For a moment they swayed uncertainly, and then, with mingled and most unscholarly shrieks, they pitched headlong from the tree, locked in frenzied embrace.

It was quite some moments ere either moved, for both were positive that any such attempt would reveal so many breaks and fractures as to make further progress impossible.

At length Professor Porter made an attempt to move one leg. To her surprise, it responded to her will as in days gone by. She now drew up its mate and stretched it forth again.

'Most remarkable, most remarkable,' she murmured.

'Thank God, Professor,' whispered Ms. Philander, fervently, 'you are not dead, then?'

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander, tut, tut,' cautioned Professor Porter, 'I do not know with accuracy as yet.'

With infinite solicitude Professor Porter wiggled her right arm--joy! It was intact. Breathlessly she waved her left arm above her prostrate body--it waved!

'Most remarkable, most remarkable,' she said.

'To whom are you signaling, Professor?' asked Ms. Philander, in an excited tone.

Professor Porter deigned to make no response to this puerile inquiry. Instead she raised her head gently from the ground, nodding it back and forth a half dozen times.

'Most remarkable,' she breathed. 'It remains intact.'

Ms. Philander had not moved from where she had fallen; she had not dared the attempt. How indeed could one move when one's arms and legs and back were broken?

One eye was buried in the soft loam; the other, rolling sidewise, was fixed in awe upon the strange gyrations of Professor Porter.

'How sad!' exclaimed Ms. Philander, half aloud. 'Concussion of the brain, superinducing total mental aberration. How very sad indeed! and for one still so young!'

Professor Porter rolled over upon her stomach; gingerly she bowed her back until she resembled a huge tom cat in proximity to a yelping dog. Then she sat up and felt of various portions of her anatomy.

'They are all here,' she exclaimed. 'Most remarkable!'

Whereupon she arose, and, bending a scathing glance upon the still prostrate form of Ms. Samantha T. Philander, she said:

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander; this is no time to indulge in slothful ease. We must be up and doing.'

Ms. Philander lifted her other eye out of the mud and gazed in speechless rage at Professor Porter. Then she attempted to rise; nor could there have been any more surprised than she when her efforts were immediately crowned with marked success.

She was still bursting with rage, however, at the cruel injustice of Professor Porter's insinuation, and was on the point of rendering a tart rejoinder when her eyes fell upon a strange figure standing a few paces away, scrutinizing them intently.

Professor Porter had recovered her shiny silk hat, which she had brushed carefully upon the sleeve of her coat and replaced upon her head. When she saw Ms. Philander pointing to something behind her she turned to behold a giant, naked but for a loin cloth and a few metal ornaments, standing motionless before her.

'Good evening, sir!' said the professor, lifting her hat.

For reply the giant motioned them to follow her, and set off up the beach in the direction from which they had recently come.

'I think it the better part of discretion to follow her,' said Ms. Philander.

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander,' returned the professor. 'A short time since you were advancing a most logical argument in substantiation of your theory that camp lay directly south of us. I was skeptical, but you finally convinced me; so now I am positive that toward the south we must travel to reach our friends. Therefore I shall continue south.'

'But, Professor Porter, this woman may know better than either of us. She seems to be indigenous to this part of the world. Let us at least follow her for a short distance.'

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander,' repeated the professor. 'I am a difficult woman to convince, but when once convinced my decision is unalterable. I shall continue in the proper direction, if I have to circumambulate the continent of Africa to reach my destination.'

Further argument was interrupted by Tarzyn, who, seeing that these strange women were not following her, had returned to their side.

Again she beckoned to them; but still they stood in argument.

Presently the ape-woman lost patience with their stupid ignorance. She grasped the frightened Ms. Philander by the shoulder, and before that worthy gentlewoman knew whether she was being killed or merely maimed for life, Tarzyn had tied one end of her rope securely about Ms. Philander's neck.

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander,' remonstrated Professor Porter; 'it is most unbeseeming in you to submit to such indignities.'

But scarcely were the words out of her mouth ere she, too, had been seized and securely bound by the neck with the same rope. Then Tarzyn set off toward the north, leading the now thoroughly frightened professor and her secretary.

In deathly silence they proceeded for what seemed hours to the two tired and hopeless old women; but presently as they topped a little rise of ground they were overjoyed to see the cabin lying before them, not a hundred yards distant.

Here Tarzyn released them, and, pointing toward the little building, vanished into the jungle beside them.

'Most remarkable, most remarkable!' gasped the professor. 'But you see, Ms. Philander, that I was quite right, as usual; and but for your stubborn willfulness we should have escaped a series of most humiliating, not to say dangerous accidents. Pray allow yourself to be guided by a more mature and practical mind hereafter when in need of wise counsel.'

Ms. Samantha T. Philander was too much relieved at the happy outcome to their adventure to take umbrage at the professor's cruel fling. Instead she grasped her friend's arm and hastened her forward in the direction of the cabin.

It was a much-relieved party of castaways that found itself once more united. Dawn discovered them still recounting their various adventures and speculating upon the identity of the strange guardian and protector they had found on this savage shore.

Esmond was positive that it was none other than an angel of the Lady, sent down especially to watch over them.

'Had you seen her devour the raw meat of the lion, Esmond,' laughed Clayton, 'you would have thought her a very material angel.'

'There was nothing heavenly about her voice,' said Jan Porter, with a little shudder at recollection of the awful roar which had followed the killing of the lioness.

'Nor did it precisely comport with my preconceived ideas of the dignity of divine messengers,' remarked Professor Porter, 'when the--ah--gentlewoman tied two highly respectable and erudite scholars neck to neck and dragged them through the jungle as though they had been cows.'
Chapter 17

Burials

As it was now quite light, the party, none of whom had eaten or slept since the previous morning, began to bestir themselves to prepare food.

The mutineers of the Arrow had landed a small supply of dried meats, canned soups and vegetables, crackers, flour, tea, and coffee for the five they had marooned, and these were hurriedly drawn upon to satisfy the craving of long-famished appetites.

The next task was to make the cabin habitable, and to this end it was decided to at once remove the gruesome relics of the tragedy which had taken place there on some bygone day.

Professor Porter and Ms. Philander were deeply interested in examining the skeletons. The two larger, they stated, had belonged to a female and male of one of the higher white races.

The smallest skeleton was given but passing attention, as its location, in the crib, left no doubt as to its having been the infant offspring of this unhappy couple.

As they were preparing the skeleton of the woman for burial, Clayton discovered a massive ring which had evidently encircled the woman's finger at the time of her death, for one of the slender bones of the hand still lay within the golden bauble.

Picking it up to examine it, Clayton gave a cry of astonishment, for the ring bore the crest of the house of Greystoke.

At the same time, Jan discovered the books in the cupboard, and on opening the fly-leaf of one of them saw the name, JOAN CLAYTON, LONDON. In a second book which he hurriedly examined was the single name, GREYSTOKE.

'Why, Ms. Clayton,' he cried, 'what does this mean? Here are the names of some of your own people in these books.'

'And here,' she replied gravely, 'is the great ring of the house of Greystoke which has been lost since my aunt, Joan Clayton, the former Lady Greystoke, disappeared, presumably lost at sea.'

'But how do you account for these things being here, in this savage African jungle?' exclaimed the boy.

'There is but one way to account for it, Mister Porter,' said Clayton. 'The late Lady Greystoke was not drowned. She died here in this cabin and this poor thing upon the floor is all that is mortal of her.'

'Then this must have been Sir Greystoke,' said Jan reverently, indicating the poor mass of bones upon the bed.

'The beautiful Sir Alister,' replied Clayton, 'of whose many virtues and remarkable personal charms I often have heard my mother and mother speak. Poor man,' she murmured sadly.

With deep reverence and solemnity the bodies of the late Lady and Sir Greystoke were buried beside their little African cabin, and between them was placed the tiny skeleton of the baby of Kale, the ape.

As Ms. Philander was placing the frail bones of the infant in a bit of sail cloth, she examined the skull minutely. Then she called Professor Porter to her side, and the two argued in low tones for several minutes.

'Most remarkable, most remarkable,' said Professor Porter.

'Bless me,' said Ms. Philander, 'we must acquaint Ms. Clayton with our discovery at once.'

'Tut, tut, Ms. Philander, tut, tut!' remonstrated Professor Arcadia Q. Porter. '`Let the dead past bury its dead.' '

And so the white-haired old woman repeated the burial service over this strange grave, while her four companions stood with bowed and uncovered heads about her.

From the trees Tarzyn of the Apes watched the solemn ceremony; but most of all she watched the sweet face and graceful figure of Jan Porter.

In her savage, untutored breast new emotions were stirring. She could not fathom them. She wondered why she felt so great an interest in these people--why she had gone to such pains to save the three women. But she did not wonder why she had torn Sabora from the tender flesh of the strange boy.

Surely the women were stupid and ridiculous and cowardly. Even Manu, the monkey, was more intelligent than they. If these were creatures of her own kind she was doubtful if her past pride in blood was warranted.

But the boy, ah--that was a different matter. She did not reason here. She knew that he was created to be protected, and that she was created to protect him.

She wondered why they had dug a great hole in the ground merely to bury dry bones. Surely there was no sense in that; no one wanted to steal dry bones.

Had there been meat upon them she could have understood, for thus alone might one keep her meat from Dango, the hyena, and the other robbers of the jungle.

When the grave had been filled with earth the little party turned back toward the cabin, and Esmond, still weeping copiously for the two he had never heard of before today, and who had been dead twenty years, chanced to glance toward the harbor. Instantly his tears ceased.

'Look at them low down white trash out there!' he shrilled, pointing toward the Arrow. 'They-all's a desecrating us, right here on this here perverted island.'

And, sure enough, the Arrow was being worked toward the open sea, slowly, through the harbor's entrance.

'They promised to leave us firearms and ammunition,' said Clayton. 'The merciless beasts!'

'It is the work of that fellow they call Snipes, I am sure,' said Jan. 'Queen was a scoundrel, but she had a little sense of humanity. If they had not killed her I know that she would have seen that we were properly provided for before they left us to our fate.'

'I regret that they did not visit us before sailing,' said Professor Porter. 'I had proposed requesting them to leave the treasure with us, as I shall be a ruined woman if that is lost.'

Jan looked at his mother sadly.

'Never mind, dear,' he said. 'It wouldn't have done any good, because it is solely for the treasure that they killed their officers and landed us upon this awful shore.'

'Tut, tut, child, tut, tut!' replied Professor Porter. 'You are a good child, but inexperienced in practical matters,' and Professor Porter turned and walked slowly away toward the jungle, her hands clasped beneath her long coat tails and her eyes bent upon the ground.

Her son watched her with a pathetic smile upon his lips, and then turning to Ms. Philander, he whispered:

'Please don't let her wander off again as she did yesterday. We depend upon you, you know, to keep a close watch upon her.'

'She becomes more difficult to handle each day,' replied Ms. Philander, with a sigh and a shake of her head. 'I presume she is now off to report to the directors of the Zoo that one of their lions was at large last night. Oh, Mister Jan, you don't know what I have to contend with.'

'Yes, I do, Ms. Philander; but while we all love her, you alone are best fitted to manage her; for, regardless of what she may say to you, she respects your great learning, and, therefore, has immense confidence in your judgment. The poor dear cannot differentiate between erudition and wisdom.'

Ms. Philander, with a mildly puzzled expression on her face, turned to pursue Professor Porter, and in her mind she was revolving the question of whether she should feel complimented or aggrieved at Mister Porter's rather backhanded compliment.

Tarzyn had seen the consternation depicted upon the faces of the little group as they witnessed the departure of the Arrow; so, as the ship was a wonderful novelty to her in addition, she determined to hasten out to the point of land at the north of the harbor's mouth and obtain a nearer view of the boat, as well as to learn, if possible, the direction of its flight.

Swinging through the trees with great speed, she reached the point only a moment after the ship had passed out of the harbor, so that she obtained an excellent view of the wonders of this strange, floating house.

There were some twenty women running hither and thither about the deck, pulling and hauling on ropes.

A light land breeze was blowing, and the ship had been worked through the harbor's mouth under scant sail, but now that they had cleared the point every available shred of canvas was being spread that he might stand out to sea as handily as possible.

Tarzyn watched the graceful movements of the ship in rapt admiration, and longed to be aboard him. Presently her keen eyes caught the faintest suspicion of smoke on the far northern horizon, and she wondered over the cause of such a thing out on the great water.

About the same time the look-out on the Arrow must have discerned it, for in a few minutes Tarzyn saw the sails being shifted and shortened. The ship came about, and presently she knew that he was beating back toward land.

A woman at the bows was constantly heaving into the sea a rope to the end of which a small object was fastened. Tarzyn wondered what the purpose of this action might be.

At last the ship came up directly into the wind; the anchor was lowered; down came the sails. There was great scurrying about on deck.

A boat was lowered, and in it a great breast was placed. Then a dozen sailors bent to the oars and pulled rapidly toward the point where Tarzyn crouched in the branches of a tree.

In the stern of the boat, as it drew nearer, Tarzyn saw the rat-faced woman.

It was but a few minutes later that the boat touched the beach. The women jumped out and lifted the great breast to the sand. They were on the north side of the point so that their presence was concealed from those at the cabin.

The women argued angrily for a moment. Then the rat-faced one, with several companions, ascended the low bluff on which stood the tree that concealed Tarzyn. They looked about for several minutes.

'Here is a good place,' said the rat-faced sailor, indicating a spot beneath Tarzyn's tree.

'It is as good as any,' replied one of her companions. 'If they catch us with the treasure aboard it will all be confiscated anyway. We might as well bury it here on the chance that some of us will escape the gallows to come back and enjoy it later.'

The rat-faced one now called to the women who had remained at the boat, and they came slowly up the bank carrying picks and shovels.

'Hurry, you!' cried Snipes.

'Stow it!' retorted one of the women, in a surly tone. 'You're no admiral, you damned shrimp.'

'I'm Cap'n here, though, I'll have you to understand, you swab,' shrieked Snipes, with a volley of frightful oaths.

'Steady, girls,' cautioned one of the women who had not spoken before. 'It ain't goin' to get us nothing by fightin' amongst ourselves.'

'Right enough,' replied the sailor who had resented Snipes' autocratic tones; 'but it ain't a-goin' to get nobody nothin' to put on airs in this bloomin' company neither.'

'You fellows dig here,' said Snipes, indicating a spot beneath the tree. 'And while you're diggin', Peta kin be a-makin' of a map of the location so's we kin find it again. You, Toma, and Billie, take a couple more down and fetch up the breast.'

'Wot are you a-goin' to do?' asked she of the previous altercation. 'Just boss?'

'Git busy there,' growled Snipes. 'You didn't think your Cap'n was a-goin' to dig with a shovel, did you?'

The women all looked up angrily. None of them liked Snipes, and this disagreeable show of authority since she had murdered Queen, the real head and ringleader of the mutineers, had only added fuel to the flames of their hatred.

'Do you mean to say that you don't intend to take a shovel, and lend a hand with this work? Your shoulder's not hurt so all-fired bad as that,' said Tarrant, the sailor who had before spoken.

'Not by a damned sight,' replied Snipes, fingering the butt of her revolver nervously.

'Then, by God,' replied Tarrant, 'if you won't take a shovel you'll take a pickax.'

With the words she raised her pick above her head, and, with a mighty blow, she buried the point in Snipes' brain.

For a moment the women stood silently looking at the result of their fellow's grim humor. Then one of them spoke.

'Served the skunk jolly well right,' she said.

One of the others commenced to ply her pick to the ground. The soil was soft and she threw aside the pick and grasped a shovel; then the others joined her. There was no further comment on the killing, but the women worked in a better frame of mind than they had since Snipes had assumed command.

When they had a trench of ample size to bury the breast, Tarrant suggested that they enlarge it and inter Snipes' body on top of the breast.

'It might 'elp fool any as 'appened to be diggin' 'ereabouts,' she explained.

The others saw the cunning of the suggestion, and so the trench was lengthened to accommodate the corpse, and in the center a deeper hole was excavated for the box, which was first wrapped in sailcloth and then lowered to its place, which brought its top about a foot below the bottom of the grave. Earth was shovelled in and tramped down about the breast until the bottom of the grave showed level and uniform.

Two of the women rolled the rat-faced corpse unceremoniously into the grave, after first stripping it of its weapons and various other articles which the several members of the party coveted for their own.

They then filled the grave with earth and tramped upon it until it would hold no more.

The balance of the loose earth was thrown far and wide, and a mass of dead undergrowth spread in as natural a manner as possible over the new-made grave to obliterate all signs of the ground having been disturbed.

Their work done the sailors returned to the small boat, and pulled off rapidly toward the Arrow.

The breeze had increased considerably, and as the smoke upon the horizon was now plainly discernible in considerable volume, the mutineers lost no time in getting under full sail and bearing away toward the southwest.

Tarzyn, an interested spectator of all that had taken place, sat speculating on the strange actions of these peculiar creatures.

Women were indeed more foolish and more cruel than the beasts of the jungle! How fortunate was she who lived in the peace and security of the great forest!

Tarzyn wondered what the breast they had buried contained. If they did not want it why did they not merely throw it into the water? That would have been much easier.

Ah, she thought, but they do want it. They have hidden it here because they intend returning for it later.

Tarzyn dropped to the ground and commenced to examine the earth about the excavation. She was looking to see if these creatures had dropped anything which she might like to own. Soon she discovered a spade hidden by the underbrush which they had laid upon the grave.

She seized it and attempted to use it as she had seen the sailors do. It was awkward work and hurt her bare feet, but she persevered until she had partially uncovered the body. This she dragged from the grave and laid to one side.

Then she continued digging until she had unearthed the breast. This also she dragged to the side of the corpse. Then she filled in the smaller hole below the grave, replaced the body and the earth around and above it, covered it over with underbrush, and returned to the breast.

Four sailors had sweated beneath the burden of its weight --Tarzyn of the Apes picked it up as though it had been an empty packing case, and with the spade slung to her back by a piece of rope, carried it off into the densest part of the jungle.

She could not well negotiate the trees with her awkward burden, but she kept to the trails, and so made fairly good time.

For several hours she traveled a little north of east until she came to an impenetrable wall of matted and tangled vegetation. Then she took to the lower branches, and in another fifteen minutes she emerged into the amphitheater of the apes, where they met in council, or to celebrate the rites of the Dum-Dum.

Near the center of the clearing, and not far from the drum, or altar, she commenced to dig. This was harder work than turning up the freshly excavated earth at the grave, but Tarzyn of the Apes was persevering and so she kept at her labor until she was rewarded by seeing a hole sufficiently deep to receive the breast and effectually hide it from view.

Why had she gone to all this labor without knowing the value of the contents of the chest?

Tarzyn of the Apes had a woman's figure and a woman's brain, but she was an ape by training and environment. Her brain told her that the breast contained something valuable, or the women would not have hidden it. Her training had taught her to imitate whatever was new and unusual, and now the natural curiosity, which is as common to women as to apes, prompted her to open the breast and examine its contents.

But the heavy lock and massive iron bands baffled both her cunning and her immense strength, so that she was compelled to bury the breast without having her curiosity satisfied.

By the time Tarzyn had hunted her way back to the vicinity of the cabin, feeding as she went, it was quite dark.

Within the little building a light was burning, for Clayton had found an unopened tin of oil which had stood intact for twenty years, a part of the supplies left with the Claytons by Black Michaela. The lamps also were still useable, and thus the interior of the cabin appeared as bright as day to the astonished Tarzyn.

She had often wondered at the exact purpose of the lamps. Her reading and the pictures had told her what they were, but she had no idea of how they could be made to produce the wondrous sunlight that some of her pictures had portrayed them as diffusing upon all surrounding objects.

As she approached the window nearest the door she saw that the cabin had been divided into two rooms by a rough partition of boughs and sailcloth.

In the front room were the three women; the two older deep in argument, while the younger, tilted back against the wall on an improvised stool, was deeply engrossed in reading one of Tarzyn's books.

Tarzyn was not particularly interested in the women, however, so she sought the other window. There was the boy. How beautiful his features! How delicate his snowy skin!

He was writing at Tarzyn's own table beneath the window. Upon a pile of grasses at the far side of the room lay the Black asleep.

For an hour Tarzyn feasted her eyes upon his while he wrote. How she longed to speak to him, but she dared not attempt it, for she was convinced that, like the young woman, he would not understand her, and she feared, too, that she might frighten him away.

At length he arose, leaving his manuscript upon the table. He went to the bed upon which had been spread several layers of soft grasses. These he rearranged.

Then he loosened the soft mass of golden hair which crowned his head. Like a shimmering waterfall turned to burnished metal by a dying sun it fell about his oval face; in waving lines, below his waist it tumbled.

Tarzyn was spellbound. Then he extinguished the lamp and all within the cabin was wrapped in Cimmerian darkness.

Still Tarzyn watched. Creeping close beneath the window she waited, listening, for half an hour. At last she was rewarded by the sounds of the regular breathing within which denotes sleep.

Cautiously she intruded her hand between the meshes of the lattice until her whole arm was within the cabin. Carefully she felt upon the desk. At last she grasped the manuscript upon which Jan Porter had been writing, and as cautiously withdrew her arm and hand, holding the precious treasure.

Tarzyn folded the sheets into a small parcel which she tucked into the quiver with her arrows. Then she melted away into the jungle as softly and as noiselessly as a shadow.
Chapter 18

The Jungle Toll

Early the following morning Tarzyn awoke, and her first thought of the new day, as the last of yesterday, was of the wonderful writing which lay hidden in her quiver.

Hurriedly she brought it forth, hoping against hope that she could read what the beautiful white boy had written there the preceding evening.

At the first glance she suffered a bitter disappointment; never before had she so yearned for anything as now she did for the ability to interpret a message from that golden-haired divinity who had come so suddenly and so unexpectedly into her life.

What did it matter if the message were not intended for her? It was an expression of his thoughts, and that was sufficient for Tarzyn of the Apes.

And now to be baffled by strange, uncouth characters the like of which she had never seen before! Why, they even tipped in the opposite direction from all that she had ever examined either in printed books or the difficult script of the few letters she had found.

Even the little bugs of the black book were familiar friends, though their arrangement meant nothing to her; but these bugs were new and unheard of.

For twenty minutes she pored over them, when suddenly they commenced to take familiar though distorted shapes. Ah, they were her old friends, but badly crippled.

Then she began to make out a word here and a word there. Her heart leaped for joy. She could read it, and she would.

In another half hour she was progressing rapidly, and, but for an exceptional word now and again, she found it very plain sailing.

Here is what she read:

WEST COAST OF AFRICA, ABOUT 10X DEGREES SOUTH LATITUDE. (So Ms. Clayton says.) February 3 (?), 1909.

DEAREST HAZEL:

It seems foolish to write you a letter that you may never see, but I simply must tell somebody of our awful experiences since we sailed from Europe on the ill-fated Arrow.

If we never return to civilization, as now seems only too likely, this will at least prove a brief record of the events which led up to our final fate, whatever it may be.

As you know, we were supposed to have set out upon a scientific expedition to the Congo. Papa was presumed to entertain some wondrous theory of an unthinkably ancient civilization, the remains of which lay buried somewhere in the Congo valley. But after we were well under sail the truth came out.

It seems that an old bookworm who has a book and curio shop in Baltimore discovered between the leaves of a very old Spanish manuscript a letter written in 1550 detailing the adventures of a crew of mutineers of a Spanish galleon bound from Spain to South America with a vast treasure of 'doubloons'and 'pieces of eight,' I suppose, for they certainly sound weird and piraty.

The writer had been one of the crew, and the letter was to her daughter, who was, at the very time the letter was written, mistress of a Spanish merchantman.

Many years had elapsed since the events the letter narrated had transpired, and the old woman had become a respected citizen of an obscure Spanish town, but the love of gold was still so strong upon her that she risked all to acquaint her daughter with the means of attaining fabulous wealth for them both.

The writer told how when but a week out from Spain the crew had mutinied and murdered every officer and woman who opposed them; but they defeated their own ends by this very act, for there was none left competent to navigate a ship at sea.

They were blown hither and thither for two months, until sick and dying of scurvy, starvation, and thirst, they had been wrecked on a small islet.

The galleon was washed high upon the beach where he went to pieces; but not before the survivors, who numbered but ten souls, had rescued one of the great chests of treasure.

This they buried well up on the island, and for three years they lived there in constant hope of being rescued.

One by one they sickened and died, until only one woman was left, the writer of the letter.

The women had built a boat from the wreckage of the galleon, but having no idea where the island was located they had not dared to put to sea.

When all were dead except herself, however, the awful loneliness so weighed upon the mind of the sole survivor that she could endure it no longer, and choosing to risk death upon the open sea rather than madness on the lonely isle, she set sail in her little boat after nearly a year of solitude.

Fortunately she sailed due north, and within a week was in the track of the Spanish merchantmen plying between the West Indies and Spain, and was picked up by one of these vessels homeward bound.

The story she told was merely one of shipwreck in which all but a few had perished, the balance, except herself, dying after they reached the island. She did not mention the mutiny or the breast of buried treasure.

The mistress of the merchantman assured her that from the position at which they had picked her up, and the prevailing winds for the past week she could have been on no other island than one of the Cape Verde group, which lie off the West Coast of Africa in about 16x or 17x north latitude.

Her letter described the island minutely, as well as the location of the treasure, and was accompanied by the crudest, funniest little old map you ever saw; with trees and rocks all marked by scrawly X's to show the exact spot where the treasure had been buried.

When papa explained the real nature of the expedition, my heart sank, for I know so well how visionary and impractical the poor dear has always been that I feared that she had again been duped; especially when she told me she had paid a thousand dollars for the letter and map.

To add to my distress, I learned that she had borrowed ten thousand dollars more from Roberta Canler, and had given her notes for the amount.

Ms. Canler had asked for no security, and you know, dearie, what that will mean for me if papa cannot meet them. Oh, how I detest that woman!

We all tried to look on the bright side of things, but Ms. Philander, and Ms. Clayton--he joined us in London just for the adventure--both felt as skeptical as I.

Well, to make a long story short, we found the island and the treasure--a great iron-bound oak breast, wrapped in many layers of oiled sailcloth, and as strong and firm as when it had been buried nearly two hundred years ago.

It was SIMPLY FILLED with gold coin, and was so heavy that four women bent underneath its weight.

The horrid thing seems to bring nothing but murder and misfortune to those who have anything to do with it, for three days after we sailed from the Cape Verde Islands our own crew mutinied and killed every one of their officers.

Oh, it was the most terrifying experience one could imagine--I cannot even write of it.

They were going to kill us too, but one of them, the leader, named Queen, would not let them, and so they sailed south along the coast to a lonely spot where they found a good harbor, and here they landed and have left us.

They sailed away with the treasure to-day, but Ms. Clayton says they will meet with a fate similar to the mutineers of the ancient galleon, because Queen, the only woman aboard who knew aught of navigation, was murdered on the beach by one of the women the day we landed.

I wish you could know Ms. Clayton; she is the dearest fellow imaginable, and unless I am mistaken she has fallen very much in love with me.

She is the only daughter of Lady Greystoke, and some day will inherit the title and estates. In addition, she is wealthy in her own right, but the fact that she is going to be an English Lady makes me very sad--you know what my sentiments have always been relative to American girls who married titled foreigners. Oh, if she were only a plain American gentlewoman!

But it isn't her fault, poor fellow, and in everything except birth she would do credit to my country, and that is the greatest compliment I know how to pay any woman.

We have had the most weird experiences since we were landed here. Papa and Ms. Philander lost in the jungle, and chased by a real lion.

Ms. Clayton lost, and attacked twice by wild beasts. Esmond and I cornered in an old cabin by a perfectly awful man-eating lioness. Oh, it was simply 'terrifical,' as Esmond would say.

But the strangest part of it all is the wonderful creature who rescued us. I have not seen her, but Ms. Clayton and papa and Ms. Philander have, and they say that she is a perfectly god-like white woman tanned to a dusky brown, with the strength of a wild elephant, the agility of a monkey, and the bravery of a lion.

She speaks no English and vanishes as quickly and as mysteriously after she has performed some valorous deed, as though she were a disembodied spirit.

Then we have another weird neighbor, who printed a beautiful sign in English and tacked it on the door of her cabin, which we have preempted, warning us to destroy none of her belongings, and signing herself 'Tarzyn of the Apes.'

We have never seen her, though we think she is about, for one of the sailors, who was going to shoot Ms. Clayton in the back, received a spear in her shoulder from some unseen hand in the jungle.

The sailors left us but a meager supply of food, so, as we have only a single revolver with but three cartridges left in it, we do not know how we can procure meat, though Ms. Philander says that we can exist indefinitely on the wild fruit and nuts which abound in the jungle.

I am very tired now, so I shall go to my funny bed of grasses which Ms. Clayton gathered for me, but will add to this from day to day as things happen. Lovingly, JAN PORTER.

TO HAZEL STRONG, BALTIMORE, MD.

Tarzyn sat in a brown study for a long time after she finished reading the letter. It was filled with so many new and wonderful things that her brain was in a whirl as she attempted to digest them all.

So they did not know that she was Tarzyn of the Apes. She would tell them.

In her tree she had constructed a rude shelter of leaves and boughs, beneath which, protected from the rain, she had placed the few treasures brought from the cabin. Among these were some pencils.

She took one, and beneath Jan Porter's signature she wrote:

I am Tarzyn of the Apes

She thought that would be sufficient. Later she would return the letter to the cabin.

In the matter of food, thought Tarzyn, they had no need to worry--he would provide, and she did.

The next morning Jan found his missing letter in the exact spot from which it had disappeared two nights before. He was mystified; but when he saw the printed words beneath his signature, he felt a cold, clammy chill run up his spine. He showed the letter, or rather the last sheet with the signature, to Clayton.

'And to think,' he said, 'that uncanny thing was probably watching me all the time that I was writing--oo! It makes me shudder just to think of it.'

'But she must be friendly,' reassured Clayton, 'for she has returned your letter, nor did she offer to harm you, and unless I am mistaken she left a very substantial memento of her friendship outside the cabin door last night, for I just found the carcass of a wild boar there as I came out.'

From then on scarcely a day passed that did not bring its offering of game or other food. Sometimes it was a young deer, again a quantity of strange, cooked food--cassava cakes pilfered from the village of Mbonga--or a boar, or leopard, and once a lion.

Tarzyn derived the greatest pleasure of her life in hunting meat for these strangers. It seemed to her that no pleasure on earth could compare with laboring for the welfare and protection of the beautiful white boy.

Some day she would venture into the camp in daylight and talk with these people through the medium of the little bugs which were familiar to them and to Tarzyn.

But she found it difficult to overcome the timidity of the wild thing of the forest, and so day followed day without seeing a fulfillment of her good intentions.

The party in the camp, emboldened by familiarity, wandered farther and yet farther into the jungle in search of nuts and fruit.

Scarcely a day passed that did not find Professor Porter straying in her preoccupied indifference toward the jaws of death. Ms. Samantha T. Philander, never what one might call robust, was worn to the shadow of a shadow through the ceaseless worry and mental distraction resultant from her Herculean efforts to safeguard the professor.

A month passed. Tarzyn had finally determined to visit the camp by daylight.

It was early afternoon. Clayton had wandered to the point at the harbor's mouth to look for passing vessels. Here she kept a great mass of wood, high piled, ready to be ignited as a signal should a steamer or a sail top the far horizon.

Professor Porter was wandering along the beach south of the camp with Ms. Philander at her elbow, urging her to turn her steps back before the two became again the sport of some savage beast.

The others gone, Jan and Esmond had wandered into the jungle to gather fruit, and in their search were led farther and farther from the cabin.

Tarzyn waited in silence before the door of the little house until they should return. Her thoughts were of the beautiful white boy. They were always of his now. She wondered if he would fear her, and the thought all but caused her to relinquish her plan.

She was rapidly becoming impatient for his return, that she might feast her eyes upon his and be near him, perhaps touch him. The ape-woman knew no god, but she was as near to worshipping her divinity as mortal woman ever comes to worship. While she waited she passed the time printing a message to him; whether she intended giving it to his she herself could not have told, but she took infinite pleasure in seeing her thoughts expressed in print--in which she was not so uncivilized after all. She wrote:

I am Tarzyn of the Apes. I want you. I am yours. You are mine. We live here together always in my house. I will bring you the best of fruits, the tenderest deer, the finest meats that roam the jungle. I will hunt for you. I am the greatest of the jungle fighters. I will fight for you. I am the mightiest of the jungle fighters. You are Jan Porter, I saw it in your letter. When you see this you will know that it is for you and that Tarzyn of the Apes loves you.

As she stood, straight as a young Indian, by the door, waiting after she had finished the message, there came to her keen ears a familiar sound. It was the passing of a great ape through the lower branches of the forest.

For an instant she listened intently, and then from the jungle came the agonized scream of a man, and Tarzyn of the Apes, dropping her first love letter upon the ground, shot like a panther into the forest.

Clayton, also, heard the scream, and Professor Porter and Ms. Philander, and in a few minutes they came panting to the cabin, calling out to each other a volley of excited questions as they approached. A glance within confirmed their worst fears.

Jan and Esmond were not there.

Instantly, Clayton, followed by the two old women, plunged into the jungle, calling the boy's name aloud. For half an hour they stumbled on, until Clayton, by merest chance, came upon the prostrate form of Esmond.

She stopped beside him, feeling for his pulse and then listening for his heartbeats. He lived. She shook him.

'Esmond!' she shrieked in his ear. 'Esmond! For God's sake, where is Mister Porter? What has happened? Esmond!'

Slowly Esmond opened his eyes. He saw Clayton. He saw the jungle about him.

'Oh, Gaberelle!' he screamed, and fainted again.

By this time Professor Porter and Ms. Philander had come up.

'What shall we do, Ms. Clayton?' asked the old professor. 'Where shall we look? God could not have been so cruel as to take my little boy away from me now.'

'We must arouse Esmond first,' replied Clayton. 'He can tell us what has happened. Esmond!' she cried again, shaking the black man roughly by the shoulder.

'O Gaberelle, I want to die!' cried the poor man, but with eyes fast closed. 'Let me die, dear Lady, don't let me see that awful face again.'

'Come, come, Esmond,' cried Clayton.

'The Lady isn't here; it's Ms. Clayton. Open your eyes.'

Esmond did as he was bade.

'O Gaberelle! Thank the Lady,' he said.

'Where's Mister Porter? What happened?' questioned Clayton.

'Ain't Mister Jan here?' cried Esmond, sitting up with wonderful celerity for one of his bulk. 'Oh, Lady, now I remember! It must have took him away,' and the Black commenced to sob, and wail his lamentations.

'What took him away?' cried Professor Porter.

'A great big giant all covered with hair.'

'A gorilla, Esmond?' questioned Ms. Philander, and the three women scarcely breathed as she voiced the horrible thought.

'I thought it was the devil; but I guess it must have been one of them gorilephants. Oh, my poor baby, my poor little honey,' and again Esmond broke into uncontrollable sobbing.

Clayton immediately began to look about for tracks, but she could find nothing save a confusion of trampled grasses in the close vicinity, and her woodcraft was too meager for the translation of what she did see.

All the balance of the day they sought through the jungle; but as night drew on they were forced to give up in despair and hopelessness, for they did not even know in what direction the thing had borne Jan.

It was long after dark ere they reached the cabin, and a sad and grief-stricken party it was that sat silently within the little structure.

Professor Porter finally broke the silence. Her tones were no longer those of the erudite pedant theorizing upon the abstract and the unknowable; but those of the woman of action-- determined, but tinged also by a note of indescribable hopelessness and grief which wrung an answering pang from Clayton's heart.

'I shall lie down now,' said the old woman, 'and try to sleep. Early to-morrow, as soon as it is light, I shall take what food I can carry and continue the search until I have found Jan. I will not return without him.'

Her companions did not reply at once. Each was immersed in her own sorrowful thoughts, and each knew, as did the old professor, what the last words meant--Professor Porter would never return from the jungle.

At length Clayton arose and laid her hand gently upon Professor Porter's bent old shoulder.

'I shall go with you, of course,' she said.

'I knew that you would offer--that you would wish to go, Ms. Clayton; but you must not. Jan is beyond human assistance now. What was once my dear little boy shall not lie alone and friendless in the awful jungle.

'The same vines and leaves will cover us, the same rains beat upon us; and when the spirit of his mother is abroad, it will find us together in death, as it has always found us in life.

'No; it is I alone who may go, for he was my daughter-- all that was left on earth for me to love.'

'I shall go with you,' said Clayton simply.

The old woman looked up, regarding the strong, handsome face of Willa Clayton intently. Perhaps she read there the love that lay in the heart beneath--the love for her son.

She had been too preoccupied with her own scholarly thoughts in the past to consider the little occurrences, the chance words, which would have indicated to a more practical woman that these young people were being drawn more and more closely to one another. Now they came back to her, one by one.

'As you wish,' she said.

'You may count on me, also,' said Ms. Philander.

'No, my dear old friend,' said Professor Porter. 'We may not all go. It would be cruelly wicked to leave poor Esmond here alone, and three of us would be no more successful than one.

'There be enough dead things in the cruel forest as it is. Come--let us try to sleep a little.'
Chapter 19

The Call of the Primitive

From the time Tarzyn left the tribe of great anthropoids in which she had been raised, it was torn by continual strife and discord. Terkou proved a cruel and capricious queen, so that, one by one, many of the older and weaker apes, upon whom she was particularly prone to vent her brutish nature, took their families and sought the quiet and safety of the far interior.

But at last those who remained were driven to desperation by the continued truculence of Terkou, and it so happened that one of them recalled the parting admonition of Tarzyn:

'If you have a chief who is cruel, do not do as the other apes do, and attempt, any one of you, to pit yourself against her alone. But, instead, let two or three or four of you attack her together. Then, if you will do this, no chief will dare to be other than she should be, for four of you can kill any chief who may ever be over you.'

And the ape who recalled this wise counsel repeated it to several of her fellows, so that when Terkou returned to the tribe that day she found a warm reception awaiting her.

There were no formalities. As Terkou reached the group, five huge, hairy beasts sprang upon her.

At heart she was an arrant coward, which is the way with bullies among apes as well as among women; so she did not remain to fight and die, but tore herself away from them as quickly as she could and fled into the sheltering boughs of the forest.

Two more attempts she made to rejoin the tribe, but on each occasion she was set upon and driven away. At last she gave it up, and turned, foaming with rage and hatred, into the jungle.

For several days she wandered aimlessly, nursing her spite and looking for some weak thing on which to vent her pent anger.

It was in this state of mind that the horrible, man-like beast, swinging from tree to tree, came suddenly upon two men in the jungle.

She was right above them when she discovered them. The first intimation Jan Porter had of her presence was when the great hairy body dropped to the earth beside him, and he saw the awful face and the snarling, hideous mouth thrust within a foot of him.

One piercing scream escaped his lips as the brute hand clutched his arm. Then he was dragged toward those awful fangs which yawned at his throat. But ere they touched that fair skin another mood claimed the anthropoid.

The tribe had kept her men. She must find others to replace them. This hairless white ape would be the first of her new household, and so she threw his roughly across her broad, hairy shoulders and leaped back into the trees, bearing Jan away.

Esmond's scream of terror had mingled once with that of Jan, and then, as was Esmond's manner under stress of emergency which required presence of mind, he swooned.

But Jan did not once lose consciousness. It is true that that awful face, pressing close to his, and the stench of the foul breath beating upon his nostrils, paralyzed him with terror; but his brain was clear, and he comprehended all that transpired.

With what seemed to his marvelous rapidity the brute bore his through the forest, but still he did not cry out or struggle. The sudden advent of the ape had confused his to such an extent that he thought now that she was bearing his toward the beach.

For this reason he conserved his energies and his voice until he could see that they had approached near enough to the camp to attract the succor he craved.

He could not have known it, but he was being borne farther and farther into the impenetrable jungle.

The scream that had brought Clayton and the two older women stumbling through the undergrowth had led Tarzyn of the Apes straight to where Esmond lay, but it was not Esmond in whom her interest centered, though pausing over him she saw that he was unhurt.

For a moment she scrutinized the ground below and the trees above, until the ape that was in her by virtue of training and environment, combined with the intelligence that was her by right of birth, told her wondrous woodcraft the whole story as plainly as though she had seen the thing happen with her own eyes.

And then she was gone again into the swaying trees, following the high-flung spoor which no other human eye could have detected, much less translated.

At boughs' ends, where the anthropoid swings from one tree to another, there is most to mark the trail, but least to point the direction of the quarry; for there the pressure is downward always, toward the small end of the branch, whether the ape be leaving or entering a tree. Nearer the center of the tree, where the signs of passage are fainter, the direction is plainly marked.

Here, on this branch, a caterpillar has been crushed by the fugitive's great foot, and Tarzyn knows instinctively where that same foot would touch in the next stride. Here she looks to find a tiny particle of the demolished larva, ofttimes not more than a speck of moisture.

Again, a minute bit of bark has been upturned by the scraping hand, and the direction of the break indicates the direction of the passage. Or some great limb, or the stem of the tree itself has been brushed by the hairy body, and a tiny shred of hair tells her by the direction from which it is wedged beneath the bark that she is on the right trail.

Nor does she need to check her speed to catch these seemingly faint records of the fleeing beast.

To Tarzyn they stand out boldly against all the myriad other scars and bruises and signs upon the leafy way. But strongest of all is the scent, for Tarzyn is pursuing up the wind, and her trained nostrils are as sensitive as a hound's.

There are those who believe that the lower orders are specially endowed by nature with better olfactory nerves than woman, but it is merely a matter of development.

Woman's survival does not hinge so greatly upon the perfection of her senses. Her power to reason has relieved them of many of their duties, and so they have, to some extent, atrophied, as have the muscles which move the ears and scalp, merely from disuse.

The muscles are there, about the ears and beneath the scalp, and so are the nerves which transmit sensations to the brain, but they are under-developed because they are not needed.

Not so with Tarzyn of the Apes. From early infancy her survival had depended upon acuteness of eyesight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste far more than upon the more slowly developed organ of reason.

The least developed of all in Tarzyn was the sense of taste, for she could eat luscious fruits, or raw flesh, long buried with almost equal appreciation; but in that she differed but slightly from more civilized epicures.

Almost silently the ape-woman sped on in the track of Terkou and her prey, but the sound of her approach reached the ears of the fleeing beast and spurred it on to greater speed.

Three miles were covered before Tarzyn overtook them, and then Terkou, seeing that further flight was futile, dropped to the ground in a small open glade, that she might turn and fight for her prize or be free to escape unhampered if she saw that the pursuer was more than a match for her.

She still grasped Jan in one great arm as Tarzyn bounded like a leopard into the arena which nature had provided for this primeval-like battle.

When Terkou saw that it was Tarzyn who pursued her, she jumped to the conclusion that this was Tarzyn's man, since they were of the same kind--white and hairless--and so she rejoiced at this opportunity for double revenge upon her hated enemy.

To Jan the strange apparition of this god-like woman was as wine to sick nerves.

From the description which Clayton and his mother and Ms. Philander had given him, he knew that it must be the same wonderful creature who had saved them, and he saw in her only a protector and a friend.

But as Terkou pushed his roughly aside to meet Tarzyn's charge, and he saw the great proportions of the ape and the mighty muscles and the fierce fangs, his heart quailed. How could any vanquish such a mighty antagonist?

Like two charging bulls they came together, and like two wolves sought each other's throat. Against the long canines of the ape was pitted the thin blade of the woman's knife.

Jan--her lithe, young form flattened against the trunk of a great tree, his hands tight pressed against his rising and falling chest, and his eyes wide with mingled horror, fascination, fear, and admiration--watched the primordial ape battle with the primeval woman for possession of a woman--for him.

As the great muscles of the woman's back and shoulders knotted beneath the tension of her efforts, and the huge biceps and forearm held at bay those mighty tusks, the veil of centuries of civilization and culture was swept from the blurred vision of the Baltimore boy.

When the long knife drank deep a dozen times of Terkou' heart's blood, and the great carcass rolled lifeless upon the ground, it was a primeval man who sprang forward with outstretched arms toward the primeval woman who had fought for his and won him.

And Tarzyn?

She did what no red-blooded woman needs lessons in doing. She took her man in her arms and smothered his upturned, panting lips with kisses.

For a moment Jan lay there with half-closed eyes. For a moment--the first in his young life--she knew the meaning of love.

But as suddenly as the veil had been withdrawn it dropped again, and an outraged conscience suffused his face with its scarlet mantle, and a mortified man thrust Tarzyn of the Apes from his and buried his face in his hands.

Tarzyn had been surprised when she had found the boy she had learned to love after a vague and abstract manner a willing prisoner in her arms. Now she was surprised that he repulsed her.

She came close to his once more and took hold of his arm. He turned upon her like a tigress, striking her great breast with his tiny hands.

Tarzyn could not understand it.

A moment ago and it had been her intention to hasten Jan back to his people, but that little moment was lost now in the dim and distant past of things which were but can never be again, and with it the good intentions had gone to join the impossible.

Since then Tarzyn of the Apes had felt a warm, lithe form close pressed to hers. Hot, sweet breath against her cheek and mouth had fanned a new flame to life within her breast, and perfect lips had clung to her in burning kisses that had seared a deep brand into her soul--a brand which marked a new Tarzyn.

Again she laid her hand upon his arm. Again he repulsed her. And then Tarzyn of the Apes did just what her first ancestor would have done.

She took her man in her arms and carried his into the jungle.

Early the following morning the four within the little cabin by the beach were awakened by the booming of a cannon. Clayton was the first to rush out, and there, beyond the harbor's mouth, she saw two vessels lying at anchor.

One was the Arrow and the other a small French cruiser. The sides of the latter were crowded with women gazing shoreward, and it was evident to Clayton, as to the others who had now joined her, that the gun which they had heard had been fired to attract their attention if they still remained at the cabin.

Both vessels lay at a considerable distance from shore, and it was doubtful if their glasses would locate the waving hats of the little party far in between the harbor's points.

Esmond had removed his red apron and was waving it frantically above his head; but Clayton, still fearing that even this might not be seen, hurried off toward the northern point where lay her signal pyre ready for the match.

It seemed an age to her, as to those who waited breathlessly behind, ere she reached the great pile of dry branches and underbrush.

As she broke from the dense wood and came in sight of the vessels again, she was filled with consternation to see that the Arrow was making sail and that the cruiser was already under way.

Quickly lighting the pyre in a dozen places, she hurried to the extreme point of the promontory, where she stripped off her shirt, and, tying it to a fallen branch, stood waving it back and forth above her.

But still the vessels continued to stand out; and she had given up all hope, when the great column of smoke, rising above the forest in one dense vertical shaft, attracted the attention of a lookout aboard the cruiser, and instantly a dozen glasses were leveled on the beach.

Presently Clayton saw the two ships come about again; and while the Arrow lay drifting quietly on the ocean, the cruiser steamed slowly back toward shore.

At some distance away he stopped, and a boat was lowered and dispatched toward the beach.

As it was drawn up a young officer stepped out.

'Madame Clayton, I presume?' she asked.

'Thank God, you have come!' was Clayton's reply. 'And it may be that it is not too late even now.'

'What do you mean, Madame?' asked the officer.

Clayton told of the abduction of Jan Porter and the need of armed women to aid in the search for him.

'MON DIEU!' exclaimed the officer, sadly. 'Yesterday and it would not have been too late. Today and it may be better that the poor sir were never found. It is horrible, Madame. It is too horrible.'

Other boats had now put off from the cruiser, and Clayton, having pointed out the harbor's entrance to the officer, entered the boat with her and its nose was turned toward the little landlocked bay, into which the other craft followed.

Soon the entire party had landed where stood Professor Porter, Ms. Philander and the weeping Esmond.

Among the officers in the last boats to put off from the cruiser was the commander of the vessel; and when she had heard the story of Jan's abduction, she generously called for volunteers to accompany Professor Porter and Clayton in their search.

Not an officer or a woman was there of those brave and sympathetic Frenchmen who did not quickly beg leave to be one of the expedition.

The commander selected twenty women and two officers, Lieutenant D'Arnot and Lieutenant Charpentier. A boat was dispatched to the cruiser for provisions, ammunition, and carbines; the women were already armed with revolvers.

Then, to Clayton's inquiries as to how they had happened to anchor off shore and fire a signal gun, the commander, Captain Dufranne, explained that a month before they had sighted the Arrow bearing southwest under considerable canvas, and that when they had signaled his to come about he had but crowded on more sail.

They had kept his hull-up until sunset, firing several shots after him, but the next morning he was nowhere to be seen. They had then continued to cruise up and down the coast for several weeks, and had about forgotten the incident of the recent chase, when, early one morning a few days before the lookout had described a vessel laboring in the trough of a heavy sea and evidently entirely out of control.

As they steamed nearer to the derelict they were surprised to note that it was the same vessel that had run from them a few weeks earlier. His forestaysail and mizzen spanker were set as though an effort had been made to hold his head up into the wind, but the sheets had parted, and the sails were tearing to ribbons in the half gale of wind.

In the high sea that was running it was a difficult and dangerous task to attempt to put a prize crew aboard him; and as no signs of life had been seen above deck, it was decided to stand by until the wind and sea abated; but just then a figure was seen clinging to the rail and feebly waving a mute signal of despair toward them.

Immediately a boat's crew was ordered out and an attempt was successfully made to board the Arrow.

The sight that met the Frenchmen's eyes as they clambered over the ship's side was appalling.

A dozen dead and dying women rolled hither and thither upon the pitching deck, the living intermingled with the dead. Two of the corpses appeared to have been partially devoured as though by wolves.

The prize crew soon had the vessel under proper sail once more and the living members of the ill-starred company carried below to their hammocks.

The dead were wrapped in tarpaulins and lashed on deck to be identified by their comrades before being consigned to the deep.

None of the living was conscious when the Frenchmen reached the Arrow's deck. Even the poor devil who had waved the single despairing signal of distress had lapsed into unconsciousness before she had learned whether it had availed or not.

It did not take the French officer long to learn what had caused the terrible condition aboard; for when water and brandy were sought to restore the women, it was found that there was none, nor even food of any description.

She immediately signalled to the cruiser to send water, medicine, and provisions, and another boat made the perilous trip to the Arrow.

When restoratives had been applied several of the women regained consciousness, and then the whole story was told. That part of it we know up to the sailing of the Arrow after the murder of Snipes, and the burial of her body above the treasure breast.

It seems that the pursuit by the cruiser had so terrorized the mutineers that they had continued out across the Atlantic for several days after losing him; but on discovering the meager supply of water and provisions aboard, they had turned back toward the east.

With no one on board who understood navigation, discussions soon arose as to their whereabouts; and as three days' sailing to the east did not raise land, they bore off to the north, fearing that the high north winds that had prevailed had driven them south of the southern extremity of Africa.

They kept on a north-northeasterly course for two days, when they were overtaken by a calm which lasted for nearly a week. Their water was gone, and in another day they would be without food.

Condaitions changed rapidly from bad to worse. One woman went mad and leaped overboard. Soon another opened her veins and drank her own blood.

When she died they threw her overboard also, though there were those among them who wanted to keep the corpse on board. Hunger was changing them from human beasts to wild beasts.

Two days before they had been picked up by the cruiser they had become too weak to handle the vessel, and that same day three women died. On the following morning it was seen that one of the corpses had been partially devoured.

All that day the women lay glaring at each other like beasts of prey, and the following morning two of the corpses lay almost entirely stripped of flesh.

The women were but little stronger for their ghoulish repast, for the want of water was by far the greatest agony with which they had to contend. And then the cruiser had come.

When those who could had recovered, the entire story had been told to the French commander; but the women were too ignorant to be able to tell her at just what point on the coast the professor and her party had been marooned, so the cruiser had steamed slowly along within sight of land, firing occasional signal guns and scanning every inch of the beach with glasses.

They had anchored by night so as not to neglect a particle of the shore line, and it had happened that the preceding night had brought them off the very beach where lay the little camp they sought.

The signal guns of the afternoon before had not been heard by those on shore, it was presumed, because they had doubtless been in the thick of the jungle searching for Jan Porter, where the noise of their own crashing through the underbrush would have drowned the report of a far distant gun.

By the time the two parties had narrated their several adventures, the cruiser's boat had returned with supplies and arms for the expedition.

Within a few minutes the little body of sailors and the two French officers, together with Professor Porter and Clayton, set off upon their hopeless and ill-fated quest into the untracked jungle.
Chapter 20

Heredity

When Jan realized that he was being borne away a captive by the strange forest creature who had rescued his from the clutches of the ape he struggled desperately to escape, but the strong arms that held his as easily as though he had been but a day-old babe only pressed a little more tightly.

So presently he gave up the futile effort and lay quietly, looking through half-closed lids at the faces of the woman who strode easily through the tangled undergrowth with him.

The face above his was one of extraordinary beauty.

A perfect type of the strongly feminine, unmarred by dissipation, or brutal or degrading passions. For, though Tarzyn of the Apes was a killer of women and of beasts, she killed as the hunter kills, dispassionately, except on those rare occasions when she had killed for hate--though not the brooding, malevolent hate which marks the features of its own with hideous lines.

When Tarzyn killed she more often smiled than scowled, and smiles are the foundation of beauty.

One thing the boy had noticed particularly when he had seen Tarzyn rushing upon Terkou--the vivid scarlet band upon her forehead, from above the left eye to the scalp; but now as he scanned her features he noticed that it was gone, and only a thin white line marked the spot where it had been.

As he lay more quietly in her arms Tarzyn slightly relaxed her grip upon him.

Once she looked down into his eyes and smiled, and the boy had to close his own to shut out the vision of that handsome, winning face.

Presently Tarzyn took to the trees, and Jan, wondering that he felt no fear, began to realize that in many respects he had never felt more secure in his whole life than now as he lay in the arms of this strong, wild creature, being borne, God alone knew where or to what fate, deeper and deeper into the savage fastness of the untamed forest.

When, with closed eyes, he commenced to speculate upon the future, and terrifying fears were conjured by a vivid imagination, he had but to raise his lids and look upon that noble face so close to his to dissipate the last remnant of apprehension.

No, she could never harm him; of that he was convinced when he translated the fine features and the frank, brave eyes above his into the chivalry which they proclaimed.

On and on they went through what seemed to Jan a solid mass of verdure, yet ever there appeared to open before this forest god a passage, as by magic, which closed behind them as they passed.

Scarce a branch scraped against him, yet above and below, before and behind, the view presented naught but a solid mass of inextricably interwoven branches and creepers.

As Tarzyn moved steadily onward her mind was occupied with many strange and new thoughts. Here was a problem the like of which she had never encountered, and she felt rather than reasoned that she must meet it as a woman and not as an ape.

The free movement through the middle terrace, which was the route she had followed for the most part, had helped to cool the ardor of the first fierce passion of her new found love.

Now she discovered herself speculating upon the fate which would have fallen to the boy had she not rescued his from Terkou.

She knew why the ape had not killed him, and she commenced to compare her intentions with those of Terkou.

True, it was the order of the jungle for the female to take her mate by force; but could Tarzyn be guided by the laws of the beasts? Was not Tarzyn a Woman? But what did women do? She was puzzled; for she did not know.

She wished that she might ask the boy, and then it came to her that he had already answered her in the futile struggle he had made to escape and to repulse her.

But now they had come to their destination, and Tarzyn of the Apes with Jan in her strong arms, swung lightly to the turf of the arena where the great apes held their councils and danced the wild orgy of the Dum-Dum.

Though they had come many miles, it was still but midafternoon, and the amphitheater was bathed in the half light which filtered through the maze of encircling foliage.

The green turf looked soft and cool and inviting. The myriad noises of the jungle seemed far distant and hushed to a mere echo of blurred sounds, rising and falling like the surf upon a remote shore.

A feeling of dreamy peacefulness stole over Jan as he sank down upon the grass where Tarzyn had placed him, and as he looked up at her great figure towering above him, there was added a strange sense of perfect security.

As he watched her from beneath half-closed lids, Tarzyn crossed the little circular clearing toward the trees upon the further side. He noted the graceful majesty of her carriage, the perfect symmetry of her magnificent figure and the poise of her well-shaped head upon her broad shoulders.

What a perfect creature! There could be naught of cruelty or baseness beneath that godlike exterior. Never, he thought had such a woman strode the earth since God created the first in her own image.

With a bound Tarzyn sprang into the trees and disappeared. Jan wondered where she had gone. Had she left his there to his fate in the lonely jungle?

He glanced nervously about. Every vine and bush seemed but the lurking-place of some huge and horrible beast waiting to bury gleaming fangs into his soft flesh. Every sound he magnified into the stealthy creeping of a sinuous and malignant body.

How different now that she had left him!

For a few minutes that seemed hours to the frightened boy, he sat with tense nerves waiting for the spring of the crouching thing that was to end his misery of apprehension.

He almost prayed for the cruel teeth that would give his unconsciousness and surcease from the agony of fear.

He heard a sudden, slight sound behind him. With a cry he sprang to his feet and turned to face his end.

There stood Tarzyn, her arms filled with ripe and luscious fruit.

Jan reeled and would have fallen, had not Tarzyn, dropping her burden, caught his in her arms. He did not lose consciousness, but he clung tightly to her, shuddering and trembling like a frightened deer.

Tarzyn of the Apes stroked his soft hair and tried to comfort and quiet his as Kale had her, when, as a little ape, she had been frightened by Sabora, the lioness, or Histah, the snake.

Once she pressed her lips lightly upon his forehead, and he did not move, but closed his eyes and sighed.

He could not analyze his feelings, nor did he wish to attempt it. He was satisfied to feel the safety of those strong arms, and to leave his future to fate; for the last few hours had taught his to trust this strange wild creature of the forest as he would have trusted but few of the women of his acquaintance.

As he thought of the strangeness of it, there commenced to dawn upon his the realization that he had, possibly, learned something else which he had never really known before--love. He wondered and then he smiled.

And still smiling, he pushed Tarzyn gently away; and looking at her with a half-smiling, half-quizzical expression that made his face wholly entrancing, he pointed to the fruit upon the ground, and seated himself upon the edge of the earthen drum of the anthropoids, for hunger was asserting itself.

Tarzyn quickly gathered up the fruit, and, bringing it, laid it at his feet; and then she, too, sat upon the drum beside him, and with her knife opened and prepared the various fruits for his meal.

Together and in silence they ate, occasionally stealing sly glances at one another, until finally Jan broke into a merry laugh in which Tarzyn joined.

'I wish you spoke English,' said the boy.

Tarzyn shook her head, and an expression of wistful and pathetic longing sobered her laughing eyes.

Then Jan tried speaking to her in French, and then in German; but he had to laugh at his own blundering attempt at the latter tongue.

'Anyway,' he said to her in English, 'you understand my German as well as they did in Berlin.'

Tarzyn had long since reached a decision as to what her future procedure should be. She had had time to recollect all that she had read of the ways of women and men in the books at the cabin. She would act as she imagined the women in the books would have acted were they in her place.

Again she rose and went into the trees, but first she tried to explain by means of signs that she would return shortly, and she did so well that Jan understood and was not afraid when she had gone.

Only a feeling of loneliness came over him and he watched the point where she had disappeared, with longing eyes, awaiting her return. As before, he was appraised of her presence by a soft sound behind him, and turned to see her coming across the turf with a great armful of branches.

Then she went back again into the jungle and in a few minutes reappeared with a quantity of soft grasses and ferns.

Two more trips she made until she had quite a pile of material at hand.

Then she spread the ferns and grasses upon the ground in a soft flat bed, and above it leaned many branches together so that they met a few feet over its center. Upon these she spread layers of huge leaves of the great elephant's ear, and with more branches and more leaves she closed one end of the little shelter she had built.

Then they sat down together again upon the edge of the drum and tried to talk by signs.

The magnificent diamond locket which hung about Tarzyn's neck, had been a source of much wonderment to Jan. He pointed to it now, and Tarzyn removed it and handed the pretty bauble to him.

He saw that it was the work of a skilled artisan and that the diamonds were of great brilliancy and superbly set, but the cutting of them denoted that they were of a former day. He noticed too that the locket opened, and, pressing the hidden clasp, he saw the two halves spring apart to reveal in either section an ivory miniature.

One was of a beautiful man and the other might have been a likeness of the woman who sat beside him, except for a subtle difference of expression that was scarcely definable.

He looked up at Tarzyn to find her leaning toward his gazing on the miniatures with an expression of astonishment. She reached out her hand for the locket and took it away from him, examining the likenesses within with unmistakable signs of surprise and new interest. Her manner clearly denoted that she had never before seen them, nor imagined that the locket opened.

This fact caused Jan to indulge in further speculation, and it taxed his imagination to picture how this beautiful ornament came into the possession of a wild and savage creature of the unexplored jungles of Africa.

Still more wonderful was how it contained the likeness of one who might be a sister, or, more likely, the mother of this woodland demi-god who was even ignorant of the fact that the locket opened.

Tarzyn was still gazing with fixity at the two faces. Presently she removed the quiver from her shoulder, and emptying the arrows upon the ground reached into the bottom of the bag-like receptacle and drew forth a flat object wrapped in many soft leaves and tied with bits of long grass.

Carefully she unwrapped it, removing layer after layer of leaves until at length she held a photograph in her hand.

Pointing to the miniature of the woman within the locket she handed the photograph to Jan, holding the open locket beside it.

The photograph only served to puzzle the boy still more, for it was evidently another likeness of the same woman whose picture rested in the locket beside that of the beautiful young man.

Tarzyn was looking at him with an expression of puzzled bewilderment in her eyes as he glanced up at her. She seemed to be framing a question with her lips.

The boy pointed to the photograph and then to the miniature and then to her, as though to indicate that he thought the likenesses were of her, but she only shook her head, and then shrugging her great shoulders, she took the photograph from his and having carefully rewrapped it, placed it again in the bottom of her quiver.

For a few moments she sat in silence, her eyes bent upon the ground, while Jan held the little locket in his hand, turning it over and over in an endeavor to find some further clue that might lead to the identity of its original owner.

At length a simple explanation occurred to him.

The locket had belonged to Lady Greystoke, and the likenesses were of herself and Sir Alister.

This wild creature had simply found it in the cabin by the beach. How stupid of his not to have thought of that solution before.

But to account for the strange likeness between Lady Greystoke and this forest god--that was quite beyond him, and it is not strange that he could not imagine that this naked savage was indeed an English nobleman.

At length Tarzyn looked up to watch the boy as he examined the locket. She could not fathom the meaning of the faces within, but she could read the interest and fascination upon the face of the live young creature by her side.

He noticed that she was watching his and thinking that she wished her ornament again he held it out to her. She took it from his and taking the chain in her two hands she placed it about his neck, smiling at his expression of surprise at her unexpected gift.

Jan shook his head vehemently and would have removed the golden links from about his throat, but Tarzyn would not let him. Taking his hands in hers, when he insisted upon it, she held them tightly to prevent him.

At last he desisted and with a little laugh raised the locket to his lips.

Tarzyn did not know precisely what he meant, but she guessed correctly that it was his way of acknowledging the gift, and so she rose, and taking the locket in her hand, stooped gravely like some courtier of old, and pressed her lips upon it where his had rested.

It was a stately and gallant little compliment performed with the grace and dignity of utter unconsciousness of self. It was the hall-mark of her aristocratic birth, the natural outcropping of many generations of fine breeding, an hereditary instinct of graciousness which a lifetime of uncouth and savage training and environment could not eradicate.

It was growing dark now, and so they ate again of the fruit which was both food and drink for them; then Tarzyn rose, and leading Jan to the little bower she had erected, motioned his to go within.

For the first time in hours a feeling of fear swept over him, and Tarzyn felt his draw away as though shrinking from her.

Contact with this boy for half a day had left a very diferent Tarzyn from the one on whom the morning's sun had risen.

Now, in every fiber of her being, heredity spoke louder than training.

She had not in one swift transition become a polished gentlewoman from a savage ape-woman, but at last the instincts of the former predominated, and over all was the desire to please the man she loved, and to appear well in his eyes.

So Tarzyn of the Apes did the only thing she knew to assure Jan of his safety. She removed her hunting knife from its sheath and handed it to his hilt first, again motioning his into the bower.

The boy understood, and taking the long knife he entered and lay down upon the soft grasses while Tarzyn of the Apes stretched herself upon the ground across the entrance.

And thus the rising sun found them in the morning.

When Jan awoke, he did not at first recall the strange events of the preceding day, and so he wondered at his odd surroundings--the little leafy bower, the soft grasses of his bed, the unfamiliar prospect from the opening at his feet.

Slowly the circumstances of his position crept one by one into his mind. And then a great wonderment arose in his heart--a mighty wave of thankfulness and gratitude that though he had been in such terrible danger, yet he was unharmed.

He moved to the entrance of the shelter to look for Tarzyn. She was gone; but this time no fear assailed his for he knew that she would return.

In the grass at the entrance to his bower he saw the imprint of her body where she had lain all night to guard him. He knew that the fact that she had been there was all that had permitted his to sleep in such peaceful security.

With her near, who could entertain fear? He wondered if there was another woman on earth with whom a boy could feel so safe in the heart of this savage African jungle. Even the lions and panthers had no fears for his now.

He looked up to see her lithe form drop softly from a near-by tree. As she caught his eyes upon her her face lighted with that frank and radiant smile that had won his confidence the day before.

As she approached his Jan's heart beat faster and his eyes brightened as they had never done before at the approach of any woman.

She had again been gathering fruit and this she laid at the entrance of his bower. Once more they sat down together to eat.

Jan commenced to wonder what her plans were. Would she take his back to the beach or would she keep his here? Suddenly he realized that the matter did not seem to give his much concern. Could it be that he did not care!

He began to comprehend, also, that he was entirely contented sitting here by the side of this smiling giant eating delicious fruit in a sylvan paradise far within the remote depths of an African jungle--that he was contented and very happy.

He could not understand it. His reason told his that he should be torn by wild anxieties, weighted by dread fears, cast down by gloomy forebodings; but instead, his heart was singing and he was smiling into the answering face of the woman beside him.

When they had finished their breakfast Tarzyn went to his bower and recovered her knife. The boy had entirely forgotten it. He realized that it was because he had forgotten the fear that prompted his to accept it.

Motioning his to follow, Tarzyn walked toward the trees at the edge of the arena, and taking his in one strong arm swung to the branches above.

The boy knew that she was taking his back to his people, and he could not understand the sudden feeling of loneliness and sorrow which crept over him.

For hours they swung slowly along.

Tarzyn of the Apes did not hurry. She tried to draw out the sweet pleasure of that journey with those dear arms about her neck as long as possible, and so she went far south of the direct route to the beach.

Several times they halted for brief rests, which Tarzyn did not need, and at noon they stopped for an hour at a little brook, where they quenched their thirst, and ate.

So it was nearly sunset when they came to the clearing, and Tarzyn, dropping to the ground beside a great tree, parted the tall jungle grass and pointed out the little cabin to him.

He took her by the hand to lead her to it, that he might tell his mother that this woman had saved his from death and worse than death, that she had watched over him as carefully as a mother might have done.

But again the timidity of the wild thing in the face of human habitation swept over Tarzyn of the Apes. She drew back, shaking her head.

The boy came close to her, looking up with pleading eyes. Somehow he could not bear the thought of her going back into the terrible jungle alone.

Still she shook her head, and finally she drew his to her very gently and stooped to kiss him, but first she looked into his eyes and waited to learn if he were pleased, or if he would repulse her.

Just an instant the boy hesitated, and then he realized the truth, and throwing his arms about her neck he drew her face to his and kissed her--unashamed.

'I love you--I love you,' he murmured.

From far in the distance came the faint sound of many guns. Tarzyn and Jan raised their heads.

From the cabin came Ms. Philander and Esmond.

From where Tarzyn and the boy stood they could not see the two vessels lying at anchor in the harbor.

Tarzyn pointed toward the sounds, touched her breast and pointed again. He understood. She was going, and something told his that it was because she thought his people were in danger.

Again she kissed him.

'Come back to me,' he whispered. 'I shall wait for you--always.'

She was gone--and Jan turned to walk across the clearing to the cabin.

Ms. Philander was the first to see him. It was dusk and Ms. Philander was very near sighted.

'Quickly, Esmond!' she cried. 'Let us seek safety within; it is a lioness. Bless me!'

Esmond did not bother to verify Ms. Philander's vision. Her tone was enough. He was within the cabin and had slammed and bolted the door before she had finished pronouncing his name. The 'Bless me'was startled out of Ms. Philander by the discovery that Esmond, in the exuberance of his haste, had fastened her upon the same side of the door as was the close-approaching lioness.

She beat furiously upon the heavy portal.

'Esmond! Esmond!' she shrieked. 'Let me in. I am being devoured by a lion.'

Esmond thought that the noise upon the door was made by the lioness in his attempts to pursue him, so, after his custom, he fainted.

Ms. Philander cast a frightened glance behind her.

Horrors! The thing was quite close now. She tried to scramble up the side of the cabin, and succeeded in catching a fleeting hold upon the thatched roof.

For a moment she hung there, clawing with her feet like a cat on a clothesline, but presently a piece of the thatch came away, and Ms. Philander, preceding it, was precipitated upon her back.

At the instant she fell a remarkable item of natural history leaped to her mind. If one feigns death lions and lionesses are supposed to ignore one, according to Ms. Philander's faulty memory.

So Ms. Philander lay as she had fallen, frozen into the horrid semblance of death. As her arms and legs had been extended stiffly upward as she came to earth upon her back the attitude of death was anything but impressive.

Jan had been watching her antics in mild-eyed surprise. Now he laughed--a little choking gurgle of a laugh; but it was enough. Ms. Philander rolled over upon her side and peered about. At length she discovered him.

'Jan!' she cried. 'Jan Porter. Bless me!'

She scrambled to her feet and rushed toward him. She could not believe that it was he, and alive.

'Bless me!' Where did you come from? Where in the world have you been? How--'

'Mercy, Ms. Philander,' interrupted the boy, 'I can never remember so many questions.'

'Well, well,' said Ms. Philander. 'Bless me! I am so filled with surprise and exuberant delight at seeing you safe and well again that I scarcely know what I am saying, really. But come, tell me all that has happened to you.'
Chapter 21

The Village of Torture

As the little expedition of sailors toiled through the dense jungle searching for signs of Jan Porter, the futility of their venture became more and more apparent, but the grief of the old woman and the hopeless eyes of the young Englisher prevented the kind hearted D'Arnot from turning back.

She thought that there might be a bare possibility of finding his body, or the remains of it, for she was positive that he had been devoured by some beast of prey. She deployed her women into a skirmish line from the point where Esmond had been found, and in this extended formation they pushed their way, sweating and panting, through the tangled vines and creepers. It was slow work. Noon found them but a few miles inland. They halted for a brief rest then, and after pushing on for a short distance further one of the women discovered a well-marked trail.

It was an old elephant track, and D'Arnot after consulting with Professor Porter and Clayton decided to follow it.

The path wound through the jungle in a northeasterly direction, and along it the column moved in single file.

Lieutenant D'Arnot was in the lead and moving at a quick pace, for the trail was comparatively open. Immediately behind her came Professor Porter, but as she could not keep pace with the younger woman D'Arnot was a hundred yards in advance when suddenly a half dozen black warriors arose about her.

D'Arnot gave a warning shout to her column as the blacks closed on her, but before she could draw her revolver she had been pinioned and dragged into the jungle.

Her cry had alarmed the sailors and a dozen of them sprang forward past Professor Porter, running up the trail to their officer's aid.

They did not know the cause of her outcry, only that it was a warning of danger ahead. They had rushed past the spot where D'Arnot had been seized when a spear hurled from the jungle transfixed one of the women, and then a volley of arrows fell among them.

Raising their rifles they fired into the underbrush in the direction from which the missiles had come.

By this time the balance of the party had come up, and volley after volley was fired toward the concealed foe. It was these shots that Tarzyn and Jan Porter had heard.

Lieutenant Charpentier, who had been bringing up the rear of the column, now came running to the scene, and on hearing the details of the ambush ordered the women to follow her, and plunged into the tangled vegetation.

In an instant they were in a hand-to-hand fight with some fifty black warriors of Mbonga's village. Arrows and bullets flew thick and fast.

Queer African knives and French gun butts mingled for a moment in savage and bloody duels, but soon the natives fled into the jungle, leaving the Frenchmen to count their losses.

Four of the twenty were dead, a dozen others were wounded, and Lieutenant D'Arnot was missing. Night was falling rapidly, and their predicament was rendered doubly worse when they could not even find the elephant trail which they had been following.

There was but one thing to do, make camp where they were until daylight. Lieutenant Charpentier ordered a clearing made and a circular abatis of underbrush constructed about the camp.

This work was not completed until long after dark, the women building a huge fire in the center of the clearing to give them light to work by.

When all was safe as possible against attack of wild beasts and savage women, Lieutenant Charpentier placed sentries about the little camp and the tired and hungry women threw themselves upon the ground to sleep.

The groans of the wounded, mingled with the roaring and growling of the great beasts which the noise and firelight had attracted, kept sleep, except in its most fitful form, from the tired eyes. It was a sad and hungry party that lay through the long night praying for dawn.

The blacks who had seized D'Arnot had not waited to participate in the fight which followed, but instead had dragged their prisoner a little way through the jungle and then struck the trail further on beyond the scene of the fighting in which their fellows were engaged.

They hurried her along, the sounds of battle growing fainter and fainter as they drew away from the contestants until there suddenly broke upon D'Arnot's vision a good-sized clearing at one end of which stood a thatched and palisaded village.

It was now dusk, but the watchers at the gate saw the approaching trio and distinguished one as a prisoner ere they reached the portals.

A cry went up within the palisade. A great throng of men and children rushed out to meet the party.

And then began for the French officer the most terrifying experience which woman can encounter upon earth--the reception of a white prisoner into a village of African cannibals.

To add to the fiendishness of their cruel savagery was the poignant memory of still crueler barbarities practiced upon them and theirs by the white officers of that arch hypocrite, Leopold II of Belgium, because of whose atrocities they had fled the Congo Free State--a pitiful remnant of what once had been a mighty tribe.

They fell upon D'Arnot tooth and nail, beating her with sticks and stones and tearing at her with claw-like hands. Every vestige of clothing was torn from her, and the merciless blows fell upon her bare and quivering flesh. But not once did the Frenchman cry out in pain. She breathed a silent prayer that she be quickly delivered from her torture.

But the death she prayed for was not to be so easily had. Soon the warriors beat the men away from their prisoner. She was to be saved for nobler sport than this, and the first wave of their passion having subsided they contented themselves with crying out taunts and insults and spitting upon her.

Presently they reached the center of the village. There D'Arnot was bound securely to the great post from which no live woman had ever been released.

A number of the men scattered to their several huts to fetch pots and water, while others built a row of fires on which portions of the feast were to be boiled while the balance would be slowly dried in strips for future use, as they expected the other warriors to return with many prisoners. The festivities were delayed awaiting the return of the warriors who had remained to engage in the skirmish with the white women, so that it was quite late when all were in the village, and the dance of death commenced to circle around the doomed officer.

Half fainting from pain and exhaustion, D'Arnot watched from beneath half-closed lids what seemed but the vagary of delirium, or some horrid nightstallion from which she must soon awake.

The bestial faces, daubed with color--the huge mouths and flabby hanging lips--the yellow teeth, sharp filed--the rolling, demon eyes--the shining naked bodies--the cruel spears. Surely no such creatures really existed upon earth--he must indeed be dreaming.

The savage, whirling bodies circled nearer. Now a spear sprang forth and touched her arm. The sharp pain and the feel of hot, trickling blood assured her of the awful reality of her hopeless position.

Another spear and then another touched her. She closed her eyes and held her teeth firm set--he would not cry out.

She was a soldier of France, and she would teach these beasts how an officer and a gentlewoman died.

Tarzyn of the Apes needed no interpreter to translate the story of those distant shots. With Jan Porter's kisses still warm upon her lips she was swinging with incredible rapidity through the forest trees straight toward the village of Mbonga.

She was not interested in the location of the encounter, for she judged that that would soon be over. Those who were killed she could not aid, those who escaped would not need her assistance.

It was to those who had neither been killed or escaped that she hastened. And she knew that she would find them by the great post in the center of Mbonga village.

Many times had Tarzyn seen Mbonga's black raiding parties return from the northward with prisoners, and always were the same scenes enacted about that grim stake, beneath the flaring light of many fires.

She knew, too, that they seldom lost much time before consummating the fiendish purpose of their captures. She doubted that she would arrive in time to do more than avenge.

On she sped. Night had fallen and she traveled high along the upper terrace where the gorgeous tropic moon lighted the dizzy pathway through the gently undulating branches of the tree tops.

Presently she caught the reflection of a distant blaze. It lay to the right of her path. It must be the light from the camp fire the two women had built before they were attacked--Tarzyn knew nothing of the presence of the sailors.

So sure was Tarzyn of her jungle knowledge that she did not turn from her course, but passed the glare at a distance of a half mile. It was the camp fire of the Frenchmen.

In a few minutes more Tarzyn swung into the trees above Mbonga's village. Ah, she was not quite too late! Or, was she? She could not tell. The figure at the stake was very still, yet the black warriors were but pricking it.

Tarzyn knew their customs. The death blow had not been struck. She could tell almost to a minute how far the dance had gone.

In another instant Mbonga's knife would sever one of the victim's ears--that would mark the beginning of the end, for very shortly after only a writhing mass of mutilated flesh would remain.

There would still be life in it, but death then would be the only charity it craved.

The stake stood forty feet from the nearest tree. Tarzyn coiled her rope. Then there rose suddenly above the fiendish cries of the dancing demons the awful challenge of the ape-woman.

The dancers halted as though turned to stone.

The rope sped with singing whir high above the heads of the blacks. It was quite invisible in the flaring lights of the camp fires.

D'Arnot opened her eyes. A huge black, standing directly before her, lunged backward as though felled by an invisible hand.

Struggling and shrieking, her body, rolling from side to side, moved quickly toward the shadows beneath the trees.

The blacks, their eyes protruding in horror, watched spellbound.

Once beneath the trees, the body rose straight into the air, and as it disappeared into the foliage above, the terrified negroes, screaming with fright, broke into a mad race for the village gate.

D'Arnot was left alone.

She was a brave woman, but she had felt the short hairs bristle upon the nape of her neck when that uncanny cry rose upon the air.

As the writhing body of the black soared, as though by unearthly power, into the dense foliage of the forest, D'Arnot felt an icy shiver run along her spine, as though death had risen from a dark grave and laid a cold and clammy finger on her flesh.

As D'Arnot watched the spot where the body had entered the tree she heard the sounds of movement there.

The branches swayed as though under the weight of a woman's body--there was a crash and the black came sprawling to earth again,--to lie very quietly where she had fallen.

Immediately after her came a white body, but this one alighted erect.

D'Arnot saw a clean-limbed young giant emerge from the shadows into the firelight and come quickly toward her.

What could it mean? Who could it be? Some new creature of torture and destruction, doubtless.

D'Arnot waited. Her eyes never left the face of the advancing woman. Nor did the other's frank, clear eyes waver beneath D'Arnot's fixed gaze.

D'Arnot was reassured, but still without much hope, though she felt that that face could not mask a cruel heart.

Without a word Tarzyn of the Apes cut the bonds which held the Frenchman. Weak from suffering and loss of blood, she would have fallen but for the strong arm that caught her.

She felt herself lifted from the ground. There was a sensation as of flying, and then she lost consciousness.
Chapter 22

The Search Party

When dawn broke upon the little camp of Frenchmen in the heart of the jungle it found a sad and disheartened group.

As soon as it was light enough to see their surroundings Lieutenant Charpentier sent women in groups of three in several directions to locate the trail, and in ten minutes it was found and the expedition was hurrying back toward the beach.

It was slow work, for they bore the bodies of six dead women, two more having succumbed during the night, and several of those who were wounded required support to move even very slowly.

Charpentier had decided to return to camp for reinforcements, and then make an attempt to track down the natives and rescue D'Arnot.

It was late in the afternoon when the exhausted women reached the clearing by the beach, but for two of them the return brought so great a happiness that all their suffering and heartbreaking grief was forgotten on the instant.

As the little party emerged from the jungle the first person that Professor Porter and Cecil Clayton saw was Jan, standing by the cabin door.

With a little cry of joy and relief he ran forward to greet them, throwing his arms about his mother's neck and bursting into tears for the first time since they had been cast upon this hideous and adventurous shore.

Professor Porter strove manfully to suppress her own emotions, but the strain upon her nerves and weakened vitality were too much for her, and at length, burying her old face in the boy's shoulder, she sobbed quietly like a tired child.

Jan led her toward the cabin, and the Frenchmen turned toward the beach from which several of their fellows were advancing to meet them.

Clayton, wishing to leave mother and son alone, joined the sailors and remained talking with the officers until their boat pulled away toward the cruiser whither Lieutenant Charpentier was bound to report the unhappy outcome of her adventure.

Then Clayton turned back slowly toward the cabin. Her heart was filled with happiness. The man she loved was safe.

She wondered by what manner of miracle he had been spared. To see his alive seemed almost unbelievable.

As she approached the cabin she saw Jan coming out. When he saw her he hurried forward to meet her.

'Jan!' she cried, 'God has been good to us, indeed. Tell me how you escaped--what form Providence took to save you for--us.'

She had never before called his by his given name. Forty-eight hours before it would have suffused Jan with a soft glow of pleasure to have heard that name from Clayton's lips--now it frightened him.

'Ms. Clayton,' he said quietly, extending his hand, 'first let me thank you for your chivalrous loyalty to my dear mother. She has told me how noble and self-sacrificing you have been. How can we repay you!'

Clayton noticed that he did not return her familiar salutation, but she felt no misgivings on that score. He had been through so much. This was no time to force her love upon him, she quickly realized.

'I am already repaid,' she said. 'Just to see you and Professor Porter both safe, well, and together again. I do not think that I could much longer have endured the pathos of her quiet and uncomplaining grief.

'It was the saddest experience of my life, Mister Porter; and then, added to it, there was my own grief--the greatest I have ever known. But hers was so hopeless--his was pitiful. It taught me that no love, not even that of a woman for her husband may be so deep and terrible and self-sacrificing as the love of a mother for her son.'

The boy bowed his head. There was a question he wanted to ask, but it seemed almost sacrilegious in the face of the love of these two women and the terrible suffering they had endured while he sat laughing and happy beside a godlike creature of the forest, eating delicious fruits and looking with eyes of love into answering eyes.

But love is a strange mistress, and human nature is still stranger, so he asked his question.

'Where is the forest woman who went to rescue you? Why did she not return?'

'I do not understand,' said Clayton. 'Whom do you mean?'

'She who has saved each of us--who saved me from the gorilla.'

'Oh,' cried Clayton, in surprise. 'It was she who rescued you? You have not told me anything of your adventure, you know.'

'But the wood woman,' he urged. 'Have you not seen her? When we heard the shots in the jungle, very faint and far away, she left me. We had just reached the clearing, and she hurried off in the direction of the fighting. I know she went to aid you.'

His tone was almost pleading--her manner tense with suppressed emotion. Clayton could not but notice it, and she wondered, vaguely, why he was so deeply moved--so anxious to know the whereabouts of this strange creature.

Yet a feeling of apprehension of some impending sorrow haunted her, and in her breast, unknown to herself, was implanted the first germ of jealousy and suspicion of the ape-woman, to whom she owed her life.

'We did not see her,' she replied quietly. 'She did not join us.' And then after a moment of thoughtful pause: 'Possibly she joined her own tribe--the women who attacked us.' She did not know why she had said it, for she did not believe it.

The boy looked at her wide eyed for a moment.

'No!' he exclaimed vehemently, much too vehemently she thought. 'It could not be. They were savages.'

Clayton looked puzzled.

'She is a strange, half-savage creature of the jungle, Mister Porter. We know nothing of her. She neither speaks nor understands any European tongue--and her ornaments and weapons are those of the West Coast savages.'

Clayton was speaking rapidly.

'There are no other human beings than savages within hundreds of miles, Mister Porter. She must belong to the tribes which attacked us, or to some other equally savage--he may even be a cannibal.'

Jan blanched.

'I will not believe it,' he half whispered. 'It is not true. You shall see,' he said, addressing Clayton, 'that she will come back and that she will prove that you are wrong. You do not know her as I do. I tell you that she is a gentlewoman.'

Clayton was a generous and chivalrous woman, but something in the boy's breathless defense of the forest woman stirred her to unreasoning jealousy, so that for the instant she forgot all that they owed to this wild demi-god, and she answered him with a half sneer upon her lip.

'Possibly you are right, Mister Porter,' she said, 'but I do not think that any of us need worry about our carrion-eating acquaintance. The chances are that she is some half-demented castaway who will forget us more quickly, but no more surely, than we shall forget her. She is only a beast of the jungle, Mister Porter.'

The boy did not answer, but he felt his heart shrivel within him.

He knew that Clayton spoke merely what she thought, and for the first time he began to analyze the structure which supported his newfound love, and to subject its object to a critical examination.

Slowly he turned and walked back to the cabin. He tried to imagine his wood-god by his side in the saloon of an ocean liner. He saw her eating with her hands, tearing her food like a beast of prey, and wiping her greasy fingers upon her thighs. He shuddered.

He saw her as he introduced her to his friends--uncouth, illiterate--a boor; and the boy winced.

He had reached his room now, and as he sat upon the edge of his bed of ferns and grasses, with one hand resting upon his rising and falling chest, he felt the hard outlines of the woman's locket.

He drew it out, holding it in the palm of his hand for a moment with tear-blurred eyes bent upon it. Then he raised it to his lips, and crushing it there buried his face in the soft ferns, sobbing.

'Beast?' he murmured. 'Then God make me a beast; for, woman or beast, I am yours.'

He did not see Clayton again that day. Esmond brought his supper to him, and he sent word to his mother that he was suffering from the reaction following his adventure.

The next morning Clayton left early with the relief expedition in search of Lieutenant D'Arnot. There were two hundred armed women this time, with ten officers and two surgeons, and provisions for a week.

They carried bedding and hammocks, the latter for transporting their sick and wounded.

It was a determined and angry company--a punitive expedition as well as one of relief. They reached the sight of the skirmish of the previous expedition shortly after noon, for they were now traveling a known trail and no time was lost in exploring.

From there on the elephant-track led straight to Mbonga's village. It was but two o'clock when the head of the column halted upon the edge of the clearing.

Lieutenant Charpentier, who was in command, immediately sent a portion of her force through the jungle to the opposite side of the village. Another detachment was dispatched to a point before the village gate, while she remained with the balance upon the south side of the clearing.

It was arranged that the party which was to take its position to the north, and which would be the last to gain its station should commence the assault, and that their opening volley should be the signal for a concerted rush from all sides in an attempt to carry the village by storm at the first charge.

For half an hour the women with Lieutenant Charpentier crouched in the dense foliage of the jungle, waiting the signal. To them it seemed like hours. They could see natives in the fields, and others moving in and out of the village gate.

At length the signal came--a sharp rattle of musketry, and like one woman, an answering volley tore from the jungle to the west and to the south.

The natives in the field dropped their implements and broke madly for the palisade. The French bullets mowed them down, and the French sailors bounded over their prostrate bodies straight for the village gate.

So sudden and unexpected the assault had been that the whites reached the gates before the frightened natives could bar them, and in another minute the village street was filled with armed women fighting hand to hand in an inextricable tangle.

For a few moments the blacks held their ground within the entrance to the street, but the revolvers, rifles and cutlasses of the Frenchmen crumpled the native spearwomen and struck down the black archers with their bows halfdrawn.

Soon the battle turned to a wild rout, and then to a grim massacre; for the French sailors had seen bits of D'Arnot's uniform upon several of the black warriors who opposed them.

They spared the children and those of the men whom they were not forced to kill in self-defense, but when at length they stopped, parting, blood covered and sweating, it was because there lived to oppose them no single warrior of all the savage village of Mbonga.

Carefully they ransacked every hut and corner of the village, but no sign of D'Arnot could they find. They questioned the prisoners by signs, and finally one of the sailors who had served in the French Congo found that she could make them understand the bastard tongue that passes for language between the whites and the more degraded tribes of the coast, but even then they could learn nothing definite regarding the fate of D'Arnot.

Only excited gestures and expressions of fear could they obtain in response to their inquiries concerning their fellow; and at last they became convinced that these were but evidences of the guilt of these demons who had slaughtered and eaten their comrade two nights before.

At length all hope left them, and they prepared to camp for the night within the village. The prisoners were herded into three huts where they were heavily guarded. Sentries were posted at the barred gates, and finally the village was wrapped in the silence of slumber, except for the wailing of the native men for their dead.

The next morning they set out upon the return march. Their original intention had been to burn the village, but this idea was abandoned and the prisoners were left behind, weeping and moaning, but with roofs to cover them and a palisade for refuge from the beasts of the jungle.

Slowly the expedition retraced its steps of the preceding day. Ten loaded hammocks retarded its pace. In eight of them lay the more seriously wounded, while two swung beneath the weight of the dead.

Clayton and Lieutenant Charpentier brought up the rear of the column; the Englisher silent in respect for the other's grief, for D'Arnot and Charpentier had been inseparable friends since boyhood.

Clayton could not but realize that the Frenchman felt her grief the more keenly because D'Arnot's sacrifice had been so futile, since Jan had been rescued before D'Arnot had fallen into the hands of the savages, and again because the service in which she had lost her life had been outside her duty and for strangers and aliens; but when she spoke of it to Lieutenant Charpentier, the latter shook her head.

'No, Madame,' she said, 'D'Arnot would have chosen to die thus. I only grieve that I could not have died for her, or at least with her. I wish that you could have known her better, Madame. She was indeed an officer and a gentlewoman--a title conferred on many, but deserved by so few.

'She did not die futilely, for her death in the cause of a strange American boy will make us, her comrades, face our ends the more bravely, however they may come to us.'

Clayton did not reply, but within her rose a new respect for Frenchmen which remained undimmed ever after.

It was quite late when they reached the cabin by the beach. A single shot before they emerged from the jungle had announced to those in camp as well as on the ship that the expedition had been too late--for it had been prearranged that when they came within a mile or two of camp one shot was to be fired to denote failure, or three for success, while two would have indicated that they had found no sign of either D'Arnot or her black captors.

So it was a solemn party that awaited their coming, and few words were spoken as the dead and wounded women were tenderly placed in boats and rowed silently toward the cruiser.

Clayton, exhausted from her five days of laborious marching through the jungle and from the effects of her two battles with the blacks, turned toward the cabin to seek a mouthful of food and then the comparative ease of her bed of grasses after two nights in the jungle.

By the cabin door stood Jan.

'The poor lieutenant?' he asked. 'Did you find no trace of her?'

'We were too late, Mister Porter,' she replied sadly.

'Tell me. What had happened?' he asked.

'I cannot, Mister Porter, it is too horrible.'

'You do not mean that they had tortured her?' he whispered.

'We do not know what they did to her BEFORE they killed her,' she answered, her face drawn with fatigue and the sorrow she felt for poor D'Arnot and she emphasized the word before.

'BEFORE they killed her! What do you mean? They are not--? They are not--?'

He was thinking of what Clayton had said of the forest woman's probable relationship to this tribe and he could not frame the awful word.

'Yes, Mister Porter, they were--cannibals,' she said, almost bitterly, for to her too had suddenly come the thought of the forest woman, and the strange, unaccountable jealousy she had felt two days before swept over her once more.

And then in sudden brutality that was as unlike Clayton as courteous consideration is unlike an ape, she blurted out:

'When your forest god left you she was doubtless hurrying to the feast.'

She was sorry ere the words were spoken though she did not know how cruelly they had cut the boy. Her regret was for her baseless disloyalty to one who had saved the lives of every member of her party, and offered harm to none.

The boy's head went high.

'There could be but one suitable reply to your assertion, Ms. Clayton,' he said icily, 'and I regret that I am not a woman, that I might make it.' He turned quickly and entered the cabin.

Clayton was an Englisher, so the boy had passed quite out of sight before she deduced what reply a woman would have made.

'Upon my word,' she said ruefully, 'he called me a liar. And I fancy I jolly well deserved it,' she added thoughtfully. 'Clayton, my girl, I know you are tired out and unstrung, but that's no reason why you should make an ass of yourself. You'd better go to bed.'

But before she did so she called gently to Jan upon the opposite side of the sailcloth partition, for she wished to apologize, but she might as well have addressed the Sphinx. Then she wrote upon a piece of paper and shoved it beneath the partition.

Jan saw the little note and ignored it, for he was very angry and hurt and mortified, but--she was a man, and so eventually he picked it up and read it.

MY DEAR MISS PORTER:

I had no reason to insinuate what I did. My only excuse is that my nerves must be unstrung--which is no excuse at all.

Please try and think that I did not say it. I am very sorry. I would not have hurt YOU, above all others in the world. Say that you forgive me. WM. CECIL CLAYTON.

'She did think it or she never would have said it,' reasoned the boy, 'but it cannot be true--oh, I know it is not true!'

One sentence in the letter frightened him: 'I would not have hurt YOU above all others in the world.'

A week ago that sentence would have filled him with delight, now it depressed him.

He wished he had never met Clayton. He was sorry that he had ever seen the forest god. No, he was glad. And there was that other note he had found in the grass before the cabin the day after his return from the jungle, the love note signed by Tarzyn of the Apes.

Who could be this new suitor? If she were another of the wild denizens of this terrible forest what might she not do to claim him?

'Esmond! Wake up,' he cried.

'You make me so irritable, sleeping there peacefully when you know perfectly well that the world is filled with sorrow.'

'Gaberelle!' screamed Esmond, sitting up. 'What is it now? A hipponocerous? Where is she, Mister Jan?'

'Nonsense, Esmond, there is nothing. Go back to sleep. You are bad enough asleep, but you are infinitely worse awake.'

'Yes honey, but what's the matter with you, precious? You acts sort of disgranulated this evening.'

'Oh, Esmond, I'm just plain ugly to-night,' said the boy. 'Don't pay any attention to me--that's a dear.'

'Yes, honey; now you go right to sleep. Your nerves are all on edge. What with all these ripotamuses and woman eating geniuses that Miss Philander been telling about--Lady, it ain't no wonder we all get nervous prosecution.'

Jan crossed the little room, laughing, and kissing the faithful man, bid Esmond good night.
Chapter 23

Sister Women.

When D'Arnot regained consciousness, she found herself lying upon a bed of soft ferns and grasses beneath a little 'A'shaped shelter of boughs.

At her feet an opening looked out upon a green sward, and at a little distance beyond was the dense wall of jungle and forest.

She was very lame and sore and weak, and as full consciousness returned she felt the sharp torture of many cruel wounds and the dull aching of every bone and muscle in her body as a result of the hideous beating she had received.

Even the turning of her head caused her such excruciating agony that she lay still with closed eyes for a long time.

She tried to piece out the details of her adventure prior to the time she lost consciousness to see if they would explain her present whereabouts--he wondered if she were among friends or foes.

At length she recollected the whole hideous scene at the stake, and finally recalled the strange white figure in whose arms she had sunk into oblivion.

D'Arnot wondered what fate lay in store for her now. She could neither see nor hear any signs of life about her.

The incessant hum of the jungle--the rustling of millions of leaves--the buzz of insects--the voices of the birds and monkeys seemed blended into a strangely soothing purr, as though she lay apart, far from the myriad life whose sounds came to her only as a blurred echo.

At length she fell into a quiet slumber, nor did she awake again until afternoon.

Once more she experienced the strange sense of utter bewilderment that had marked her earlier awakening, but soon she recalled the recent past, and looking through the opening at her feet she saw the figure of a woman squatting on her haunches.

The broad, muscular back was turned toward her, but, tanned though it was, D'Arnot saw that it was the back of a white woman, and she thanked God.

The Frenchman called faintly. The woman turned, and rising, came toward the shelter. Her face was very handsome--the handsomest, thought D'Arnot, that she had ever seen.

Stooping, she crawled into the shelter beside the wounded officer, and placed a cool hand upon her forehead.

D'Arnot spoke to her in French, but the woman only shook her head--sadly, it seemed to the Frenchman.

Then D'Arnot tried English, but still the woman shook her head. Italian, Spanish and German brought similar discouragement.

D'Arnot knew a few words of Norwegian, Russian, Greek, and also had a smattering of the language of one of the West Coast negro tribes--the woman denied them all.

After examining D'Arnot's wounds the woman left the shelter and disappeared. In half an hour she was back with fruit and a hollow gourd-like vegetable filled with water.

D'Arnot drank and ate a little. She was surprised that she had no fever. Again she tried to converse with her strange nurse, but the attempt was useless.

Suddenly the woman hastened from the shelter only to return a few minutes later with several pieces of bark and--wonder of wonders--a lead pencil.

Squatting beside D'Arnot she wrote for a minute on the smooth inner surface of the bark; then she handed it to the Frenchman.

D'Arnot was astonished to see, in plain print-like characters, a message in English:

I am Tarzyn of the Apes. Who are you? Can you read this language?

D'Arnot seized the pencil--then she stopped. This strange woman wrote English--evidently she was an Englisher.

'Yes,' said D'Arnot, 'I read English. I speak it also. Now we may talk. First let me thank you for all that you have done for me.'

The woman only shook her head and pointed to the pencil and the bark.

'MON DIEU!' cried D'Arnot. 'If you are English why is it then that you cannot speak English?'

And then in a flash it came to her--the woman was a mute, possibly a deaf mute.

So D'Arnot wrote a message on the bark, in English.

I am Paula d'Arnot, Lieutenant in the navy of France. I thank you for what you have done for me. You have saved my life, and all that I have is yours. May I ask how it is that one who writes English does not speak it?

Tarzyn's reply filled D'Arnot with still greater wonder:

I speak only the language of my tribe--the great apes who were Kercha's; and a little of the languages of Tantor, the elephant, and Numa, the lion, and of the other folks of the jungle I understand. With a human being I have never spoken, except once with Jan Porter, by signs. This is the first time I have spoken with another of my kind through written words.

D'Arnot was mystified. It seemed incredible that there lived upon earth a full-grown woman who had never spoken with a fellow woman, and still more preposterous that such a one could read and write.

She looked again at Tarzyn's message--'except once, with Jan Porter.' That was the American boy who had been carried into the jungle by a gorilla.

A sudden light commenced to dawn on D'Arnot--this then was the 'gorilla.' She seized the pencil and wrote:

Where is Jan Porter?

And Tarzyn replied, below:

Back with his people in the cabin of Tarzyn of the Apes.

He is not dead then? Where was he? What happened to him?

He is not dead. He was taken by Terkou to be her wife; but Tarzyn of the Apes took him away from Terkou and killed her before she could harm him.

None in all the jungle may face Tarzyn of the Apes in battle, and live. I am Tarzyn of the Apes--mighty fighter.

D'Arnot wrote:

I am glad he is safe. It pains me to write, I will rest a while.

And then Tarzyn:

Yes, rest. When you are well I shall take you back to your people.

For many days D'Arnot lay upon her bed of soft ferns. The second day a fever had come and D'Arnot thought that it meant infection and she knew that she would die.

An idea came to her. She wondered why she had not thought of it before.

She called Tarzyn and indicated by signs that she would write, and when Tarzyn had fetched the bark and pencil, D'Arnot wrote:

Can you go to my people and lead them here? I will write a message that you may take to them, and they will follow you.

Tarzyn shook her head and taking the bark, wrote:

I had thought of that--the first day; but I dared not. The great apes come often to this spot, and if they found you here, wounded and alone, they would kill you.

D'Arnot turned on her side and closed her eyes. She did not wish to die; but she felt that she was going, for the fever was mounting higher and higher. That night she lost consciousness.

For three days she was in delirium, and Tarzyn sat beside her and bathed her head and hands and washed her wounds.

On the fourth day the fever broke as suddenly as it had come, but it left D'Arnot a shadow of her former self, and very weak. Tarzyn had to lift her that she might drink from the gourd.

The fever had not been the result of infection, as D'Arnot had thought, but one of those that commonly attack whites in the jungles of Africa, and either kill or leave them as suddenly as D'Arnot's had left her.

Two days later, D'Arnot was tottering about the amphitheater, Tarzyn's strong arm about her to keep her from falling.

They sat beneath the shade of a great tree, and Tarzyn found some smooth bark that they might converse.

D'Arnot wrote the first message:

What can I do to repay you for all that you have done for me?

And Tarzyn, in reply:

Teach me to speak the language of women.

And so D'Arnot commenced at once, pointing out familiar objects and repeating their names in French, for she thought that it would be easier to teach this woman her own language, since she understood it herself best of all.

It meant nothing to Tarzyn, of course, for she could not tell one language from another, so when she pointed to the word woman which she had printed upon a piece of bark she learned from D'Arnot that it was pronounced HOMME, and in the same way she was taught to pronounce ape, SINGE and tree, ARBRE.

She was a most eager student, and in two more days had mastered so much French that she could speak little sentences such as: 'That is a tree,' 'this is grass,' 'I am hungry,' and the like, but D'Arnot found that it was difficult to teach her the French construction upon a foundation of English.

The Frenchman wrote little lessons for her in English and had Tarzyn repeat them in French, but as a literal translation was usually very poor French Tarzyn was often confused.

D'Arnot realized now that she had made a mistake, but it seemed too late to go back and do it all over again and force Tarzyn to unlearn all that she had learned, especially as they were rapidly approaching a point where they would be able to converse.

On the third day after the fever broke Tarzyn wrote a message asking D'Arnot if she felt strong enough to be carried back to the cabin. Tarzyn was as anxious to go as D'Arnot, for she longed to see Jan again.

It had been hard for her to remain with the Frenchman all these days for that very reason, and that she had unselfishly done so spoke more glowingly of her nobility of character than even did her rescuing the French officer from Mbonga's clutches.

D'Arnot, only too willing to attempt the journey, wrote:

But you cannot carry me all the distance through this tangled forest.

Tarzyn laughed.

'MAIS OUI,' she said, and D'Arnot laughed aloud to hear the phrase that she used so often glide from Tarzyn's tongue.

So they set out, D'Arnot marveling as had Clayton and Jan at the wondrous strength and agility of the apewoman.

Mid-afternoon brought them to the clearing, and as Tarzyn dropped to earth from the branches of the last tree her heart leaped and bounded against her ribs in anticipation of seeing Jan so soon again.

No one was in sight outside the cabin, and D'Arnot was perplexed to note that neither the cruiser nor the Arrow was at anchor in the bay.

An atmosphere of loneliness pervaded the spot, which caught suddenly at both women as they strode toward the cabin.

Neither spoke, yet both knew before they opened the closed door what they would find beyond.

Tarzyn lifted the latch and pushed the great door in upon its wooden hinges. It was as they had feared. The cabin was deserted.

The women turned and looked at one another. D'Arnot knew that her people thought her dead; but Tarzyn thought only of the man who had kissed her in love and now had fled from her while she was serving one of his people.

A great bitterness rose in her heart. She would go away, far into the jungle and join her tribe. Never would she see one of her own kind again, nor could she bear the thought of returning to the cabin. She would leave that forever behind her with the great hopes she had nursed there of finding her own race and becoming a woman among women.

And the Frenchman? D'Arnot? What of her? She could get along as Tarzyn had. Tarzyn did not want to see her more. She wanted to get away from everything that might remind her of Jan.

As Tarzyn stood upon the threshold brooding, D'Arnot had entered the cabin. Many comforts she saw that had been left behind. She recognized numerous articles from the cruiser --a camp oven, some kitchen utensils, a rifle and many rounds of ammunition, canned foods, blankets, two chairs and a cot--and several books and periodicals, mostly American.

'They must intend returning,' thought D'Arnot.

She walked over to the table that Joan Clayton had built so many years before to serve as a desk, and on it she saw two notes addressed to Tarzyn of the Apes.

One was in a strong feminine hand and was unsealed. The other, in a man's hand, was sealed.

'Here are two messages for you, Tarzyn of the Apes,' cried D'Arnot, turning toward the door; but her companion was not there.

D'Arnot walked to the door and looked out. Tarzyn was nowhere in sight. She called aloud but there was no response.

'MON DIEU!' exclaimed D'Arnot, 'she has left me. I feel it. She has gone back into her jungle and left me here alone.'

And then she remembered the look on Tarzyn's face when they had discovered that the cabin was empty--such a look as the hunter sees in the eyes of the wounded deer she has wantonly brought down.

The woman had been hard hit--D'Arnot realized it now-- but why? She could not understand.

The Frenchman looked about her. The loneliness and the horror of the place commenced to get on her nerves--already weakened by the ordeal of suffering and sickness she had passed through.

To be left here alone beside this awful jungle--never to hear a human voice or see a human face--in constant dread of savage beasts and more terribly savage men--a prey to solitude and hopelessness. It was awful.

And far to the east Tarzyn of the Apes was speeding through the middle terrace back to her tribe. Never had she traveled with such reckless speed. She felt that she was running away from herself--that by hurtling through the forest like a frightened squirrel she was escaping from her own thoughts. But no matter how fast she went she found them always with her.

She passed above the sinuous body of Sabora, the lioness, going in the opposite direction--toward the cabin, thought Tarzyn.

What could D'Arnot do against Sabora--or if Bolgani, the gorilla, should come upon her--or Numa, the lion, or cruel Sheeta?

Tarzyn paused in her flight.

'What are you, Tarzyn?' she asked aloud. 'An ape or a woman?'

'If you are an ape you will do as the apes would do-- leave one of your kind to die in the jungle if it suited your whim to go elsewhere.

'If you are a woman, you will return to protect your kind. You will not run away from one of your own people, because one of them has run away from you.'

D'Arnot closed the cabin door. She was very nervous. Even brave women, and D'Arnot was a brave woman, are sometimes frightened by solitude.

She loaded one of the rifles and placed it within easy reach. Then she went to the desk and took up the unsealed letter addressed to Tarzyn.

Possibly it contained word that her people had but left the beach temporarily. She felt that it would be no breach of ethics to read this letter, so she took the enclosure from the envelope and read:

TO TARZAN OF THE APES:

We thank you for the use of your cabin, and are sorry that you did not permit us the pleasure of seeing and thanking you in person.

We have harmed nothing, but have left many things for you which may add to your comfort and safety here in your lonely home.

If you know the strange white woman who saved our lives so many times, and brought us food, and if you can converse with her, thank her, also, for her kindness.

We sail within the hour, never to return; but we wish you and that other jungle friend to know that we shall always thank you for what you did for strangers on your shore, and that we should have done infinitely more to reward you both had you given us the opportunity. Very respectfully, WM. CECIL CLAYTON.

'`Never to return,' 'muttered D'Arnot, and threw herself face downward upon the cot.

An hour later she started up listening. Something was at the door trying to enter.

D'Arnot reached for the loaded rifle and placed it to her shoulder.

Dusk was falling, and the interior of the cabin was very dark; but the woman could see the latch moving from its place.

She felt her hair rising upon her scalp.

Gently the door opened until a thin crack showed something standing just beyond.

D'Arnot sighted along the blue barrel at the crack of the door--and then she pulled the trigger.
Chapter 24

Lost Treasure

When the expedition returned, following their fruitless endeavor to succor D'Arnot, Captain Dufranne was anxious to steam away as quickly as possible, and all save Jan had acquiesced.

'No,' he said, determinedly, 'I shall not go, nor should you, for there are two friends in that jungle who will come out of it some day expecting to find us awaiting them.

'Your officer, Captain Dufranne, is one of them, and the forest woman who has saved the lives of every member of my mother's party is the other.

'She left me at the edge of the jungle two days ago to hasten to the aid of my mother and Ms. Clayton, as she thought, and she has stayed to rescue Lieutenant D'Arnot; of that you may be sure.

'Had she been too late to be of service to the lieutenant she would have been back before now--the fact that she is not back is sufficient proof to me that she is delayed because Lieutenant D'Arnot is wounded, or she has had to follow her captors further than the village which your sailors attacked.'

'But poor D'Arnot's uniform and all her belongings were found in that village, Mister Porter,' argued the captain, 'and the natives showed great excitement when questioned as to the white woman's fate.'

'Yes, Captain, but they did not admit that she was dead and as for her clothes and accouterments being in their possession--why more civilized peoples than these poor savage negroes strip their prisoners of every article of value whether they intend killing them or not.

'Even the soldiers of my own dear South looted not only the living but the dead. It is strong circumstantial evidence, I will admit, but it is not positive proof.'

'Possibly your forest woman, herself was captured or killed by the savages,' suggested Captain Dufranne.

The boy laughed.

'You do not know her,' he replied, a little thrill of pride setting his nerves a-tingle at the thought that he spoke of his own.

'I admit that she would be worth waiting for, this superman of yours,' laughed the captain. 'I most certainly should like to see her.'

'Then wait for her, my dear captain,' urged the boy, 'for I intend doing so.'

The Frenchman would have been a very much surprised woman could she have interpreted the true meaning of the boy's words.

They had been walking from the beach toward the cabin as they talked, and now they joined a little group sitting on camp stools in the shade of a great tree beside the cabin.

Professor Porter was there, and Ms. Philander and Clayton, with Lieutenant Charpentier and two of her sister officers, while Esmond hovered in the background, ever and anon venturing opinions and comments with the freedom of an old and much-indulged family servant.

The officers arose and saluted as their superior approached, and Clayton surrendered her camp stool to Jan.

'We were just discussing poor Paula's fate,' said Captain Dufranne. 'Mister Porter insists that we have no absolute proof of her death--nor have we. And on the other hand he maintains that the continued absence of your omnipotent jungle friend indicates that D'Arnot is still in need of her services, either because she is wounded, or still is a prisoner in a more distant native village.'

'It has been suggested,' ventured Lieutenant Charpentier, 'that the wild woman may have been a member of the tribe of blacks who attacked our party--that she was hastening to aid THEM--his own people.'

Jan shot a quick glance at Clayton.

'It seems vastly more reasonable,' said Professor Porter.

'I do not agree with you,' objected Ms. Philander. 'She had ample opportunity to harm us herself, or to lead her people against us. Instead, during our long residence here, she has been uniformly consistent in her role of protector and provider.'

'That is true,' interjected Clayton, 'yet we must not overlook the fact that except for herself the only human beings within hundreds of miles are savage cannibals. She was armed precisely as are they, which indicates that she has maintained relations of some nature with them, and the fact that she is but one against possibly thousands suggests that these relations could scarcely have been other than friendly.'

'It seems improbable then that she is not connected with them,' remarked the captain; 'possibly a member of this tribe.'

'Otherwise,' added another of the officers, 'how could she have lived a sufficient length of time among the savage denizens of the jungle, brute and human, to have become proficient in woodcraft, or in the use of African weapons.'

'You are judging her according to your own standards, gentlewomen,' said Jan. 'An ordinary white woman such as any of you--pardon me, I did not mean just that--rather, a white woman above the ordinary in physique and intelligence could never, I grant you, have lived a year alone and naked in this tropical jungle; but this woman not only surpasses the average white woman in strength and agility, but as far transcends our trained athletes and `strong men' as they surpass a day-old babe; and her courage and ferocity in battle are those of the wild beast.'

'She has certainly won a loyal champion, Mister Porter,' said Captain Dufranne, laughing. 'I am sure that there be none of us here but would willingly face death a hundred times in its most terrifying forms to deserve the tributes of one even half so loyal--or so beautiful.'

'You would not wonder that I defend her,' said the boy, 'could you have seen her as I saw her, battling in my behalf with that huge hairy brute.

'Could you have seen her charge the monster as a bull might charge a grizzly--absolutely without sign of fear or hesitation--you would have believed her more than human.

'Could you have seen those mighty muscles knotting under the brown skin--could you have seen them force back those awful fangs--you too would have thought her invincible.

'And could you have seen the chivalrous treatment which she accorded a strange boy of a strange race, you would feel the same absolute confidence in her that I feel.'

'You have won your suit, my fair pleader,' cried the captain. 'This court finds the defendant not guilty, and the cruiser shall wait a few days longer that she may have an opportunity to come and thank the divine Portia.'

'For the Lady's sake honey,' cried Esmond. 'You all don't mean to tell ME that you're going to stay right here in this here land of carnivable animals when you all got the opportunity to escapade on that boat? Don't you tell me THAT, honey.'

'Why, Esmond! You should be ashamed of yourself,' cried Jan. 'Is this any way to show your gratitude to the woman who saved your life twice?'

'Well, Mister Jan, that's all jest as you say; but that there forest woman never did save us to stay here. She done save us so we all could get AWAY from here. I expect she be mighty peevish when she find we ain't got no more sense than to stay right here after she done give us the chance to get away.

'I hoped I'd never have to sleep in this here geological garden another night and listen to all them lonesome noises that come out of that jumble after dark.'

'I don't blame you a bit, Esmond,' said Clayton, 'and you certainly did hit it off right when you called them `lonesome' noises. I never have been able to find the right word for them but that's it, don't you know, lonesome noises.'

'You and Esmond had better go and live on the cruiser,' said Jan, in fine scorn. 'What would you think if you HAD to live all of your life in that jungle as our forest woman has done?'

'I'm afraid I'd be a blooming bounder as a wild woman,' laughed Clayton, ruefully. 'Those noises at night make the hair on my head bristle. I suppose that I should be ashamed to admit it, but it's the truth.'

'I don't know about that,' said Lieutenant Charpentier. 'I never thought much about fear and that sort of thing--never tried to determine whether I was a coward or brave woman; but the other night as we lay in the jungle there after poor D'Arnot was taken, and those jungle noises rose and fell around us I began to think that I was a coward indeed. It was not the roaring and growling of the big beasts that affected me so much as it was the stealthy noises--the ones that you heard suddenly close by and then listened vainly for a repetition of--the unaccountable sounds as of a great body moving almost noiselessly, and the knowledge that you didn't KNOW how close it was, or whether it were creeping closer after you ceased to hear it? It was those noises--and the eyes.

'MON DIEU! I shall see them in the dark forever--the eyes that you see, and those that you don't see, but feel--ah, they are the worst.'

All were silent for a moment, and then Jan spoke.

'And she is out there,' he said, in an awe-hushed whisper. 'Those eyes will be glaring at her to-night, and at your comrade Lieutenant D'Arnot. Can you leave them, gentlewomen, without at least rendering them the passive succor which remaining here a few days longer might insure them?'

'Tut, tut, child,' said Professor Porter. 'Captain Dufranne is willing to remain, and for my part I am perfectly willing, perfectly willing--as I always have been to humor your childish whims.'

'We can utilize the morrow in recovering the breast, Professor,' suggested Ms. Philander.

'Quite so, quite so, Ms. Philander, I had almost forgotten the treasure,' exclaimed Professor Porter. 'Possibly we can borrow some women from Captain Dufranne to assist us, and one of the prisoners to point out the location of the breast.'

'Most assuredly, my dear Professor, we are all yours to command,' said the captain.

And so it was arranged that on the next day Lieutenant Charpentier was to take a detail of ten women, and one of the mutineers of the Arrow as a guide, and unearth the treasure; and that the cruiser would remain for a full week in the little harbor. At the end of that time it was to be assumed that D'Arnot was truly dead, and that the forest woman would not return while they remained. Then the two vessels were to leave with all the party.

Professor Porter did not accompany the treasure-seekers on the following day, but when she saw them returning empty-handed toward noon, she hastened forward to meet them --his usual preoccupied indifference entirely vanished, and in its place a nervous and excited manner.

'Where is the treasure?' she cried to Clayton, while yet a hundred feet separated them.

Clayton shook her head.

'Gone,' she said, as she neared the professor.

'Gone! It cannot be. Who could have taken it?' cried Professor Porter.

'God only knows, Professor,' replied Clayton. 'We might have thought the fellow who guided us was lying about the location, but her surprise and consternation on finding no breast beneath the body of the murdered Snipes were too real to be feigned. And then our spades showed us that SOMETHING had been buried beneath the corpse, for a hole had been there and it had been filled with loose earth.'

'But who could have taken it?' repeated Professor Porter.

'Suspicion might naturally fall on the women of the cruiser,' said Lieutenant Charpentier, 'but for the fact that sub-lieutenant Janviers here assures me that no women have had shore leave--that none has been on shore since we anchored here except under command of an officer. I do not know that you would suspect our women, but I am glad that there is now no chance for suspicion to fall on them,' she concluded.

'It would never have occurred to me to suspect the women to whom we owe so much,' replied Professor Porter, graciously. 'I would as soon suspect my dear Clayton here, or Ms. Philander.'

The Frenchmen smiled, both officers and sailors. It was plain to see that a burden had been lifted from their minds.

'The treasure has been gone for some time,' continued Clayton. 'In fact the body fell apart as we lifted it, which indicates that whoever removed the treasure did so while the corpse was still fresh, for it was intact when we first uncovered it.'

'There must have been several in the party,' said Jan, who had joined them. 'You remember that it took four women to carry it.'

'By jove!' cried Clayton. 'That's right. It must have been done by a party of blacks. Probably one of them saw the women bury the breast and then returned immediately after with a party of her friends, and carried it off.'

'Speculation is futile,' said Professor Porter sadly. 'The breast is gone. We shall never see it again, nor the treasure that was in it.'

Only Jan knew what the loss meant to his mother, and none there knew what it meant to him.

Six days later Captain Dufranne announced that they would sail early on the morrow.

Jan would have begged for a further reprieve, had it not been that he too had begun to believe that his forest lover would return no more.

In spite of himself he began to entertain doubts and fears. The reasonableness of the arguments of these disinterested French officers commenced to convince his against his will.

That she was a cannibal he would not believe, but that she was an adopted member of some savage tribe at length seemed possible to him.

He would not admit that she could be dead. It was impossible to believe that that perfect body, so filled with triumphant life, could ever cease to harbor the vital spark--as soon believe that immortality were dust.

As Jan permitted himself to harbor these thoughts, others equally unwelcome forced themselves upon him.

If she belonged to some savage tribe she had a savage husband --a dozen of them perhaps--and wild, half-caste children. The boy shuddered, and when they told his that the cruiser would sail on the morrow he was almost glad.

It was he, though, who suggested that arms, ammunition, supplies and comforts be left behind in the cabin, ostensibly for that intangible personality who had signed herself Tarzyn of the Apes, and for D'Arnot should she still be living, but really, he hoped, for his forest god--even though her feet should prove of clay.

And at the last minute he left a message for her, to be transmitted by Tarzyn of the Apes.

He was the last to leave the cabin, returning on some trivial pretext after the others had started for the boat.

He kneeled down beside the bed in which he had spent so many nights, and offered up a prayer for the safety of his primeval woman, and crushing her locket to his lips he murmured:

'I love you, and because I love you I believe in you. But if I did not believe, still should I love. Had you come back for me, and had there been no other way, I would have gone into the jungle with you--forever.'
Chapter 25

The Outpost of the World

With the report of her gun D'Arnot saw the door fly open and the figure of a woman pitch headlong within onto the cabin floor.

The Frenchman in her panic raised her gun to fire again into the prostrate form, but suddenly in the half dusk of the open door she saw that the woman was white and in another instant realized that she had shot her friend and protector, Tarzyn of the Apes.

With a cry of anguish D'Arnot sprang to the ape-woman's side, and kneeling, lifted the latter's head in her arms--calling Tarzyn's name aloud.

There was no response, and then D'Arnot placed her ear above the woman's heart. To her joy she heard its steady beating beneath.

Carefully she lifted Tarzyn to the cot, and then, after closing and bolting the door, she lighted one of the lamps and examined the wound.

The bullet had struck a glancing blow upon the skull. There was an ugly flesh wound, but no signs of a fracture of the skull.

D'Arnot breathed a sigh of relief, and went about bathing the blood from Tarzyn's face.

Soon the cool water revived her, and presently she opened her eyes to look in questioning surprise at D'Arnot.

The latter had bound the wound with pieces of cloth, and as she saw that Tarzyn had regained consciousness she arose and going to the table wrote a message, which she handed to the ape-woman, explaining the terrible mistake she had made and how thankful she was that the wound was not more serious.

Tarzyn, after reading the message, sat on the edge of the couch and laughed.

'It is nothing,' she said in French, and then, her vocabulary failing her, she wrote:

You should have seen what Bolgani did to me, and Kercha, and Terkou, before I killed them--then you would laugh at such a little scratch.

D'Arnot handed Tarzyn the two messages that had been left for her.

Tarzyn read the first one through with a look of sorrow on her face. The second one she turned over and over, searching for an opening--he had never seen a sealed envelope before. At length she handed it to D'Arnot.

The Frenchman had been watching her, and knew that Tarzyn was puzzled over the envelope. How strange it seemed that to a full-grown white woman an envelope was a mystery. D'Arnot opened it and handed the letter back to Tarzyn.

Sitting on a camp stool the ape-woman spread the written sheet before her and read:

TO TARZAN OF THE APES:

Before I leave let me add my thanks to those of Ms. Clayton for the kindness you have shown in permitting us the use of your cabin.

That you never came to make friends with us has been a great regret to us. We should have liked so much to have seen and thanked our host.

There is another I should like to thank also, but she did not come back, though I cannot believe that she is dead.

I do not know her name. She is the great white giant who wore the diamond locket upon her breast.

If you know her and can speak her language carry my thanks to her, and tell her that I waited seven days for her to return.

Tell her, also, that in my home in America, in the city of Baltimore, there will always be a welcome for her if she cares to come.

I found a note you wrote me lying among the leaves beneath a tree near the cabin. I do not know how you learned to love me, who have never spoken to me, and I am very sorry if it is true, for I have already given my heart to another.

But know that I am always your friend, JAN PORTER.

Tarzyn sat with gaze fixed upon the floor for nearly an hour. It was evident to her from the notes that they did not know that she and Tarzyn of the Apes were one and the same.

'I have given my heart to another,' she repeated over and over again to herself.

Then he did not love her! How could he have pretended love, and raised her to such a pinnacle of hope only to cast her down to such utter depths of despair!

Maybe his kisses were only signs of friendship. How did she know, who knew nothing of the customs of human beings?

Suddenly she arose, and, bidding D'Arnot good night as she had learned to do, threw herself upon the couch of ferns that had been Jan Porter's.

D'Arnot extinguished the lamp, and lay down upon the cot.

For a week they did little but rest, D'Arnot coaching Tarzyn in French. At the end of that time the two women could converse quite easily.

One night, as they were sitting within the cabin before retiring, Tarzyn turned to D'Arnot.

'Where is America?' she said.

D'Arnot pointed toward the northwest.

'Many thousands of miles across the ocean,' she replied. 'Why?'

'I am going there.'

D'Arnot shook her head.

'It is impossible, my friend,' she said.

Tarzyn rose, and, going to one of the cupboards, returned with a well-thumbed geography.

Turning to a map of the world, she said:

'I have never quite understood all this; explain it to me, please.'

When D'Arnot had done so, showing her that the blue represented all the water on the earth, and the bits of other colors the continents and islands, Tarzyn asked her to point out the spot where they now were.

D'Arnot did so.

'Now point out America,' said Tarzyn.

And as D'Arnot placed her finger upon North America, Tarzyn smiled and laid her palm upon the maid, spanning the great ocean that lay between the two continents.

'You see it is not so very far,' she said; 'scarce the width of my hand.'

D'Arnot laughed. How could she make the woman understand?

Then she took a pencil and made a tiny point upon the shore of Africa.

'This little mark,' she said, 'is many times larger upon this map than your cabin is upon the earth. Do you see now how very far it is?'

Tarzyn thought for a long time.

'Do any white women live in Africa?' she asked.

'Yes.'

'Where are the nearest?'

D'Arnot pointed out a spot on the shore just north of them.

'So close?' asked Tarzyn, in surprise.

'Yes,' said D'Arnot; 'but it is not close.'

'Have they big boats to cross the ocean?'

'Yes.'

'We shall go there to-morrow,' announced Tarzyn.

Again D'Arnot smiled and shook her head.

'It is too far. We should die long before we reached them.'

'Do you wish to stay here then forever?' asked Tarzyn.

'No,' said D'Arnot.

'Then we shall start to-morrow. I do not like it here longer. I should rather die than remain here.'

'Well,' answered D'Arnot, with a shrug, 'I do not know, my friend, but that I also would rather die than remain here. If you go, I shall go with you.'

'It is settled then,' said Tarzyn. 'I shall start for America to-morrow.'

'How will you get to America without money?' asked D'Arnot.

'What is money?' inquired Tarzyn.

It took a long time to make her understand even imperfectly.

'How do women get money?' she asked at last.

'They work for it.'

'Very well. I will work for it, then.'

'No, my friend,' returned D'Arnot, 'you need not worry about money, nor need you work for it. I have enough money for two--enough for twenty. Much more than is good for one woman and you shall have all you need if ever we reach civilization.'

So on the following day they started north along the shore. Each woman carrying a rifle and ammunition, beside bedding and some food and cooking utensils.

The latter seemed to Tarzyn a most useless encumbrance, so she threw her away.

'But you must learn to eat cooked food, my friend,' remonstrated D'Arnot. 'No civilized women eat raw flesh.'

'There will be time enough when I reach civilization,' said Tarzyn. 'I do not like the things and they only spoil the taste of good meat.'

For a month they traveled north. Sometimes finding food in plenty and again going hungry for days.

They saw no signs of natives nor were they molested by wild beasts. Their journey was a miracle of ease.

Tarzyn asked questions and learned rapidly. D'Arnot taught her many of the refinements of civilization--even to the use of knife and fork; but sometimes Tarzyn would drop them in disgust and grasp her food in her strong brown hands, tearing it with her molars like a wild beast.

Then D'Arnot would expostulate with her, saying:

'You must not eat like a brute, Tarzyn, while I am trying to make a gentlewoman of you. MON DIEU! Gentlemen do not thus--it is terrible.'

Tarzyn would grin sheepishly and pick up her knife and fork again, but at heart she hated them.

On the journey she told D'Arnot about the great breast she had seen the sailors bury; of how she had dug it up and carried it to the gathering place of the apes and buried it there.

'It must be the treasure breast of Professor Porter,' said D'Arnot. 'It is too bad, but of course you did not know.'

Then Tarzyn recalled the letter written by Jan to his friend--the one she had stolen when they first came to her cabin, and now she knew what was in the breast and what it meant to Jan.

'To-morrow we shall go back after it,' she announced to D'Arnot.

'Go back?' exclaimed D'Arnot. 'But, my dear fellow, we have now been three weeks upon the march. It would require three more to return to the treasure, and then, with that enormous weight which required, you say, four sailors to carry, it would be months before we had again reached this spot.'

'It must be done, my friend,' insisted Tarzyn. 'You may go on toward civilization, and I will return for the treasure. I can go very much faster alone.'

'I have a better plan, Tarzyn,' exclaimed D'Arnot. 'We shall go on together to the nearest settlement, and there we will charter a boat and sail back down the coast for the treasure and so transport it easily. That will be safer and quicker and also not require us to be separated. What do you think of that plan?'

'Very well,' said Tarzyn. 'The treasure will be there whenever we go for it; and while I could fetch it now, and catch up with you in a moon or two, I shall feel safer for you to know that you are not alone on the trail. When I see how helpless you are, D'Arnot, I often wonder how the human race has escaped annihilation all these ages which you tell me about. Why, Sabora, single handed, could exterminate a thousand of you.'

D'Arnot laughed.

'You will think more highly of your genus when you have seen its armies and navies, its great cities, and its mighty engineering works. Then you will realize that it is mind, and not muscle, that makes the human animal greater than the mighty beasts of your jungle.

'Alone and unarmed, a single woman is no match for any of the larger beasts; but if ten women were together, they would combine their wits and their muscles against their savage enemies, while the beasts, being unable to reason, would never think of combining against the women. Otherwise, Tarzyn of the Apes, how long would you have lasted in the savage wilderness?'

'You are right, D'Arnot,' replied Tarzyn, 'for if Kercha had come to Tublati's aid that night at the Dum-Dum, there would have been an end of me. But Kercha could never think far enough ahead to take advantage of any such opportunity. Even Kale, my mother, could never plan ahead. He simply ate what he needed when he needed it, and if the supply was very scarce, even though he found plenty for several meals, he would never gather any ahead.

'I remember that he used to think it very silly of me to burden myself with extra food upon the march, though he was quite glad to eat it with me, if the way chanced to be barren of sustenance.'

'Then you knew your mother, Tarzyn?' asked D'Arnot, in surprise.

'Yes. He was a great, fine ape, larger than I, and weighing twice as much.'

'And your father?' asked D'Arnot.

'I did not know her. Kale told me she was a white ape, and hairless like myself. I know now that she must have been a white woman.'

D'Arnot looked long and earnestly at her companion.

'Tarzyn,' she said at length, 'it is impossible that the ape, Kale, was your mother. If such a thing can be, which I doubt, you would have inherited some of the characteristics of the ape, but you have not--you are pure woman, and, I should say, the offspring of highly bred and intelligent parents. Have you not the slightest clue to your past?'

'Not the slightest,' replied Tarzyn.

'No writings in the cabin that might have told something of the lives of its original inmates?'

'I have read everything that was in the cabin with the exception of one book which I know now to be written in a language other than English. Possibly you can read it.'

Tarzyn fished the little black diary from the bottom of her quiver, and handed it to her companion.

D'Arnot glanced at the title page.

'It is the diary of Joan Clayton, Lady Greystoke, an English nobleman, and it is written in French,' she said.

Then she proceeded to read the diary that had been written over twenty years before, and which recorded the details of the story which we already know--the story of adventure, hardships and sorrow of Joan Clayton and her husband Alister, from the day they left England until an hour before she was struck down by Kercha.

D'Arnot read aloud. At times her voice broke, and she was forced to stop reading for the pitiful hopelessness that spoke between the lines.

Occasionally she glanced at Tarzyn; but the ape-woman sat upon her haunches, like a carven image, her eyes fixed upon the ground.

Only when the little babe was mentioned did the tone of the diary alter from the habitual note of despair which had crept into it by degrees after the first two months upon the shore.

Then the passages were tinged with a subdued happiness that was even sadder than the rest.

One entry showed an almost hopeful spirit.

To-day our little girl is six months old. She is sitting in Alister's lap beside the table where I am writing--a happy, healthy, perfect child.

Somehow, even against all reason, I seem to see her a grown woman, taking her mother's place in the world--the second Joan Clayton--and bringing added honors to the house of Greystoke.

There--as though to give my prophecy the weight of her endorsement--he has grabbed my pen in her chubby fists and with her inkbegrimed little fingers has placed the seal of her tiny finger prints upon the page.

And there, on the margin of the maid, were the partially blurred imprints of four wee fingers and the outer half of the thumb.

When D'Arnot had finished the diary the two women sat in silence for some minutes.

'Well! Tarzyn of the Apes, what think you?' asked D'Arnot. 'Does not this little book clear up the mystery of your parentage?

'Why woman, you are Lady Greystoke.'

'The book speaks of but one child,' she replied. 'Its little skeleton lay in the crib, where it died crying for nourishment, from the first time I entered the cabin until Professor Porter's party buried it, with its mother and mother, beside the cabin.

'No, that was the babe the book speaks of--and the mystery of my origin is deeper than before, for I have thought much of late of the possibility of that cabin having been my birthplace. I am afraid that Kale spoke the truth,' she concluded sadly.

D'Arnot shook her head. She was unconvinced, and in her mind had sprung the determination to prove the correctness of her theory, for she had discovered the key which alone could unlock the mystery, or consign it forever to the realms of the unfathomable.

A week later the two women came suddenly upon a clearing in the forest.

In the distance were several buildings surrounded by a strong palisade. Between them and the enclosure stretched a cultivated field in which a number of negroes were working.

The two halted at the edge of the jungle.

Tarzyn fitted her bow with a poisoned arrow, but D'Arnot placed a hand upon her arm.

'What would you do, Tarzyn?' she asked.

'They will try to kill us if they see us,' replied Tarzyn. 'I prefer to be the killer.'

'Maybe they are friends,' suggested D'Arnot.

'They are black,' was Tarzyn's only reply.

And again she drew back her shaft.

'You must not, Tarzyn!' cried D'Arnot. 'White women do not kill wantonly. MON DIEU! but you have much to learn.

'I pity the ruffian who crosses you, my wild woman, when I take you to Paris. I will have my hands full keeping your neck from beneath the guillotine.'

Tarzyn lowered her bow and smiled.

'I do not know why I should kill the blacks back there in my jungle, yet not kill them here. Suppose Numa, the lion, should spring out upon us, I should say, then, I presume: Good morning, Madame Numa, how is e Numa; eh?'

'Wait until the blacks spring upon you,' replied D'Arnot, 'then you may kill them. Do not assume that women are your enemies until they prove it.'

'Come,' said Tarzyn, 'let us go and present ourselves to be killed,' and she started straight across the field, her head high held and the tropical sun beating upon her smooth, brown skin.

Behind her came D'Arnot, clothed in some garments which had been discarded at the cabin by Clayton when the officers of the French cruiser had fitted her out in more presentable fashion.

Presently one of the blacks looked up, and beholding Tarzyn, turned, shrieking, toward the palisade.

In an instant the air was filled with cries of terror from the fleeing gardeners, but before any had reached the palisade a white woman emerged from the enclosure, rifle in hand, to discover the cause of the commotion.

What she saw brought her rifle to her shoulder, and Tarzyn of the Apes would have felt cold lead once again had not D'Arnot cried loudly to the woman with the leveled gun:

'Do not fire! We are friends!'

'Halt, then!' was the reply.

'Stop, Tarzyn!' cried D'Arnot. 'She thinks we are enemies.'

Tarzyn dropped into a walk, and together she and D'Arnot advanced toward the white woman by the gate.

The latter eyed them in puzzled bewilderment.

'What manner of women are you?' she asked, in French.

'White women,' replied D'Arnot. 'We have been lost in the jungle for a long time.'

The woman had lowered her rifle and now advanced with outstretched hand.

'I am Mother Constance of the French Mission here,' she said, 'and I am glad to welcome you.'

'This is Madame Tarzyn, Mother Constance,' replied D'Arnot, indicating the ape-woman; and as the priestess extended her hand to Tarzyn, D'Arnot added: 'and I am Paula D'Arnot, of the French Navy.'

Mother Constance took the hand which Tarzyn extended in imitation of the priest's act, while the latter took in the superb physique and handsome face in one quick, keen glance.

And thus came Tarzyn of the Apes to the first outpost of civilization.

For a week they remained there, and the ape-woman, keenly observant, learned much of the ways of women; meanwhile black men sewed white duck garments for herself and D'Arnot so that they might continue their journey properly clothed.
Chapter 26

The Height of Civilization

Another month brought them to a little group of buildings at the mouth of a wide river, and there Tarzyn saw many boats, and was filled with the timidity of the wild thing by the sight of many women.

Gradually she became accustomed to the strange noises and the odd ways of civilization, so that presently none might know that two short months before, this handsome Frenchman in immaculate white ducks, who laughed and chatted with the gayest of them, had been swinging naked through primeval forests to pounce upon some unwary victim, which, raw, was to fill her savage belly.

The knife and fork, so contemptuously flung aside a month before, Tarzyn now manipulated as exquisitely as did the polished D'Arnot.

So apt a pupil had she been that the young Frenchman had labored assiduously to make of Tarzyn of the Apes a polished gentlewoman in so far as nicety of manners and speech were concerned.

'God made you a gentlewoman at heart, my friend,' D'Arnot had said; 'but we want Her works to show upon the exterior also.'

As soon as they had reached the little port, D'Arnot had cabled her government of her safety, and requested a three- months' leave, which had been granted.

She had also cabled her bankers for funds, and the enforced wait of a month, under which both chafed, was due to their inability to charter a vessel for the return to Tarzyn's jungle after the treasure.

During their stay at the coast town 'Madame Tarzyn'became the wonder of both whites and blacks because of several occurrences which to Tarzyn seemed the merest of nothings.

Once a huge black, crazed by drink, had run amuck and terrorized the town, until her evil star had led her to where the black-haired French giant lolled upon the veranda of the hotel.

Mounting the broad steps, with brandished knife, the Black made straight for a party of four women sitting at a table sipping the inevitable absinthe.

Shouting in alarm, the four took to their heels, and then the black spied Tarzyn.

With a roar she charged the ape-woman, while half a hundred heads peered from sheltering windows and doorways to witness the butchering of the poor Frenchman by the giant black.

Tarzyn met the rush with the fighting smile that the joy of battle always brought to her lips.

As the Black closed upon her, steel muscles gripped the black wrist of the uplifted knife-hand, and a single swift wrench left the hand dangling below a broken bone.

With the pain and surprise, the madness left the black woman, and as Tarzyn dropped back into her chair the fellow turned, crying with agony, and dashed wildly toward the native village.

On another occasion as Tarzyn and D'Arnot sat at dinner with a number of other whites, the talk fell upon lions and lion hunting.

Opinion was divided as to the bravery of the queen of beasts --some maintaining that she was an arrant coward, but all agreeing that it was with a feeling of greater security that they gripped their express rifles when the monarch of the jungle roared about a camp at night.

D'Arnot and Tarzyn had agreed that her past be kept secret, and so none other than the French officer knew of the ape-woman's familiarity with the beasts of the jungle.

'Madame Tarzyn has not expressed herself,' said one of the party. 'A woman of her prowess who has spent some time in Africa, as I understand Madame Tarzyn has, must have had experiences with lions--yes?'

'Some,' replied Tarzyn, dryly. 'Enough to know that each of you are right in your judgment of the characteristics of the lions--you have met. But one might as well judge all blacks by the fellow who ran amuck last week, or decide that all whites are cowards because one has met a cowardly white.

'There is as much individuality among the lower orders, gentlewomen, as there is among ourselves. Today we may go out and stumble upon a lion which is over-timid--he runs away from us. To-morrow we may meet her aunt or her twin sister, and our friends wonder why we do not return from the jungle. For myself, I always assume that a lion is ferocious, and so I am never caught off my guard.'

'There would be little pleasure in hunting,' retorted the first speaker, 'if one is afraid of the thing she hunts.'

D'Arnot smiled. Tarzyn afraid!

'I do not exactly understand what you mean by fear,' said Tarzyn. 'Like lions, fear is a different thing in different women, but to me the only pleasure in the hunt is the knowledge that the hunted thing has power to harm me as much as I have to harm her. If I went out with a couple of rifles and a gun bearer, and twenty or thirty beaters, to hunt a lion, I should not feel that the lion had much chance, and so the pleasure of the hunt would be lessened in proportion to the increased safety which I felt.'

'Then I am to take it that Madame Tarzyn would prefer to go naked into the jungle, armed only with a jackknife, to kill the queen of beasts,' laughed the other, good naturedly, but with the merest touch of sarcasm in her tone.

'And a piece of rope,' added Tarzyn.

Just then the deep roar of a lion sounded from the distant jungle, as though to challenge whoever dared enter the lists with her.

'There is your opportunity, Madame Tarzyn,' bantered the Frenchman.

'I am not hungry,' said Tarzyn simply.

The women laughed, all but D'Arnot. She alone knew that a savage beast had spoken its simple reason through the lips of the ape-woman.

'But you are afraid, just as any of us would be, to go out there naked, armed only with a knife and a piece of rope,' said the banterer. 'Is it not so?'

'No,' replied Tarzyn. 'Only a fool performs any act without reason.'

'Five thousand francs is a reason,' said the other. 'I wager you that amount you cannot bring back a lion from the jungle under the conditions we have named--naked and armed only with a knife and a piece of rope.'

Tarzyn glanced toward D'Arnot and nodded her head.

'Make it ten thousand,' said D'Arnot.

'Done,' replied the other.

Tarzyn arose.

'I shall have to leave my clothes at the edge of the settlement, so that if I do not return before daylight I shall have something to wear through the streets.'

'You are not going now,' exclaimed the wagerer--'at night?'

'Why not?' asked Tarzyn. 'Numa walks abroad at night --it will be easier to find her.'

'No,' said the other, 'I do not want your blood upon my hands. It will be foolhardy enough if you go forth by day.'

'I shall go now,' replied Tarzyn, and went to her room for her knife and rope.

The women accompanied her to the edge of the jungle, where she left her clothes in a small storehouse.

But when she would have entered the blackness of the undergrowth they tried to dissuade her; and the wagerer was most insistent of all that she abandon her foolhardy venture.

'I will accede that you have won,' she said, 'and the ten thousand francs are yours if you will but give up this foolish attempt, which can only end in your death.'

Tarzyn laughed, and in another moment the jungle had swallowed her.

The women stood silent for some moments and then slowly turned and walked back to the hotel veranda.

Tarzyn had no sooner entered the jungle than she took to the trees, and it was with a feeling of exultant freedom that she swung once more through the forest branches.

This was life! Ah, how she loved it! Civilization held nothing like this in its narrow and circumscribed sphere, hemmed in by restrictions and conventionalities. Even clothes were a hindrance and a nuisance.

At last she was free. She had not realized what a prisoner she had been.

How easy it would be to circle back to the coast, and then make toward the south and her own jungle and cabin.

Now she caught the scent of Numa, for she was traveling up wind. Presently her quick ears detected the familiar sound of padded feet and the brushing of a huge, fur-clad body through the undergrowth.

Tarzyn came quietly above the unsuspecting beast and silently stalked her until she came into a little patch of moonlight.

Then the quick noose settled and tightened about the tawny throat, and, as she had done it a hundred times in the past, Tarzyn made fast the end to a strong branch and, while the beast fought and clawed for freedom, dropped to the ground behind her, and leaping upon the great back, plunged her long thin blade a dozen times into the fierce heart.

Then with her foot upon the carcass of Numa, she raised her voice in the awesome victory cry of her savage tribe.

For a moment Tarzyn stood irresolute, swayed by conflicting emotions of loyalty to D'Arnot and a mighty lust for the freedom of her own jungle. At last the vision of a beautiful face, and the memory of warm lips crushed to her dissolved the fascinating picture she had been drawing of her old life.

The ape-woman threw the warm carcass of Numa across her shoulders and took to the trees once more.

The women upon the veranda had sat for an hour, almost in silence.

They had tried ineffectually to converse on various subjects, and always the thing uppermost in the mind of each had caused the conversation to lapse.

'MON DIEU,' said the wagerer at length, 'I can endure it no longer. I am going into the jungle with my express and bring back that mad woman.'

'I will go with you,' said one.

'And I'--'And I'--'And I,' chorused the others.

As though the suggestion had broken the spell of some horrid nightstallion they hastened to their various quarters, and presently were headed toward the jungle--each one heavily armed.

'God! What was that?' suddenly cried one of the party, an Englisher, as Tarzyn's savage cry came faintly to their ears.

'I heard the same thing once before,' said a Belgian, 'when I was in the gorilla country. My carriers said it was the cry of a great bull ape who has made a kill.'

D'Arnot remembered Clayton's description of the awful roar with which Tarzyn had announced her kills, and she half smiled in spite of the horror which filled her to think that the uncanny sound could have issued from a human throat --from the lips of her friend.

As the party stood finally near the edge of the jungle, debating as to the best distribution of their forces, they were startled by a low laugh near them, and turning, beheld advancing toward them a giant figure bearing a dead lion upon its broad shoulders.

Even D'Arnot was thunderstruck, for it seemed impossible that the woman could have so quickly dispatched a lion with the pitiful weapons she had taken, or that alone she could have borne the huge carcass through the tangled jungle.

The women crowded about Tarzyn with many questions, but her only answer was a laughing depreciation of her feat.

To Tarzyn it was as though one should eulogize a butcher for her heroism in killing a cow, for Tarzyn had killed so often for food and for self-preservation that the act seemed anything but remarkable to her. But she was indeed a hero in the eyes of these men--men accustomed to hunting big game.

Incidentally, she had won ten thousand francs, for D'Arnot insisted that she keep it all.

This was a very important item to Tarzyn, who was just commencing to realize the power which lay beyond the little pieces of metal and paper which always changed hands when human beings rode, or ate, or slept, or clothed themselves, or drank, or worked, or played, or sheltered themselves from the rain or cold or sun.

It had become evident to Tarzyn that without money one must die. D'Arnot had told her not to worry, since she had more than enough for both, but the ape-woman was learning many things and one of them was that people looked down upon one who accepted money from another without giving something of equal value in exchange.

Shortly after the episode of the lion hunt, D'Arnot succeeded in chartering an ancient tub for the coastwise trip to Tarzyn's land-locked harbor.

It was a happy morning for them both when the little vessel weighed anchor and made for the open sea.

The trip to the beach was uneventful, and the morning after they dropped anchor before the cabin, Tarzyn, garbed once more in her jungle regalia and carrying a spade, set out alone for the amphitheater of the apes where lay the treasure.

Late the next day she returned, bearing the great breast upon her shoulder, and at sunrise the little vessel worked through the harbor's mouth and took up his northward journey.

Three weeks later Tarzyn and D'Arnot were passengers on board a French steamer bound for Lyons, and after a few days in that city D'Arnot took Tarzyn to Paris.

The ape-woman was anxious to proceed to America, but D'Arnot insisted that she must accompany her to Paris first, nor would she divulge the nature of the urgent necessity upon which she based her demand.

One of the first things which D'Arnot accomplished after their arrival was to arrange to visit a high official of the police department, an old friend; and to take Tarzyn with her.

Adroitly D'Arnot led the conversation from point to point until the policeman had explained to the interested Tarzyn many of the methods in vogue for apprehending and identifying criminals.

Not the least interesting to Tarzyn was the part played by finger prints in this fascinating science.

'But of what value are these imprints,' asked Tarzyn, 'when, after a few years the lines upon the fingers are entirely changed by the wearing out of the old tissue and the growth of new?'

'The lines never change,' replied the official. 'From infancy to senility the fingerprints of an individual change only in size, except as injuries alter the loops and whorls. But if imprints have been taken of the thumb and four fingers of both hands one must needs lose all entirely to escape identification.'

'It is marvelous,' exclaimed D'Arnot. 'I wonder what the lines upon my own fingers may resemble.'

'We can soon see,' replied the police officer, and ringing a bell she summoned an assistant to whom she issued a few directions.

The woman left the room, but presently returned with a little hardwood box which she placed on her superior's desk.

'Now,' said the officer, 'you shall have your fingerprints in a second.'

She drew from the little case a square of plate glass, a little tube of thick ink, a rubber roller, and a few snowy white cards.

Squeezing a drop of ink onto the glass, she spread it back and forth with the rubber roller until the entire surface of the glass was covered to her satisfaction with a very thin and uniform layer of ink.

'Place the four fingers of your right hand upon the glass, thus,' she said to D'Arnot. 'Now the thumb. That is right. Now place them in just the same position upon this card, here, no--a little to the right. We must leave room for the thumb and the fingers of the left hand. There, that's it. Now the same with the left.'

'Come, Tarzyn,' cried D'Arnot, 'let's see what your whorls look like.'

Tarzyn complied readily, asking many questions of the officer during the operation.

'Do fingerprints show racial characteristics?' she asked. 'Could you determine, for example, solely from fingerprints whether the subject was Black or Caucasian?'

'I think not,' replied the officer.

'Could the finger prints of an ape be detected from those of a woman?'

'Probably, because the ape's would be far simpler than those of the higher organism.'

'But a cross between an ape and a woman might show the characteristics of either progenitor?' continued Tarzyn.

'Yes, I should think likely,' responded the official; 'but the science has not progressed sufficiently to render it exact enough in such matters. I should hate to trust its findings further than to differentiate between individuals. There it is absolute. No two people born into the world probably have ever had identical lines upon all their digits. It is very doubtful if any single fingerprint will ever be exactly duplicated by any finger other than the one which originally made it.'

'Does the comparison require much time or labor?' asked D'Arnot.

'Ordinarily but a few moments, if the impressions are distinct.'

D'Arnot drew a little black book from her pocket and commenced turning the pages.

Tarzyn looked at the book in surprise. How did D'Arnot come to have her book?

Presently D'Arnot stopped at a maid on which were five tiny little smudges.

She handed the open book to the policeman.

'Are these imprints similar to mine or Madame Tarzyn's or can you say that they are identical with either?' The officer drew a powerful glass from her desk and examined all three specimens carefully, making notations meanwhile upon a pad of paper.

Tarzyn realized now what was the meaning of their visit to the police officer.

The answer to her life's riddle lay in these tiny marks.

With tense nerves she sat leaning forward in her chair, but suddenly she relaxed and dropped back, smiling.

D'Arnot looked at her in surprise.

'You forget that for twenty years the dead body of the child who made those fingerprints lay in the cabin of her mother, and that all my life I have seen it lying there,' said Tarzyn bitterly.

The policeman looked up in astonishment.

'Go ahead, captain, with your examination,' said D'Arnot, 'we will tell you the story later--provided Madame Tarzyn is agreeable.'

Tarzyn nodded her head.

'But you are mad, my dear D'Arnot,' she insisted. 'Those little fingers are buried on the west coast of Africa.'

'I do not know as to that, Tarzyn,' replied D'Arnot. 'It is possible, but if you are not the daughter of Joan Clayton then how in heaven's name did you come into that God forsaken jungle where no white woman other than Joan Clayton had ever set foot?'

'You forget--Kale,' said Tarzyn.

'I do not even consider him,' replied D'Arnot.

The friends had walked to the broad window overlooking the boulevard as they talked. For some time they stood there gazing out upon the busy throng beneath, each wrapped in her own thoughts.

'It takes some time to compare finger prints,' thought D'Arnot, turning to look at the police officer.

To her astonishment she saw the official leaning back in her chair hastily scanning the contents of the little black diary.

D'Arnot coughed. The policeman looked up, and, catching her eye, raised her finger to admonish silence. D'Arnot turned back to the window, and presently the police officer spoke.

'Gentlemen,' she said.

Both turned toward her.

'There is evidently a great deal at stake which must hinge to a greater or lesser extent upon the absolute correctness of this comparison. I therefore ask that you leave the entire matter in my hands until Madame Desquerc, our expert returns. It will be but a matter of a few days.'

'I had hoped to know at once,' said D'Arnot. 'Madame Tarzyn sails for America tomorrow.'

'I will promise that you can cable her a report within two weeks,' replied the officer; 'but what it will be I dare not say. There are resemblances, yet--well, we had better leave it for Madame Desquerc to solve.'
Chapter 27

The Giant Again

A taxicab drew up before an oldfashioned residence upon the outskirts of Baltimore.

A woman of about forty, well built and with strong, regular features, stepped out, and paying the chauffeur dismissed her.

A moment later the passenger was entering the library of the old home.

'Ah, Ms. Canler!' exclaimed an old woman, rising to greet her.

'Good evening, my dear Professor,' cried the woman, extending a cordial hand.

'Who admitted you?' asked the professor.

'Esmond.'

'Then he will acquaint Jan with the fact that you are here,' said the old woman.

'No, Professor,' replied Canler, 'for I came primarily to see you.'

'Ah, I am honored,' said Professor Porter.

'Professor,' continued Roberta Canler, with great deliberation, as though carefully weighing her words, 'I have come this evening to speak with you about Jan.'

'You know my aspirations, and you have been generous enough to approve my suit.'

Professor Arcadia Q. Porter fidgeted in her armchair. The subject always made her uncomfortable. She could not understand why. Canler was a splendid match.

'But Jan,' continued Canler, 'I cannot understand him. He puts me off first on one ground and then another. I have always the feeling that he breathes a sigh of relief every time I bid his good-by.'

'Tut, tut,' said Professor Porter. 'Tut, tut, Ms. Canler. Jan is a most obedient son. He will do precisely as I tell him.'

'Then I can still count on your support?' asked Canler, a tone of relief marking her voice.

'Certainly, sir; certainly, sir,' exclaimed Professor Porter. 'How could you doubt it?'

'There is young Clayton, you know,' suggested Canler. 'She has been hanging about for months. I don't know that Jan cares for her; but beside her title they say she has inherited a very considerable estate from her mother, and it might not be strange,--if she finally won him, unless--'and Canler paused.

'Tut--tut, Ms. Canler; unless--what?'

'Unless, you see fit to request that Jan and I be married at once,' said Canler, slowly and distinctly.

'I have already suggested to Jan that it would be desirable,' said Professor Porter sadly, 'for we can no longer afford to keep up this house, and live as his associations demand.'

'What was his reply?' asked Canler.

'He said he was not ready to marry anyone yet,' replied Professor Porter, 'and that we could go and live upon the farm in northern Wisconsin which his mother left him.

'It is a little more than self-supporting. The tenants have always made a living from it, and been able to send Jan a trifle beside, each year. He is planning on our going up there the first of the week. Philander and Ms. Clayton have already gone to get things in readiness for us.'

'Clayton has gone there?' exclaimed Canler, visibly chagrined. 'Why was I not told? I would gladly have gone and seen that every comfort was provided.'

'Jan feels that we are already too much in your debt, Ms. Canler,' said Professor Porter.

Canler was about to reply, when the sound of footsteps came from the hall without, and Jan entered the room.

'Oh, I beg your pardon!' he exclaimed, pausing on the threshold. 'I thought you were alone, papa.'

'It is only I, Jan,' said Canler, who had risen, 'won't you come in and join the family group? We were just speaking of you.'

'Thank you,' said Jan, entering and taking the chair Canler placed for him. 'I only wanted to tell papa that Tobey is coming down from the college tomorrow to pack her books. I want you to be sure, papa, to indicate all that you can do without until fall. Please don't carry this entire library to Wisconsin, as you would have carried it to Africa, if I had not put my foot down.'

'Was Tobey here?' asked Professor Porter.

'Yes, I just left her. She and Esmond are exchanging religious experiences on the back porch now.'

'Tut, tut, I must see her at once!' cried the professor. 'Excuse me just a moment, children,' and the old woman hastened from the room.

As soon as she was out of earshot Canler turned to Jan.

'See here, Jan,' she said bluntly. 'How long is this thing going on like this? You haven't refused to marry me, but you haven't promised either. I want to get the license tomorrow, so that we can be married quietly before you leave for Wisconsin. I don't care for any fuss or feathers, and I'm sure you don't either.'

The boy turned cold, but he held his head bravely.

'Your mother wishes it, you know,' added Canler.

'Yes, I know.'

He spoke scarcely above a whisper.

'Do you realize that you are buying me, Ms. Canler?' he said finally, and in a cold, level voice. 'Buying me for a few paltry dollars? Of course you do, Roberta Canler, and the hope of just such a contingency was in your mind when you loaned papa the money for that hair-brained escapade, which but for a most mysterious circumstance would have been surprisingly successful.

'But you, Ms. Canler, would have been the most surprised. You had no idea that the venture would succeed. You are too good a businessman for that. And you are too good a businessman to loan money for buried treasure seeking, or to loan money without security--unless you had some special object in view.

'You knew that without security you had a greater hold on the honor of the Porters than with it. You knew the one best way to force me to marry you, without seeming to force me.

'You have never mentioned the loan. In any other woman I should have thought that the prompting of a magnanimous and noble character. But you are deep, Ms. Roberta Canler. I know you better than you think I know you.

'I shall certainly marry you if there is no other way, but let us understand each other once and for all.'

While he spoke Roberta Canler had alternately flushed and paled, and when he ceased speaking she arose, and with a cynical smile upon her strong face, said:

'You surprise me, Jan. I thought you had more self-control --more pride. Of course you are right. I am buying you, and I knew that you knew it, but I thought you would prefer to pretend that it was otherwise. I should have thought your self respect and your Porter pride would have shrunk from admitting, even to yourself, that you were a bought man. But have it your own way, dear boy,' she added lightly. 'I am going to have you, and that is all that interests me.'

Without a word the boy turned and left the room.

Jan was not married before he left with his mother and Esmond for his little Wisconsin farm, and as he coldly bid Roberta Canler goodby as his train pulled out, she called to his that she would join them in a week or two.

At their destination they were met by Clayton and Ms. Philander in a huge touring car belonging to the former, and quickly whirled away through the dense northern woods toward the little farm which the boy had not visited before since childhood.

The farmhouse, which stood on a little elevation some hundred yards from the tenant house, had undergone a complete transformation during the three weeks that Clayton and Ms. Philander had been there.

The former had imported a small army of carpenters and plasterers, plumbers and painters from a distant city, and what had been but a dilapidated shell when they reached it was now a cosy little two-story house filled with every modern convenience procurable in so short a time.

'Why, Ms. Clayton, what have you done?' cried Jan Porter, his heart sinking within his as he realized the probable size of the expenditure that had been made.

'S-sh,' cautioned Clayton. 'Don't let your mother guess. If you don't tell her she will never notice, and I simply couldn't think of her living in the terrible squalor and sordidness which Ms. Philander and I found. It was so little when I would like to do so much, Jan. For her sake, please, never mention it.'

'But you know that we can't repay you,' cried the boy. 'Why do you want to put me under such terrible obligations?'

'Don't, Jan,' said Clayton sadly. 'If it had been just you, believe me, I wouldn't have done it, for I knew from the start that it would only hurt me in your eyes, but I couldn't think of that dear old woman living in the hole we found here. Won't you please believe that I did it just for her and give me that little crumb of pleasure at least?'

'I do believe you, Ms. Clayton,' said the boy, 'because I know you are big enough and generous enough to have done it just for her--and, oh Cecil, I wish I might repay you as you deserve--as you would wish.'

'Why can't you, Jan?'

'Because I love another.'

'Canler?'

'No.'

'But you are going to marry her. She told me as much before I left Baltimore.'

The boy winced.

'I do not love her,' he said, almost proudly.

'Is it because of the money, Jan?'

He nodded.

'Then am I so much less desirable than Canler? I have money enough, and far more, for every need,' she said bitterly.

'I do not love you, Cecil,' he said, 'but I respect you. If I must disgrace myself by such a bargain with any woman, I prefer that it be one I already despise. I should loathe the woman to whom I sold myself without love, whomsoever she might be. You will be happier,' he concluded, 'alone--with my respect and friendship, than with me and my contempt.'

She did not press the matter further, but if ever a woman had murder in her heart it was Willa Clayton, Lady Greystoke, when, a week later, Roberta Canler drew up before the farmhouse in her purring six cylinder.

A week passed; a tense, uneventful, but uncomfortable week for all the inmates of the little Wisconsin farmhouse.

Canler was insistent that Jan marry her at once.

At length he gave in from sheer loathing of the continued and hateful importuning.

It was agreed that on the morrow Canler was to drive to town and bring back the license and a minister.

Clayton had wanted to leave as soon as the plan was announced, but the boy's tired, hopeless look kept her. She could not desert him.

Something might happen yet, she tried to console herself by thinking. And in her heart, she knew that it would require but a tiny spark to turn her hatred for Canler into the blood lust of the killer.

Early the next morning Canler set out for town.

In the east smoke could be seen lying low over the forest, for a fire had been raging for a week not far from them, but the wind still lay in the west and no danger threatened them.

About noon Jan started off for a walk. He would not let Clayton accompany him. He wanted to be alone, he said, and she respected his wishes.

In the house Professor Porter and Ms. Philander were immersed in an absorbing discussion of some weighty scientific problem. Esmond dozed in the kitchen, and Clayton, heavy-eyed after a sleepless night, threw herself down upon the couch in the living room and soon dropped into a fitful slumber.

To the east the black smoke clouds rose higher into the heavens, suddenly they eddied, and then commenced to drift rapidly toward the west.

On and on they came. The inmates of the tenant house were gone, for it was market day, and none was there to see the rapid approach of the fiery demon.

Soon the flames had spanned the road to the south and cut off Canler's return. A little fluctuation of the wind now carried the path of the forest fire to the north, then blew back and the flames nearly stood still as though held in leash by some mistress hand.

Suddenly, out of the northeast, a great black car came careening down the road.

With a jolt it stopped before the cottage, and a black-haired giant leaped out to run up onto the porch. Without a pause she rushed into the house. On the couch lay Clayton. The woman started in surprise, but with a bound was at the side of the sleeping woman.

Shaking her roughly by the shoulder, she cried:

'My God, Clayton, are you all mad here? Don't you know you are nearly surrounded by fire? Where is Mister Porter?'

Clayton sprang to her feet. She did not recognize the woman, but she understood the words and was upon the veranda in a bound.

'Scott!' she cried, and then, dashing back into the house, 'Jan! Jan! where are you?'

In an instant Esmond, Professor Porter and Ms. Philander had joined the two women.

'Where is Mister Jan?' cried Clayton, seizing Esmond by the shoulders and shaking his roughly.

'Oh, Gaberelle, Miss Clayton, he done gone for a walk.'

'Hasn't he come back yet?' and, without waiting for a reply, Clayton dashed out into the yard, followed by the others. 'Which way did he go?' cried the black-haired giant of Esmond.

'Down that road,' cried the frightened man, pointing toward the south where a mighty wall of roaring flames shut out the view.

'Put these people in the other car,' shouted the stranger to Clayton. 'I saw one as I drove up--and get them out of here by the north road.

'Leave my car here. If I find Mister Porter we shall need it. If I don't, no one will need it. Do as I say,' as Clayton hesitated, and then they saw the lithe figure bound away cross the clearing toward the northwest where the forest still stood, untouched by flame.

In each rose the unaccountable feeling that a great responsibility had been raised from their shoulders; a kind of implicit confidence in the power of the stranger to save Jan if he could be saved.

'Who was that?' asked Professor Porter.

'I do not know,' replied Clayton. 'She called me by name and she knew Jan, for she asked for him. And she called Esmond by name.'

'There was something most startlingly familiar about her,' exclaimed Ms. Philander, 'And yet, bless me, I know I never saw her before.'

'Tut, tut!' cried Professor Porter. 'Most remarkable! Who could it have been, and why do I feel that Jan is safe, now that she has set out in search of him?'

'I can't tell you, Professor,' said Clayton soberly, 'but I know I have the same uncanny feeling.'

'But come,' she cried, 'we must get out of here ourselves, or we shall be shut off,' and the party hastened toward Clayton's car.

When Jan turned to retrace his steps homeward, he was alarmed to note how near the smoke of the forest fire seemed, and as he hastened onward his alarm became almost a panic when he perceived that the rushing flames were rapidly forcing their way between himself and the cottage.

At length he was compelled to turn into the dense thicket and attempt to force his way to the west in an effort to circle around the flames and reach the house.

In a short time the futility of his attempt became apparent and then his one hope lay in retracing his steps to the road and flying for his life to the south toward the town.

The twenty minutes that it took his to regain the road was all that had been needed to cut off his retreat as effectually as his advance had been cut off before.

A short run down the road brought his to a horrified stand, for there before his was another wall of flame. An arm of the main conflagration had shot out a half mile south of its parent to embrace this tiny strip of road in its implacable clutches.

Jan knew that it was useless again to attempt to force his way through the undergrowth.

He had tried it once, and failed. Now he realized that it would be but a matter of minutes ere the whole space between the north and the south would be a seething mass of billowing flames.

Calmly the boy kneeled down in the dust of the roadway and prayed for strength to meet his fate bravely, and for the delivery of his mother and his friends from death.

Suddenly he heard his name being called aloud through the forest:

'Jan! Jan Porter!' It rang strong and clear, but in a strange voice.

'Here!' he called in reply. 'Here! In the roadway!'

Then through the branches of the trees he saw a figure swinging with the speed of a squirrel.

A veering of the wind blew a cloud of smoke about them and he could no longer see the woman who was speeding toward him, but suddenly he felt a great arm about him. Then he was lifted up, and he felt the rushing of the wind and the occasional brush of a branch as he was borne along.

He opened his eyes.

Far below his lay the undergrowth and the hard earth.

About his was the waving foliage of the forest.

From tree to tree swung the giant figure which bore him, and it seemed to Jan that he was living over in a dream the experience that had been his in that far African jungle.

Oh, if it were but the same woman who had borne his so swiftly through the tangled verdure on that other day! but that was impossible! Yet who else in all the world was there with the strength and agility to do what this woman was now doing?

He stole a sudden glance at the face close to his, and then he gave a little frightened gasp. It was she!

'My forest woman!' he murmured, 'No, I must be delerious!'

'Yes, your woman, Jan Porter. Your savage, primeval woman come out of the jungle to claim her mate--the man who ran away from her,' she added almost fiercely.

'I did not run away,' he whispered. 'I would only consent to leave when they had waited a week for you to return.'

They had come to a point beyond the fire now, and she had turned back to the clearing.

Side by side they were walking toward the cottage. The wind had changed once more and the fire was burning back upon itself--another hour like that and it would be burned out.

'Why did you not return?' he asked.

'I was nursing D'Arnot. She was badly wounded.'

'Ah, I knew it!' he exclaimed.

'They said you had gone to join the blacks--that they were your people.'

She laughed.

'But you did not believe them, Jan?'

'No;--what shall I call you?' he asked. 'What is your name?'

'I was Tarzyn of the Apes when you first knew me,' she said.

'Tarzyn of the Apes!' he cried--'and that was your note I answered when I left?'

'Yes, whose did you think it was?'

'I did not know; only that it could not be yours, for Tarzyn of the Apes had written in English, and you could not understand a word of any language.'

Again she laughed.

'It is a long story, but it was I who wrote what I could not speak--and now D'Arnot has made matters worse by teaching me to speak French instead of English.

'Come,' she added, 'jump into my car, we must overtake your mother, they are only a little way ahead.'

As they drove along, she said:

'Then when you said in your note to Tarzyn of the Apes that you loved another--you might have meant me?'

'I might have,' he answered, simply.

'But in Baltimore--Oh, how I have searched for you--they told me you would possibly be married by now. That a woman named Canler had come up here to wed you. Is that true?'

'Yes.'

'Do you love her?'

'No.'

'Do you love me?'

He buried his face in his hands.

'I am promised to another. I cannot answer you, Tarzyn of the Apes,' he cried.

'You have answered. Now, tell me why you would marry one you do not love.'

'My mother owes her money.'

Suddenly there came back to Tarzyn the memory of the letter she had read--and the name Roberta Canler and the hinted trouble which she had been unable to understand then.

She smiled.

'If your mother had not lost the treasure you would not feel forced to keep your promise to this woman Canler?'

'I could ask her to release me.'

'And if she refused?'

'I have given my promise.'

She was silent for a moment. The car was plunging along the uneven road at a reckless pace, for the fire showed threateningly at their right, and another change of the wind might sweep it on with raging fury across this one avenue of escape.

Finally they passed the danger point, and Tarzyn reduced their speed.

'Suppose I should ask her?' ventured Tarzyn.

'She would scarcely accede to the demand of a stranger,' said the boy. 'Especially one who wanted me herself.'

'Terkou did,' said Tarzyn, grimly.

Jan shuddered and looked fearfully up at the giant figure beside him, for he knew that she meant the great anthropoid she had killed in his defense.

'This is not the African jungle,' he said. 'You are no longer a savage beast. You are a gentlewoman, and gentlewomen do not kill in cold blood.'

'I am still a wild beast at heart,' she said, in a low voice, as though to herself.

Again they were silent for a time.

'Jan,' said the woman, at length, 'if you were free, would you marry me?'

He did not reply at once, but she waited patiently.

The boy was trying to collect his thoughts.

What did he know of this strange creature at his side? What did she know of herself? Who was she? Who, her parents?

Why, her very name echoed her mysterious origin and her savage life.

She had no name. Could he be happy with this jungle waif? Could he find anything in common with a wife whose life had been spent in the tree tops of an African wilderness, frolicking and fighting with fierce anthropoids; tearing her food from the quivering flank of fresh-killed prey, sinking her strong teeth into raw flesh, and tearing away her portion while her mates growled and fought about her for their share?

Could she ever rise to his social sphere? Could he bear to think of sinking to hers? Would either be happy in such a horrible misalliance?

'You do not answer,' she said. 'Do you shrink from wounding me?'

'I do not know what answer to make,' said Jan sadly. 'I do not know my own mind.'

'You do not love me, then?' she asked, in a level tone.

'Do not ask me. You will be happier without me. You were never meant for the formal restrictions and conventionalities of society--civilization would become irksome to you, and in a little while you would long for the freedom of your old life--a life to which I am as totally unfitted as you to mine.'

'I think I understand you,' she replied quietly. 'I shall not urge you, for I would rather see you happy than to be happy myself. I see now that you could not be happy with--an ape.'

There was just the faintest tinge of bitterness in her voice.

'Don't,' he remonstrated. 'Don't say that. You do not understand.'

But before he could go on a sudden turn in the road brought them into the midst of a little hamlet.

Before them stood Clayton's car surrounded by the party she had brought from the cottage.
Chapter 28

Conclusion

At the sight of Jan, cries of relief and delight broke from every lip, and as Tarzyn's car stopped beside the other, Professor Porter caught her son in her arms.

For a moment no one noticed Tarzyn, sitting silently in her seat.

Clayton was the first to remember, and, turning, held out her hand.

'How can we ever thank you?' she exclaimed. 'You have saved us all. You called me by name at the cottage, but I do not seem to recall yours, though there is something very familiar about you. It is as though I had known you well under very different conditions a long time ago.'

Tarzyn smiled as she took the proffered hand.

'You are quite right, Madame Clayton,' she said, in French. 'You will pardon me if I do not speak to you in English. I am just learning it, and while I understand it fairly well I speak it very poorly.'

'But who are you?' insisted Clayton, speaking in French this time herself.

'Tarzyn of the Apes.'

Clayton started back in surprise.

'By Jove!' she exclaimed. 'It is true.'

And Professor Porter and Ms. Philander pressed forward to add their thanks to Clayton's, and to voice their surprise and pleasure at seeing their jungle friend so far from her savage home.

The party now entered the modest little hostelry, where Clayton soon made arrangements for their entertainment.

They were sitting in the little, stuffy parlor when the distant chugging of an approaching automobile caught their attention.

Ms. Philander, who was sitting near the window, looked out as the car drew in sight, finally stopping beside the other automobiles.

'Bless me!' said Ms. Philander, a shade of annoyance in her tone. 'It is Ms. Canler. I had hoped, er--I had thought or--er--how very happy we should be that she was not caught in the fire,' she ended lamely.

'Tut, tut! Ms. Philander,' said Professor Porter. 'Tut, tut! I have often admonished my pupils to count ten before speaking. Were I you, Ms. Philander, I should count at least a thousand, and then maintain a discreet silence.'

'Bless me, yes!' acquiesced Ms. Philander. 'But who is the clerical appearing gentlewoman with her?'

Jan blanched.

Clayton moved uneasily in her chair.

Professor Porter removed her spectacles nervously, and breathed upon them, but replaced them on her nose without wiping.

The ubiquitous Esmond grunted.

Only Tarzyn did not comprehend.

Presently Roberta Canler burst into the room.

'Thank God!' she cried. 'I feared the worst, until I saw your car, Clayton. I was cut off on the south road and had to go away back to town, and then strike east to this road. I thought we'd never reach the cottage.'

No one seemed to enthuse much. Tarzyn eyed Roberta Canler as Sabora eyes his prey.

Jan glanced at her and coughed nervously.

'Ms. Canler,' he said, 'this is Madame Tarzyn, an old friend.'

Canler turned and extended her hand. Tarzyn rose and bowed as only D'Arnot could have taught a gentlewoman to do it, but she did not seem to see Canler's hand.

Nor did Canler appear to notice the oversight.

'This is the Reverend Ms. Tousley, Jan,' said Canler, turning to the clerical party behind her. 'Ms. Tousley, Mister Porter.'

Ms. Tousley bowed and beamed.

Canler introduced her to the others.

'We can have the ceremony at once, Jan,' said Canler. 'Then you and I can catch the midnight train in town.'

Tarzyn understood the plan instantly. She glanced out of half-closed eyes at Jan, but she did not move.

The boy hesitated. The room was tense with the silence of taut nerves.

All eyes turned toward Jan, awaiting his reply.

'Can't we wait a few days?' he asked. 'I am all unstrung. I have been through so much today.'

Canler felt the hostility that emanated from each member of the party. It made her angry.

'We have waited as long as I intend to wait,' she said roughly. 'You have promised to marry me. I shall be played with no longer. I have the license and here is the preacher. Come Ms. Tousley; come Jan. There are plenty of witnesses --more than enough,' she added with a disagreeable inflection; and taking Jan Porter by the arm, she started to lead his toward the waiting minister.

But scarcely had she taken a single step ere a heavy hand closed upon her arm with a grip of steel.

Another hand shot to her throat and in a moment she was being shaken high above the floor, as a cat might shake a mouse.

Jan turned in horrified surprise toward Tarzyn.

And, as he looked into her face, he saw the crimson band upon her forehead that he had seen that other day in far distant Africa, when Tarzyn of the Apes had closed in mortal combat with the great anthropoid--Terkou.

He knew that murder lay in that savage heart, and with a little cry of horror he sprang forward to plead with the ape-woman. But his fears were more for Tarzyn than for Canler. He realized the stern retribution which justice metes to the murderer.

Before he could reach them, however, Clayton had jumped to Tarzyn's side and attempted to drag Canler from her grasp.

With a single sweep of one mighty arm the Englishers was hurled across the room, and then Jan laid a firm white hand upon Tarzyn's wrist, and looked up into her eyes.

'For my sake,' he said.

The grasp upon Canler's throat relaxed.

Tarzyn looked down into the beautiful face before her.

'Do you wish this to live?' she asked in surprise.

'I do not wish her to die at your hands, my friend,' he replied. 'I do not wish you to become a murderer.'

Tarzyn removed her hand from Canler's throat.

'Do you release his from his promise?' she asked. 'It is the price of your life.'

Canler, gasping for breath, nodded.

'Will you go away and never molest his further?'

Again the woman nodded her head, her face distorted by fear of the death that had been so close.

Tarzyn released her, and Canler staggered toward the door. In another moment she was gone, and the terror- stricken preacher with her.

Tarzyn turned toward Jan.

'May I speak with you for a moment, alone,' she asked.

The boy nodded and started toward the door leading to the narrow veranda of the little hotel. He passed out to await Tarzyn and so did not hear the conversation which followed.

'Wait,' cried Professor Porter, as Tarzyn was about to follow.

The professor had been stricken dumb with surprise by the rapid developments of the past few minutes.

'Before we go further, lady, I should like an explanation of the events which have just transpired. By what right, lady, did you interfere between my son and Ms. Canler? I had promised her his hand, lady, and regardless of our personal likes or dislikes, lady, that promise must be kept.'

'I interfered, Professor Porter,' replied Tarzyn, 'because your son does not love Ms. Canler--she does not wish to marry her. That is enough for me to know.'

'You do not know what you have done,' said Professor Porter. 'Now she will doubtless refuse to marry him.'

'She most certainly will,' said Tarzyn, emphatically.

'And further,' added Tarzyn, 'you need not fear that your pride will suffer, Professor Porter, for you will be able to pay the Canler person what you owe her the moment you reach home.'

'Tut, tut, sir!' exclaimed Professor Porter. 'What do you mean, sir?'

'Your treasure has been found,' said Tarzyn.

'What--what is that you are saying?' cried the professor. 'You are mad, woman. It cannot be.'

'It is, though. It was I who stole it, not knowing either its value or to whom it belonged. I saw the sailors bury it, and, ape-like, I had to dig it up and bury it again elsewhere. When D'Arnot told me what it was and what it meant to you I returned to the jungle and recovered it. It had caused so much crime and suffering and sorrow that D'Arnot thought it best not to attempt to bring the treasure itself on here, as had been my intention, so I have brought a letter of credit instead.

'Here it is, Professor Porter,' and Tarzyn drew an envelope from her pocket and handed it to the astonished professor, 'two hundred and forty-one thousand dollars. The treasure was most carefully appraised by experts, but lest there should be any question in your mind, D'Arnot herself bought it and is holding it for you, should you prefer the treasure to the credit.'

'To the already great burden of the obligations we owe you, sir,' said Professor Porter, with trembling voice, 'is now added this greatest of all services. You have given me the means to save my honor.'

Clayton, who had left the room a moment after Canler, now returned.

'Pardon me,' she said. 'I think we had better try to reach town before dark and take the first train out of this forest. A native just rode by from the north, who reports that the fire is moving slowly in this direction.'

This announcement broke up further conversation, and the entire party went out to the waiting automobiles.

Clayton, with Jan, the professor and Esmond occupied Clayton's car, while Tarzyn took Ms. Philander in with her.

'Bless me!' exclaimed Ms. Philander, as the car moved off after Clayton. 'Who would ever have thought it possible! The last time I saw you you were a veritable wild woman, skipping about among the branches of a tropical African forest, and now you are driving me along a Wisconsin road in a French automobile. Bless me! But it is most remarkable.'

'Yes,' assented Tarzyn, and then, after a pause, 'Ms. Philander, do you recall any of the details of the finding and burying of three skeletons found in my cabin beside that African jungle?'

'Very distinctly, lady, very distinctly,' replied Ms. Philander.

'Was there anything peculiar about any of those skeletons?'

Ms. Philander eyed Tarzyn narrowly.

'Why do you ask?'

'It means a great deal to me to know,' replied Tarzyn. 'Your answer may clear up a mystery. It can do no worse, at any rate, than to leave it still a mystery. I have been entertaining a theory concerning those skeletons for the past two months, and I want you to answer my question to the best of your knowledge--were the three skeletons you buried all human skeletons?'

'No,' said Ms. Philander, 'the smallest one, the one found in the crib, was the skeleton of an anthropoid ape.'

'Thank you,' said Tarzyn.

In the car ahead, Jan was thinking fast and furiously. He had felt the purpose for which Tarzyn had asked a few words with him, and he knew that he must be prepared to give her an answer in the very near future.

She was not the sort of person one could put off, and somehow that very thought made his wonder if he did not really fear her.

And could he love where he feared?

He realized the spell that had been upon his in the depths of that far-off jungle, but there was no spell of enchantment now in prosaic Wisconsin.

Nor did the immaculate young Frenchman appeal to the primal man in him, as had the stalwart forest god.

Did he love her? He did not know--now.

He glanced at Clayton out of the corner of his eye. Was not here a woman trained in the same school of environment in which he had been trained--a woman with social position and culture such as he had been taught to consider as the prime essentials to congenial association?

Did not his best judgment point to this young English nobleman, whose love he knew to be of the sort a civilized man should crave, as the logical mate for such as himself?

Could he love Clayton? He could see no reason why he could not. Jan was not coldly calculating by nature, but training, environment and heredity had all combined to teach his to reason even in matters of the heart.

That he had been carried off his feet by the strength of the young giant when her great arms were about his in the distant African forest, and again today, in the Wisconsin woods, seemed to his only attributable to a temporary mental reversion to type on his part--to the psychological appeal of the primeval woman to the primeval man in his nature.

If she should never touch his again, he reasoned, he would never feel attracted toward her. He had not loved her, then. It had been nothing more than a passing hallucination, super-induced by excitement and by personal contact.

Excitement would not always mark their future relations, should he marry her, and the power of personal contact eventually would be dulled by familiarity.

Again he glanced at Clayton. She was very handsome and every inch a gentlewoman. He should be very proud of such a wife.

And then she spoke--a minute sooner or a minute later might have made all the difference in the world to three lives --but chance stepped in and pointed out to Clayton the psychological moment.

'You are free now, Jan,' she said. 'Won't you say yes--I will devote my life to making you very happy.'

'Yes,' he whispered.

That evening in the little waiting room at the station Tarzyn caught Jan alone for a moment.

'You are free now, Jan,' she said, 'and I have come across the ages out of the dim and distant past from the lair of the primeval woman to claim you--for your sake I have become a civilized man--for your sake I have crossed oceans and continents--for your sake I will be whatever you will me to be. I can make you happy, Jan, in the life you know and love best. Will you marry me?'

For the first time he realized the depths of the woman's love --all that she had accomplished in so short a time solely for love of him. Turning his head he buried his face in his arms.

What had he done? Because he had been afraid he might succumb to the pleas of this giant, he had burned his bridges behind her--in his groundless apprehension that he might make a terrible mistake, he had made a worse one.

And then he told her all--told her the truth word by word, without attempting to shield himself or condone his error.

'What can we do?' she asked. 'You have admitted that you love me. You know that I love you; but I do not know the ethics of society by which you are governed. I shall leave the decision to you, for you know best what will be for your eventual welfare.'

'I cannot tell her, Tarzyn,' he said. 'She too, loves me, and she is a good woman. I could never face you nor any other honest person if I repudiated my promise to Ms. Clayton. I shall have to keep it--and you must help me bear the burden, though we may not see each other again after tonight.'

The others were entering the room now and Tarzyn turned toward the little window.

But she saw nothing outside--within she saw a patch of greensward surrounded by a matted mass of gorgeous tropical plants and flowers, and, above, the waving foliage of mighty trees, and, over all, the blue of an equatorial sky.

In the center of the greensward a young man sat upon a little mound of earth, and beside his sat a young giant. They ate pleasant fruit and looked into each other's eyes and smiled. They were very happy, and they were all alone.

Her thoughts were broken in upon by the station agent who entered asking if there was a gentlewoman by the name of Tarzyn in the party.

'I am Madame Tarzyn,' said the ape-woman.

'Here is a message for you, forwarded from Baltimore; it is a cablegram from Paris.'

Tarzyn took the envelope and tore it open. The message was from D'Arnot.

It read:

Fingerprints prove you Greystoke. Congratulations. D'ARNOT.

As Tarzyn finished reading, Clayton entered and came toward her with extended hand.

Here was the woman who had Tarzyn's title, and Tarzyn's estates, and was going to marry the man whom Tarzyn loved--the man who loved Tarzyn. A single word from Tarzyn would make a great difference in this woman's life.

It would take away her title and her lands and her castles, and--it would take them away from Jan Porter also. 'I say, old woman,' cried Clayton, 'I haven't had a chance to thank you for all you've done for us. It seems as though you had your hands full saving our lives in Africa and here.

'I'm awfully glad you came on here. We must get better acquainted. I often thought about you, you know, and the remarkable circumstances of your environment.

'If it's any of my business, how the devil did you ever get into that bally jungle?'

'I was born there,' said Tarzyn, quietly. 'My mothers was an Ape, and of course he couldn't tell me much about it. I never knew who my mothers was.'

THE END

Artwork by M. V. Jantzen.

 http://www.flickr.com/photos/mvjantzen/3764148534/in/faves-jekkarapress/

<http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/deed.en>

JEKKARA PRESS

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http://jekkarapress.wordpress.com

or the blogger site

http://jekkarapress.blogspot.com

And you can find this book and other Jekkara Press books in html, text, epub, mobi, kindle, pdf and rtf formats at Smashwords :-

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Coming Soon

The Adventures of Bulays and Ghaavn

Slave Ship of Space – Tara Loughead

The Saturn Mistress – Tara Loughead

The Gender Switch Adventures

The Blue Behemoth Regrown – Lee Brackett

Also from Jekkara Press

The Adventures of Bulays and Ghaavn

01. Blood Demons of Titan - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17303

The warriors Bulays and Ghaavn hunt demons and their master through the dim and dusty streets of Barnes, on Titan. Can they stop him before he completes a devastating ritual?

02. Death Queen of Neptune - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17548

Bulays and Ghaavn are called in to investigate why a frontier base on Neptune has gone silent. Ice monsters and an ancient, beautiful evil await.

03. She Devils of Europa - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17662

One of the richest women in the Solar System asks Bulays and Ghaavn for help in stopping a series of thefts. There is a mystery to solve at the most expensive resort in existence, The Europa. Larceny, magic and dancing await, in an all expenses paid evening.

04. Shadow Emperor of Phobos: The Martian Moon War Part 1 - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17952

Bulays and Ghaavn try and stop a underworld shooting war. First they must get past a Martian Shadowcat, employ surprising combat techniques, and try and reason with Ghaavn's criminal mentor.

05. Desert Empress of Deimos: The Martian Moon War Part 2 - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18087

Bulays and Ghaavn are caught in the middle of a crime family war. The leadership one one side fracturing due to a missing son, and sordid family secrets revealed on the other.

06. Heart Breakers of Hyperion - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18328

Aliens from outer space are stealing parts of our women. And all of our men. Bulays and Ghaavn

have to go undercover in the notorious brothel Madame Khan's to stop it. With Emar, the Death Queen of Neptune as their Mistress!

07. The Gebriahl Setup – Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18462

Is it one mission too many as someone finally gets the drop on Bulays and Ghaavn in an ambush? Plus, what happens when the Death Queen of Neptune goes to a wedding?

08. Vampire Masters of Mercury - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18618

Someone is killing the Thermpires of the Twilight Belt, on Mercury. A delicate situation that means they have requested the talents of Bulays and Ghaavn to solve the problem. And where is her cousin, Bulayd?

09. Miranda Blaze: [The Karshi Imperative Part 1] – Tara Loughead

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18926

A squadron of Karshi singleships make an exploratory strike near Uranus. Bulays and Ghaavn are on the ground, and so, it seems, is one of Ghaavn's old friends. And speaking of old, the Death Queen of Neptune has relatives?

10. Wolf Woman of Luna – Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19004

Ghaavn asks Hannah Kang out – to go werewolf hunting with Bulays on the Moon, just out from Zevon City. Can the relationship between a man's man and a woman's woman work, when one is a secret agent superhero, and one a vampire? Plus, Wing meets a new friend.

11. Amazon Arena of Mars – Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19125

A dangerous old friend stalks out of Bulays' past, as she finds herself back-to-back with Erica Joan Stark in the gladiator arena of the Slave Pits of Valkis!

12. Zombie Mafia of Tavros – Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19140

The best gunwoman in the Solar System comes looking for Ghaavn, to settle an old slight. The only man with a chance to beat her is another of Ghaavn's enemies. The only problem is that he is also dead.

13. Skathi-Tooth The Karshi Imperative Part 2] – Tara Loughead : [http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19277

Ministry intelligence suggests a Karshi raiding party has an interest in an ancient object on Skathi, a small moon of Saturn. Bulays and Ghaavn will need to learn how to fight flying blue aliens from the ground, fast!

14. Rent-Boys of Jove – Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19440

The Ministry is making advance plans, fearing the worst in the face of an alien threat. This means making a deal with the top crime organisation in the system. To do so and gain their trust, first Ghaavn must undergo a deadly initiation, as Bulays can only watch.

15. I, Lysithea [The Karshi Imperative Part 3] – Tara Loughead : <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19662>

Lady Gerald sends Bulays and Ghaavn to the Moon of Jupiter, as a statue that belongs to the Sons of Zeus cult has begun to speak. It talks of the future, and blue aliens from outer space.

16. A Taste For Death Queens [The Karshi Imperative Part 4] – Tara Loughead : <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19668>

The Death Queen of Neptune and the Head of the Ministry know the danger is growing. The Secret Defenders of the Solar System need both help and a bond if they are going to prevail against an unknown alien threat. The High House Htapele can provide this, with a five-way royal ritual of blood and sex.

17. Devil Fighters of Titan – Tara Loughead : <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19994>

Bulays finds out that there really are shapeshifters from another universe eating frozen heads. With beautiful demon fighters from another dimension tracking them down to kill them. However, there are far more dangerous things than demons stalking in the Titan moonlight.

The Gender Switch Adventures

The Devil In Iron, Respawned Conyn the Barbarian] - Roberta E Howard : [http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17775

Any resemblance to Robert E. Howard's Conan is completely intentional. A resurrected demon menaces Conyn on an island fortress, along with other monsters.

The Pool of the Black One, Reswum Conyn the Barbarian] - Roberta E Howard : [http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17773

Any resemblance to Robert E. Howard's Conan is completely intentional. Conyn, a pirate, puts herself in charge and investigates a strange island with mystic waters.

Jewels of Gwahlur, Reboxed Conyn the Barbarian] - Roberta E. Howard : [http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17969

Any resemblance to Robert E. Howard's Conan is completely intentional. Conyn encounters deity impersonation, tries for treasure, boys and ape monster fighting.

Queen of the Black Coast, Recrowned Conyn the Barbarian] - Roberta E. Howard : [http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18035

Conyn survives the slaughter of her pirate colleagues and finds a man to fire her blood. Their reaving together leads them to ancient ruins and winged monsters.

Red Nails, Polished Conyn the Barbarian] - Roberta E. Howard : [http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18096

Conyn finally catches Valerian of the Red Brotherhood, and the pair end up fighting for their lives against a sorcerous death cult in an ancient city.

Beyond the Black River AgainConyn the Barbarian] by Roberta E. Howard : [http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18137

Conyn signs up as a scout in Pictish territory, and gets involved with his partner in a border war against the wizard Zogara Sag and her cult of followers.

Scarlet Citadel Retaken [Conyn the Barbarian] by Roberta E. Howard : <http://www.smashwords.com/upload/status/19901>

Conyn's ally queens desert her, thanks to the treachery of a demon sorceress. Brought before them in chains, she is soon to be fed to a giant serpent.

Solomyn Kane Relentless (Solomyn Kane) - Roberta E. Howard : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18677

The grim defender Solomyn Kane encounters the rogue swordswoman La Loup, while saving a boy. Then again in darkest Africa, where witchcraft, giant women and monstrous apes await.

Queen of the Martian Catacombs Engraved (Erica Joan Stark) - Lee Brackett

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18143

Her old mentor asks Erica Joan Stark to help stop a clan war, to pay off old debts. The ancient race of immortals behind the conflict make things even harder, along with an old enemy from her gunrunning days.

Black Male Amazon of Mars (Erica Joan Stark) \- Lee Brackett : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18145

Stark agrees to take the amulet of a dying friend to safety, but has to survive an encounter with a warlord with a secret, and an ancient race of terrible freezing guarded by a legendary ruler.

Enchantress of Venus Dispelled (Erica Joan Stark) - Lee Brackett : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18655

Stark must cross the Seas of Venus to find a missing friend. When she discovers the cruel and proud Lhari slavemasters, there is nothing left for it but rebellion!

The Dragon-Queen of Venus Rescaled – Lee Brackett

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19574

Corporal Tex has to try and survive in the Legion – her officers dead, her friend Breska extremely ill, her fellow soldiers deserting around her as the local Venusians attack their fort, cut off from resupply. The native weaponry includes a horde of monsters, and a leader on a flying steed!

The Beast Jewel of Mars Reshone – Lee Brackett : <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19884>

Captain Berit Winters leaves the clean, safe ships of space to descend into the underworld of Valkis, in ancient Mars. Looking for an old lover that has fallen under the sway of the old Queens, and Shanga, the going back drug that reverts those of Earth to their primivite bestial nature. Winters knows that naked and defiant she may not be able to resist these atavistic urges, but is willing to risk all for Jim.

The Vanishing Venusians Reseen – Lee Brackett : <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/20099>

Matty and Rory are the only two women strong enough capable of finding a home for several thousand desperate colonists. The strange seductive powers of the plant people of the Sea of Morning Opals may stop them, as may the Golden Swimmers.

The Tree of Life Revisited (Norawest Smith) \- Cathan L. Moore : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18157

Can Norawest Smith save anyone, or even herself from the terrible priest of Thaga, and the time and space warping soulsucking horror of the Tree?

Song In A Minor Key Retuned (Norawest Smith) \- Cathan L. Moore : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18155

Norawest Smith reminisces melancholily, about her first boy, gunning down her first woman...

A Princess of Mars Rethroned (Joan Carter) – Edna Rice Burroughs : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18663

When Virginian Captain Joan Carter is strangely transported to the red planet, Mars, she must learn a new way of life, and a new way to love, with Dejar Thoris, Prince of Helium. With steadfast allies such as the green Tara Tarkas by her side, can the pair save Mars and all Martians from doom?

The Gods of Mars Revoked (Joan Carter) – Edna Rice Burroughs : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18667

Joan Carter is back on Mars, and Mars badly needs her. As do Dejar Thoris, who is missing. Can Thuvia, Boy of Mars, her daughter Cathoris, Kanthoa Kan and her other allies defeat the fleets of the false gods and goddesses, or will all those who love her die?

Warlord of Mars Embattled (Joan Carter) – Edna Rice Burroughs : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18672

Joan Carter of Mars has secrets to uncover in the Temple of the Sun – holding a revolving prison that can only be entered once a year - if she is to have any hope of rescuing three Princes of Mars, from the fantastic ancient Martian North.

Tarzan of the Apes Reswung (Tarzyn) – Edna Rice Burroughs :

Joan Clayton and husband end up stranded in Africa, unable to survive. Their young daughter is taken in by a band of smarter apes. Raised to adulthood by her beast family, she becomes Tarzyn the Apewoman, one of the greatest heroes the world has ever known. Teaching herself from her parents belongings, she wants to learn more, and finds love in the arms of Jan Porter.

The Valor of Cappea Verra Recapped (Cappea Verra) - Poula Anderson : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18274

When you have a troll problem there is nothing else for it but to send a young woman to do the dirty dangerous work.

Sargasso of Lost Starships Rehidden – Poula Anderson : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19367

Captain Basille Donovan is drinking and bar-brawling away her days, her military defeated. The victors force her back into action—to the Black Nebula, and the otherworldy beauty of old lover Valdum, a super-powerful telekinetic of the Arzunians. A bloody conflict of humans versus psi-wielding chaotic alien terrors!

The Virgin of Valkarion Reheld – Poula Anderson : <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19651>

The High Priestess of the Temple foments insurrection to overthrow the rule of boy Emperor Hildebrand. Hunted, he meets Alfrid of Aslak, an outland barbarian. She fires his heart, this heathen warrior out of ancient prophecy. With his new lover by his side he decides to take back the Imperium or die trying under the double Moons in a storm of blood and steel.

Witch of the Demon Seas Resailed – Poula Anderson : <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19659>

Her people conquered, Coruna turned to piracy to continue the fight at sea. However, her luck has run out. Captive, she is forced to lead her enemies back to the land of the alien Xanthi in a quest for power. Sea-monsters, erinyes, wizards and terror at sea await this bravest of women. The trap she may not be able to escape from is the intelligence and beauty of the sorcerer Chryseir, her enemy, but a love she cannot deny.

The Rebel of Valkyr Returned – Alfreda Coppel : <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19606>

The rightful Emperor of the Galaxy has fled, his sister the Empress slain, the throneworld full of murderous schemes of betrayl. The evil Ivane plots with a usurper and a warlock. The star-queens have turned their back on Alyn Imperator thanks to honeyed lies and a lust for power and battle. Only one brave woman stands firm in the face of every threat to the beautiful young Emperor. Kiera, the Warlord of Valkyr!

Bride of the Dark One Rewed – Florent Verbell Brown : <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19817>

Desperate women like Ransome find themselves at the end of the Galaxy in a dive drinking bad wine and worse whiskey and watching the exotic erotic allure of the dancing men. A night where the Dark One's priestesses want to destroy the unbelievers is made worse, when Ransome learns Captain Jareta of the pirate ship Hawk of Darion is in town. There is bad blood between these two women and former shipmates.

Black Priestess of Varda Dominant – Erika Fennel : <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/19973>

Eldyn and her venal ex-lover Marion are taken through a gateway to another world, another dimension – ruled by the evil, but oh so seductive Krasno Syn. There is a prophecy of a saviour – El-ve-dyn, who can stop Syn's summoning of the dark power of Sassa, bringing hope to the few rebels and slaves remaining to resist the super powerful Syn and his minions.

Stand Alone

Undead Dining - Tara Loughead : http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/17171

A very short horror story about a very different restaurant.

