As Jane and Tarzan stood upon the vessel's deck recountingto one another the details of the various adventuresthrough which each had passed since they had parted in theirLondon home, there glared at them from beneath scowlingbrows a hidden watcher upon the shore.

Through the man's brain passed plan after plan wherebyhe might thwart the escape of the Englishman and his wife,for so long as the vital spark remained within the vindictivebrain of Alexander Paulvitch none who had aroused the enmityof the Russian might be entirely safe.

Plan after plan he formed only to discard each either asimpracticable, or unworthy the vengeance his wrongs demanded. So warped by faulty reasoning was the criminal mind ofRokoff's lieutenant that he could not grasp the realtruth of that which lay between himself and the ape-man andsee that always the fault had been, not with the English lord,but with himself and his confederate.

And at the rejection of each new scheme Paulvitch arrivedalways at the same conclusion--that he could accomplishnaught while half the breadth of the Ugambi separated himfrom the object of his hatred.

But how was he to span the crocodile-infested waters? There was no canoe nearer than the Mosula village, andPaulvitch was none too sure that the Kincaid would still beat anchor in the river when he returned should he take thetime to traverse the jungle to the distant village and returnwith a canoe. Yet there was no other way, and so, convincedthat thus alone might he hope to reach his prey, Paulvitch,with a parting scowl at the two figures upon the Kincaid'sdeck, turned away from the river.

Hastening through the dense jungle, his mind centred uponhis one fetich--revenge--the Russian forgot even his terrorof the savage world through which he moved.

Baffled and beaten at every turn of Fortune's wheel,reacted upon time after time by his own malign plotting,the principal victim of his own criminality, Paulvitchwas yet so blind as to imagine that his greatest happinesslay in a continuation of the plottings and schemings whichhad ever brought him and Rokoff to disaster, and the latterfinally to a hideous death.

As the Russian stumbled on through the jungle toward the Mosulavillage there presently crystallized within his brain a planwhich seemed more feasible than any that he had as yet considered.

He would come by night to the side of the Kincaid, andonce aboard, would search out the members of the ship'soriginal crew who had survived the terrors of this frightfulexpedition, and enlist them in an attempt to wrest the vesselfrom Tarzan and his beasts.

In the cabin were arms and ammunition, and hidden in asecret receptacle in the cabin table was one of those infernalmachines, the construction of which had occupied much ofPaulvitch's spare time when he had stood high in theconfidence of the Nihilists of his native land.

That was before he had sold them out for immunity andgold to the police of Petrograd. Paulvitch winced as herecalled the denunciation of him that had fallen from the lipsof one of his former comrades ere the poor devil expiated hispolitical sins at the end of a hempen rope.

But the infernal machine was the thing to think of now. He could do much with that if he could but get his handsupon it. Within the little hardwood case hidden in the cabintable rested sufficient potential destructiveness to wipe outin the fraction of a second every enemy aboard the Kincaid.

Paulvitch licked his lips in anticipatory joy, and urged histired legs to greater speed that he might not be too late to theship's anchorage to carry out his designs.

All depended, of course, upon when the Kincaid departed. The Russian realized that nothing could be accomplishedbeneath the light of day. Darkness must shroud his approachto the ship's side, for should he be sighted by Tarzan or LadyGreystoke he would have no chance to board the vessel.

The gale that was blowing was, he believed, the cause ofthe delay in getting the Kincaid under way, and if itcontinued to blow until night then the chances were all inhis favour, for he knew that there was little likelihoodof the ape-man attempting to navigate the tortuous channelof the Ugambi while darkness lay upon the surface of the water,hiding the many bars and the numerous small islands which arescattered over the expanse of the river's mouth.

It was well after noon when Paulvitch came to the Mosulavillage upon the bank of the tributary of the Ugambi. Here he was received with suspicion and unfriendliness by thenative chief, who, like all those who came in contact withRokoff or Paulvitch, had suffered in some manner from thegreed, the cruelty, or the lust of the two Muscovites.

When Paulvitch demanded the use of a canoe the chiefgrumbled a surly refusal and ordered the white man fromthe village. Surrounded by angry, muttering warriors whoseemed to be but waiting some slight pretext to transfix himwith their menacing spears the Russian could do naught elsethan withdraw.

A dozen fighting men led him to the edge of the clearing,leaving him with a warning never to show himself again inthe vicinity of their village.

Stifling his anger, Paulvitch slunk into the jungle; but oncebeyond the sight of the warriors he paused and listened intently. He could hear the voices of his escort as the men returnedto the village, and when he was sure that they werenot following him he wormed his way through the bushes tothe edge of the river, still determined some way to obtain a canoe.

Life itself depended upon his reaching the Kincaid andenlisting the survivors of the ship's crew in his service,for to be abandoned here amidst the dangers of the African junglewhere he had won the enmity of the natives was, he well knew,practically equivalent to a sentence of death.

A desire for revenge acted as an almost equally powerfulincentive to spur him into the face of danger to accomplishhis design, so that it was a desperate man that lay hidden inthe foliage beside the little river searching with eager eyesfor some sign of a small canoe which might be easily handledby a single paddle.

Nor had the Russian long to wait before one of the awkwardlittle skiffs which the Mosula fashion came in sightupon the bosom of the river. A youth was paddling lazily outinto midstream from a point beside the village. When hereached the channel he allowed the sluggish current to carryhim slowly along while he lolled indolently in the bottom ofhis crude canoe.

All ignorant of the unseen enemy upon the river's bankthe lad floated slowly down the stream while Paulvitchfollowed along the jungle path a few yards behind him.

A mile below the village the black boy dipped his paddleinto the water and forced his skiff toward the bank. Paulvitch, elated by the chance which had drawn the youth tothe same side of the river as that along which he followedrather than to the opposite side where he would have beenbeyond the stalker's reach, hid in the brush close besidethe point at which it was evident the skiff would touch thebank of the slow-moving stream, which seemed jealous of eachfleeting instant which drew it nearer to the broad and muddyUgambi where it must for ever lose its identity in the largerstream that would presently cast its waters into the great ocean.

Equally indolent were the motions of the Mosula youth ashe drew his skiff beneath an overhanging limb of a great treethat leaned down to implant a farewell kiss upon the bosomof the departing water, caressing with green fronds the softbreast of its languorous love.

And, snake-like, amidst the concealing foliage lay themalevolent Russ. Cruel, shifty eyes gloated upon the outlinesof the coveted canoe, and measured the stature of its owner,while the crafty brain weighed the chances of the white manshould physical encounter with the black become necessary.

Only direct necessity could drive Alexander Paulvitch topersonal conflict; but it was indeed dire necessity whichgoaded him on to action now.

There was time, just time enough, to reach the Kincaidby nightfall. Would the black fool never quit his skiff? Paulvitch squirmed and fidgeted. The lad yawned and stretched. With exasperating deliberateness he examined the arrows in hisquiver, tested his bow, and looked to the edge upon thehunting-knife in his loin-cloth.

Again he stretched and yawned, glanced up at the river-bank,shrugged his shoulders, and lay down in the bottom of his canoefor a little nap before he plunged into the jungle after the preyhe had come forth to hunt.

Paulvitch half rose, and with tensed muscles stood glaringdown upon his unsuspecting victim. The boy's lids droopedand closed. Presently his breast rose and fell to the deepbreaths of slumber. The time had come!

The Russian crept stealthily nearer. A branch rustled beneathhis weight and the lad stirred in his sleep. Paulvitch drewhis revolver and levelled it upon the black. For a moment heremained in rigid quiet, and then again the youth relapsedinto undisturbed slumber.

The white man crept closer. He could not chance a shotuntil there was no risk of missing. Presently he leaned closeabove the Mosula. The cold steel of the revolver in his handinsinuated itself nearer and nearer to the breast of theunconscious lad. Now it stopped but a few inches abovethe strongly beating heart.

But the pressure of a finger lay between the harmless boyand eternity. The soft bloom of youth still lay upon the browncheek, a smile half parted the beardless lips. Did any qualm ofconscience point its disquieting finger of reproach at the murderer?

To all such was Alexander Paulvitch immune. A sneer curledhis bearded lip as his forefinger closed upon the triggerof his revolver. There was a loud report. A little holeappeared above the heart of the sleeping boy, a little holeabout which lay a blackened rim of powder-burned flesh.

The youthful body half rose to a sitting posture. The smilinglips tensed to the nervous shock of a momentary agonywhich the conscious mind never apprehended, and then thedead sank limply back into that deepest of slumbers fromwhich there is no awakening.

The killer dropped quickly into the skiff beside the killed. Ruthless hands seized the dead boy heartlessly and raisedhim to the low gunwale. A little shove, a splash, some wideningripples broken by the sudden surge of a dark, hidden body fromthe slimy depths, and the coveted canoe was in the solepossession of the white man--more savage than the youthwhose life he had taken.

Casting off the tie rope and seizing the paddle,Paulvitch bent feverishly to the task of drivingthe skiff downward toward the Ugambi at top speed.

Night had fallen when the prow of the bloodstained craftshot out into the current of the larger stream. Constantly theRussian strained his eyes into the increasing darkness aheadin vain endeavour to pierce the black shadows which lay betweenhim and the anchorage of the Kincaid.

Was the ship still riding there upon the waters of theUgambi, or had the ape-man at last persuaded himself of thesafety of venturing forth into the abating storm? As Paulvitchforged ahead with the current he asked himself these questions,and many more beside, not the least disquieting of which werethose which related to his future should it chance that theKincaid had already steamed away, leaving him to themerciless horrors of the savage wilderness.

In the darkness it seemed to the paddler that he was fairlyflying over the water, and he had become convinced that theship had left her moorings and that he had already passed thespot at which she had lain earlier in the day, when thereappeared before him beyond a projecting point which he hadbut just rounded the flickering light from a ship's lantern.

Alexander Paulvitch could scarce restrain an exclamation of triumph.The Kincaid had not departed! Life and vengeance were not to eludehim after all.

He stopped paddling the moment that he descried the gleaming beaconof hope ahead of him. Silently he drifted down the muddy watersof the Ugambi, occasionally dipping his paddle's blade gentlyinto the current that he might guide his primitive craftto the vessel's side.

As he approached more closely the dark bulk of a shiploomed before him out of the blackness of the night. No sound came from the vessel's deck. Paulvitch drifted,unseen, close to the Kincaid's side. Only the momentaryscraping of his canoe's nose against the ship's planking brokethe silence of the night.

Trembling with nervous excitement, the Russian remainedmotionless for several minutes; but there was no sound from thegreat bulk above him to indicate that his coming had been noted.

Stealthily he worked his craft forward until the stays of thebowsprit were directly above him. He could just reach them. To make his canoe fast there was the work of but a minuteor two, and then the man raised himself quietly aloft.

A moment later he dropped softly to the deck. Thoughts ofthe hideous pack which tenanted the ship induced coldtremors along the spine of the cowardly prowler; but lifeitself depended upon the success of his venture, and so hewas enabled to steel himself to the frightful chances whichlay before him.

No sound or sign of watch appeared upon the ship's deck. Paulvitch crept stealthily toward the forecastle. All was silence. The hatch was raised, and as the manpeered downward he saw one of the Kincaid's crew readingby the light of the smoky lantern depending from the ceilingof the crew's quarters.

Paulvitch knew the man well, a surly cut-throat upon whomhe figured strongly in the carrying out of the plan which hehad conceived. Gently the Russ lowered himself through theaperture to the rounds of the ladder which led into the forecastle.

He kept his eyes turned upon the reading man, ready towarn him to silence the moment that the fellow discoveredhim; but so deeply immersed was the sailor in the magazinethat the Russian came, unobserved, to the forecastle floor.

There he turned and whispered the reader's name. The manraised his eyes from the magazine--eyes that went widefor a moment as they fell upon the familiar countenance ofRokoff's lieutenant, only to narrow instantly in a scowlof disapproval.

"The devil!" he ejaculated. "Where did you come from?We all thought you were done for and gone where you oughtto have gone a long time ago. His lordship will be mightypleased to see you."

Paulvitch crossed to the sailor's side. A friendly smile layon the Russian's lips, and his right hand was extended ingreeting, as though the other might have been a dear andlong lost friend. The sailor ignored the proffered hand,nor did he return the other's smile.

"I've come to help you," explained Paulvitch. "I'm going tohelp you get rid of the Englishman and his beasts--then therewill be no danger from the law when we get back to civilization. We can sneak in on them while they sleep--that is Greystoke,his wife, and that black scoundrel, Mugambi. Afterward it willbe a simple matter to clean up the beasts. Where are they?"

"They're below," replied the sailor; "but just let me tellyou something, Paulvitch. You haven't got no more show toturn us men against the Englishman than nothing. We hadall we wanted of you and that other beast. He's dead, an' ifI don't miss my guess a whole lot you'll be dead too before long. You two treated us like dogs, and if you think we got any lovefor you you better forget it."

"You mean to say that you're going to turn against me?"demanded Paulvitch.

The other nodded, and then after a momentary pause,during which an idea seemed to have occurred to him,he spoke again.

"Unless," he said, "you can make it worth my while tolet you go before the Englishman finds you here."

"You wouldn't turn me away in the jungle, would you?"asked Paulvitch. "Why, I'd die there in a week."

"You'd have a chance there," replied the sailor. "Here,you wouldn't have no chance. Why, if I woke up my maties herethey'd probably cut your heart out of you before the Englishmangot a chance at you at all. It's mighty lucky for you thatI'm the one to be awake now and not none of the others."

"You're crazy," cried Paulvitch. "Don't you know thatthe Englishman will have you all hanged when he gets youback where the law can get hold of you?"

"No, he won't do nothing of the kind," replied the sailor."He's told us as much, for he says that there wasn't nobody toblame but you and Rokoff--the rest of us was just tools. See?"

For half an hour the Russian pleaded or threatened as themood seized him. Sometimes he was upon the verge of tears,and again he was promising his listener either fabulousrewards or condign punishment; but the other was obdurate.[condign: of equal value]

He made it plain to the Russian that there were but two plansopen to him--either he must consent to being turned overimmediately to Lord Greystoke, or he must pay to the sailor,as a price for permission to quit the Kincaid unmolested,every cent of money and article of value upon his personand in his cabin.

"And you'll have to make up your mind mighty quick,"growled the man, "for I want to turn in. Come now, choose--his lordship or the jungle?"

"You'll be sorry for this," grumbled the Russian.

"Shut up," admonished the sailor. "If you get funny Imay change my mind, and keep you here after all."

Now Paulvitch had no intention of permitting himself tofall into the hands of Tarzan of the Apes if he could possiblyavoid it, and while the terrors of the jungle appalled him theywere, to his mind, infinitely preferable to the certain deathwhich he knew he merited and for which he might look atthe hands of the ape-man.

"Is anyone sleeping in my cabin?" he asked.

The sailor shook his head. "No," he said; "Lord and LadyGreystoke have the captain's cabin. The mate is in his own,and there ain't no one in yours."

"I'll go and get my valuables for you," said Paulvitch.

"I'll go with you to see that you don't try any funny business,"said the sailor, and he followed the Russian up the ladder to the deck.

At the cabin entrance the sailor halted to watch, permittingPaulvitch to go alone to his cabin. Here he gathered togetherhis few belongings that were to buy him the uncertain safetyof escape, and as he stood for a moment beside the littletable on which he had piled them he searched his brain forsome feasible plan either to ensure his safety or to bringrevenge upon his enemies.

And presently as he thought there recurred to his memorythe little black box which lay hidden in a secret receptaclebeneath a false top upon the table where his hand rested.

The Russian's face lighted to a sinister gleam of malevolentsatisfaction as he stooped and felt beneath the table top. A moment later he withdrew from its hiding-place the thinghe sought. He had lighted the lantern swinging from thebeams overhead that he might see to collect his belongings,and now he held the black box well in the rays of the lamplight,while he fingered at the clasp that fastened its lid.

The lifted cover revealed two compartments within the box. In one was a mechanism which resembled the works of asmall clock. There also was a little battery of two dry cells.A wire ran from the clockwork to one of the poles of thebattery, and from the other pole through the partition intothe other compartment, a second wire returning directly tothe clockwork.

Whatever lay within the second compartment was not visible,for a cover lay over it and appeared to be sealed in placeby asphaltum. In the bottom of the box, beside the clockwork,lay a key, and this Paulvitch now withdrew and fittedto the winding stem.

Gently he turned the key, muffling the noise of the windingoperation by throwing a couple of articles of clothing overthe box. All the time he listened intently for any sound whichmight indicate that the sailor or another were approachinghis cabin; but none came to interrupt his work.

When the winding was completed the Russian set a pointerupon a small dial at the side of the clockwork, then hereplaced the cover upon the black box, and returned theentire machine to its hiding-place in the table.

A sinister smile curled the man's bearded lips as he gatheredup his valuables, blew out the lamp, and stepped from his cabinto the side of the waiting sailor.

"Here are my things," said the Russian; "now let me go."

"I'll first take a look in your pockets," replied the sailor. "You might have overlooked some trifling thing that won'tbe of no use to you in the jungle, but that'll come in mightyhandy to a poor sailorman in London. Ah! just as I feared,"he ejaculated an instant later as he withdrew a roll of bank-notes from Paulvitch's inside coat pocket.

The Russian scowled, muttering an imprecation; but nothingcould be gained by argument, and so he did his best toreconcile himself to his loss in the knowledge that the sailorwould never reach London to enjoy the fruits of his thievery.

It was with difficulty that Paulvitch restrained a consumingdesire to taunt the man with a suggestion of the fate thatwould presently overtake him and the other members of theKincaid's company; but fearing to arouse the fellow'ssuspicions, he crossed the deck and lowered himself in silenceinto his canoe.

A minute or two later he was paddling toward the shore tobe swallowed up in the darkness of the jungle night, and theterrors of a hideous existence from which, could he have hadeven a slight foreknowledge of what awaited him in the longyears to come, he would have fled to the certain death of theopen sea rather than endure it.

The sailor, having made sure that Paulvitch had departed,returned to the forecastle, where he hid away his booty andturned into his bunk, while in the cabin that had belonged tothe Russian there ticked on and on through the silences ofthe night the little mechanism in the small black box whichheld for the unconscious sleepers upon the ill-starred Kincaidthe coming vengeance of the thwarted Russian.