Korak screamed commands to his huge protector, in an effortto halt him; but all to no avail. Meriem raced toward thebordering trees with all the speed that lay in her swift, littlefeet; but Tantor, for all his huge bulk, drove down upon her withthe rapidity of an express train.

Korak lay where he could see the whole frightful tragedy. The cold sweat broke out upon his body. His heart seemed tohave stopped its beating. Meriem might reach the trees beforeTantor overtook her, but even her agility would not carry herbeyond the reach of that relentless trunk--she would be draggeddown and tossed. Korak could picture the whole frightful scene. Then Tantor would follow her up, goring the frail, little bodywith his relentless tusks, or trampling it into an unrecognizablemass beneath his ponderous feet.

He was almost upon her now. Korak wanted to close his eyes,but could not. His throat was dry and parched. Never in all hissavage existence had he suffered such blighting terror--neverbefore had he known what terror meant. A dozen more stridesand the brute would seize her. What was that? Korak's eyesstarted from their sockets. A strange figure had leaped from thetree the shade of which Meriem already had reached--leapedbeyond the girl straight into the path of the charging elephant.It was a naked white giant. Across his shoulder a coil of ropewas looped. In the band of his gee string was a hunting knife.Otherwise he was unarmed. With naked hands he faced themaddening Tantor. A sharp command broke from the stranger'slips--the great beast halted in his tracks--and Meriem swungherself upward into the tree to safety. Korak breathed a sighof relief not unmixed with wonder. He fastened his eyes upon theface of Meriem's deliverer and as recognition slowly filtered intohis understanding they went wide in incredulity and surprise.

Tantor, still rumbling angrily, stood swaying to and fro closebefore the giant white man. Then the latter stepped straightbeneath the upraised trunk and spoke a low word of command. The great beast ceased his muttering. The savage light died fromhis eyes, and as the stranger stepped forward toward Korak,Tantor trailed docilely at his heels.

Meriem was watching, too, and wondering. Suddenly the manturned toward her as though recollecting her presence after amoment of forgetfulness. "Come! Meriem," he called, and thenshe recognized him with a startled: "Bwana!" Quickly the girldropped from the tree and ran to his side. Tantor cocked aquestioning eye at the white giant, but receiving a warningword let Meriem approach. Together the two walked to whereKorak lay, his eyes wide with wonder and filled with a patheticappeal for forgiveness, and, mayhap, a glad thankfulness for themiracle that had brought these two of all others to his side.

"Jack!" cried the white giant, kneeling at the ape-man's side.

"Father!" came chokingly from The Killer's lips. "Thank Godthat it was you. No one else in all the jungle could havestopped Tantor."

Quickly the man cut the bonds that held Korak, and as theyouth leaped to his feet and threw his arms about his father,the older man turned toward Meriem.

"I thought," he said, sternly, "that I told you to return tothe farm."

Korak was looking at them wonderingly. In his heart was agreat yearning to take the girl in his arms; but in time heremembered the other--the dapper young English gentleman--and that he was but a savage, uncouth ape-man.

Meriem looked up pleadingly into Bwana's eyes.

"You told me," she said, in a very small voice, "that myplace was beside the man I loved," and she turned her eyestoward Korak all filled with the wonderful light that no otherman had yet seen in them, and that none other ever would.

The Killer started toward her with outstretched arms; butsuddenly he fell upon one knee before her, instead, and liftingher hand to his lips kissed it more reverently than he could havekissed the hand of his country's queen.

A rumble from Tantor brought the three, all jungle bred, toinstant alertness. Tantor was looking toward the trees behindthem, and as their eyes followed his gaze the head and shouldersof a great ape appeared amidst the foliage. For a moment thecreature eyed them, and then from its throat rose a loud screamof recognition and of joy, and a moment later the beast hadleaped to the ground, followed by a score of bulls like himself,and was waddling toward them, shouting in the primordial tongueof the anthropoid:

"Tarzan has returned! Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle!"

It was Akut, and instantly he commenced leaping and boundingabout the trio, uttering hideous shrieks and mouthings thatto any other human beings might have indicated the mostferocious rage; but these three knew that the king of theapes was doing homage to a king greater than himself. In hiswake leaped his shaggy bulls, vying with one another as towhich could spring the highest and which utter the mostuncanny sounds.

Korak laid his hand affectionately upon his father's shoulder.

"There is but one Tarzan," he said. "There can never be another."

Two days later the three dropped from the trees on the edgeof the plain across which they could see the smoke rising fromthe bungalow and the cook house chimneys. Tarzan of the Apeshad regained his civilized clothing from the tree where he hadhidden it, and as Korak refused to enter the presence of hismother in the savage half-raiment that he had worn so long andas Meriem would not leave him, for fear, as she explained, thathe would change his mind and run off into the jungle again, thefather went on ahead to the bungalow for horses and clothes.

My Dear met him at the gate, her eyes filled with questioningand sorrow, for she saw that Meriem was not with him.

"Where is she?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Muviri toldme that she disobeyed your instructions and ran off into thejungle after you had left them. Oh, John, I cannot bear to loseher, too!" And Lady Greystoke broke down and wept, as shepillowed her head upon the broad breast where so often beforeshe had found comfort in the great tragedies of her life.

Lord Greystoke raised her head and looked down into hereyes, his own smiling and filled with the light of happiness.

"What is it, John?" she cried. "You have good news--do notkeep me waiting for it."

"I want to be quite sure that you can stand hearing the bestnews that ever came to either of us," he said.

"Joy never kills," she cried. "You have found--her?" She couldnot bring herself to hope for the impossible.

"Yes, Jane," he said, and his voice was husky with emotion;"I have found her, and--HIM!"

"Where is he? Where are they?" she demanded.

"Out there at the edge of the jungle. He wouldn't come toyou in his savage leopard skin and his nakedness--he sent meto fetch him civilized clothing."

She clapped her hands in ecstasy, and turned to run towardthe bungalow. "Wait!" she cried over her shoulder. "I have allhis little suits--I have saved them all. I will bring one to you."

Tarzan laughed and called to her to stop.

"The only clothing on the place that will fit him," he said,"is mine--if it isn't too small for him--your little boy hasgrown, Jane."

She laughed, too; she felt like laughing at everything, orat nothing. The world was all love and happiness and joy oncemore--the world that had been shrouded in the gloom of hergreat sorrow for so many years. So great was her joy that forthe moment she forgot the sad message that awaited Meriem. She called to Tarzan after he had ridden away to prepare herfor it, but he did not hear and rode on without knowing himselfwhat the event was to which his wife referred.

And so, an hour later, Korak, The Killer, rode home to hismother--the mother whose image had never faded in his boyishheart--and found in her arms and her eyes the love andforgiveness that he plead for.

And then the mother turned toward Meriem, an expression ofpitying sorrow erasing the happiness from her eyes.

"My little girl," she said, "in the midst of our happiness agreat sorrow awaits you--Mr. Baynes did not survive his wound."

The expression of sorrow in Meriem's eyes expressed onlywhat she sincerely felt; but it was not the sorrow of a womanbereft of her best beloved.

"I am sorry," she said, quite simply. "He would have doneme a great wrong; but he amply atoned before he died. Once Ithought that I loved him. At first it was only fascination fora type that was new to me--then it was respect for a brave manwho had the moral courage to admit a sin and the physical courageto face death to right the wrong he had committed. But it wasnot love. I did not know what love was until I knew thatKorak lived," and she turned toward The Killer with a smile.

Lady Greystoke looked quickly up into the eyes of her son--the son who one day would be Lord Greystoke. No thought ofthe difference in the stations of the girl and her boy enteredher mind. To her Meriem was fit for a king. She only wanted toknow that Jack loved the little Arab waif. The look in his eyesanswered the question in her heart, and she threw her arms aboutthem both and kissed them each a dozen times.

"Now," she cried, "I shall really have a daughter!"

It was several weary marches to the nearest mission; but theyonly waited at the farm a few days for rest and preparation forthe great event before setting out upon the journey, and afterthe marriage ceremony had been performed they kept on to thecoast to take passage for England. Those days were the mostwonderful of Meriem's life. She had not dreamed even vaguely ofthe marvels that civilization held in store for her. The greatocean and the commodious steamship filled her with awe. The noise,and bustle and confusion of the English railway station frightened her.

"If there was a good-sized tree at hand," she confided to Korak,"I know that I should run to the very top of it in terror of my life."

"And make faces and throw twigs at the engine?" he laughed back.

"Poor old Numa," sighed the girl. "What will he do without us?"

"Oh, there are others to tease him, my little Mangani," assured Korak.

The Greystoke town house quite took Meriem's breath away;but when strangers were about none might guess that she hadnot been to the manner born.

They had been home but a week when Lord Greystoke receiveda message from his friend of many years, D'Arnot.

It was in the form of a letter of introduction brought by oneGeneral Armand Jacot. Lord Greystoke recalled the name, aswho familiar with modern French history would not, for Jacotwas in reality the Prince de Cadrenet--that intense republicanwho refused to use, even by courtesy, a title that had belongedto his family for four hundred years.

"There is no place for princes in a republic," he was wontto say.

Lord Greystoke received the hawk-nosed, gray mustachedsoldier in his library, and after a dozen words the two men hadformed a mutual esteem that was to endure through life.

"I have come to you," explained General Jacot, "because ourdear Admiral tells me that there is no one in all the worldwho is more intimately acquainted with Central Africa than you.

"Let me tell you my story from the beginning. Many yearsago my little daughter was stolen, presumably by Arabs, whileI was serving with the Foreign Legion in Algeria. We did allthat love and money and even government resources could do todiscover her; but all to no avail. Her picture was published inthe leading papers of every large city in the world, yet neverdid we find a man or woman who ever had seen her since the dayshe mysteriously disappeared.

"A week since there came to me in Paris a swarthy Arab, who calledhimself Abdul Kamak. He said that he had found my daughter andcould lead me to her. I took him at once to Admiral d'Arnot,whom I knew had traveled some in Central Africa. The man's storyled the Admiral to believe that the place where the white girlthe Arab supposed to be my daughter was held in captivity was notfar from your African estates, and he advised that I come at onceand call upon you--that you would know if such a girl were inyour neighborhood."

"What proof did the Arab bring that she was your daughter?"asked Lord Greystoke.

"None," replied the other. "That is why we thought best toconsult you before organizing an expedition. The fellow had onlyan old photograph of her on the back of which was pasted anewspaper cutting describing her and offering a reward. We fearedthat having found this somewhere it had aroused his cupidity andled him to believe that in some way he could obtain the reward,possibly by foisting upon us a white girl on the chance that somany years had elapsed that we would not be able to recognize animposter as such."

"Have you the photograph with you?" asked Lord Greystoke.

The General drew an envelope from his pocket, took a yellowedphotograph from it and handed it to the Englishman.

Tears dimmed the old warrior's eyes as they fell again uponthe pictured features of his lost daughter.

Lord Greystoke examined the photograph for a moment. A queerexpression entered his eyes. He touched a bell at his elbow,and an instant later a footman entered.

"Ask my son's wife if she will be so good as to come to thelibrary," he directed.

The two men sat in silence. General Jacot was too well bredto show in any way the chagrin and disappointment he felt inthe summary manner in which Lord Greystoke had dismissed thesubject of his call. As soon as the young lady had come andhe had been presented he would make his departure. A momentlater Meriem entered.

Lord Greystoke and General Jacot rose and faced her. The Englishman spoke no word of introduction--he wanted tomark the effect of the first sight of the girl's face onthe Frenchman, for he had a theory--a heaven-born theory thathad leaped into his mind the moment his eyes had rested on thebaby face of Jeanne Jacot.

General Jacot took one look at Meriem, then he turned towardLord Greystoke.

"How long have you known it?" he asked, a trifle accusingly.

"Since you showed me that photograph a moment ago," repliedthe Englishman.

"It is she," said Jacot, shaking with suppressed emotion;"but she does not recognize me--of course she could not." Then he turned to Meriem. "My child," he said, "I am your--"

But she interrupted him with a quick, glad cry, as she rantoward him with outstretched arms.

"I know you! I know you!" she cried. "Oh, now I remember,"and the old man folded her in his arms.

Jack Clayton and his mother were summoned, and when the storyhad been told them they were only glad that little Meriem hadfound a father and a mother.

"And really you didn't marry an Arab waif after all," said Meriem. "Isn't it fine!"

"You are fine," replied The Killer. "I married my little Meriem,and I don't care, for my part, whether she is an Arab, or just alittle Tarmangani."

"She is neither, my son," said General Armand Jacot. "She isa princess in her own right."