When Clayton returned to the shelter and found Jane Porterwas missing, he became frantic with fear and grief.He found Monsieur Thuran quite rational, the fever havingleft him with the surprising suddenness which is oneof its peculiarities. The Russian, weak and exhausted,still lay upon his bed of grasses within the shelter.

When Clayton asked him about the girl he seemed surprisedto know that she was not there.

"I have heard nothing unusual," he said. "But then I havebeen unconscious much of the time."

Had it not been for the man's very evident weakness,Clayton should have suspected him of having sinisterknowledge of the girl's whereabouts; but he could see thatThuran lacked sufficient vitality even to descend, unaided,from the shelter. He could not, in his present physicalcondition, have harmed the girl, nor could he have climbedthe rude ladder back to the shelter.

Until dark the Englishman searched the nearby jungle for atrace of the missing one or a sign of the trail of her abductor.But though the spoor left by the fifty frightful men,unversed in woodcraft as they were, would have beenas plain to the densest denizen of the jungle as a city streetto the Englishman, yet he crossed and recrossed it twentytimes without observing the slightest indication that manymen had passed that way but a few short hours since.

As he searched, Clayton continued to call the girl's namealoud, but the only result of this was to attract Numa,the lion. Fortunately the man saw the shadowy form wormingits way toward him in time to climb into the branches of a treebefore the beast was close enough to reach him. This put anend to his search for the balance of the afternoon, as thelion paced back and forth beneath him until dark.

Even after the beast had left, Clayton dared not descendinto the awful blackness beneath him, and so he spent aterrifying and hideous night in the tree. The next morninghe returned to the beach, relinquishing the last hope ofsuccoring Jane Porter.

During the week that followed, Monsieur Thuran rapidlyregained his strength, lying in the shelter while Claytonhunted food for both. The men never spoke except asnecessity demanded. Clayton now occupied the section ofthe shelter which had been reserved for Jane Porter, andonly saw the Russian when he took food or water to him, orperformed the other kindly offices which common humanity required.

When Thuran was again able to descend in search of food,Clayton was stricken with fever. For days he lay tossingin delirium and suffering, but not once did the Russiancome near him. Food the Englishman could not have eaten,but his craving for water amounted practically to torture.Between the recurrent attacks of delirium, weak though hewas, he managed to reach the brook once a day and fill a tinycan that had been among the few appointments of the lifeboat.

Thuran watched him on these occasions with an expressionof malignant pleasure--he seemed really to enjoy thesuffering of the man who, despite the just contempt in whichhe held him, had ministered to him to the best of hisability while he lay suffering the same agonies.At last Clayton became so weak that he was no longerable to descend from the shelter. For a day he suffered forwater without appealing to the Russian, but finally, unableto endure it longer, he asked Thuran to fetch him a drink.The Russian came to the entrance to Clayton's room, adish of water in his hand. A nasty grin contorted his features.

"Here is water," he said. "But first let me remind you thatyou maligned me before the girl--that you kept her toyourself, and would not share her with me--"

Clayton interrupted him. "Stop!" he cried. Stop!What manner of cur are you that you traduce the characterof a good woman whom we believe dead! God! I was a foolever to let you live--you are not fit to live even inthis vile land."

"Here is your water," said the Russian. "All you willget," and he raised the basin to his lips and drank; whatwas left he threw out upon the ground below. Then he turnedand left the sick man.

Clayton rolled over, and, burying his face in his arms, gaveup the battle.

The next day Thuran determined to set out toward thenorth along the coast, for he knew that eventually he mustcome to the habitations of civilized men--at least he couldbe no worse off than he was here, and, furthermore, theravings of the dying Englishman were getting on his nerves.So he stole Clayton's spear and set off upon his journey.He would have killed the sick man before he left had it notoccurred to him that it would really have been a kindnessto do so.

That same day he came to a little cabin by the beach,and his heart filled with renewed hope as he saw thisevidence of the proximity of civilization, for he thought itbut the outpost of a nearby settlement. Had he known towhom it belonged, and that its owner was at that very momentbut a few miles inland, Nikolas Rokoff would havefled the place as he would a pestilence. But he did notknow, and so he remained for a few days to enjoy thesecurity and comparative comforts of the cabin. Then hetook up his northward journey once more.

In Lord Tennington's camp preparations were going forwardto build permanent quarters, and then to send out anexpedition of a few men to the north in search of relief.

As the days had passed without bringing the longed-forsuccor, hope that Jane Porter, Clayton, and Monsieur Thuranhad been rescued began to die. No one spoke of the matterlonger to Professor Porter, and he was so immersed in hisscientific dreaming that he was not aware of the elapse of time.

Occasionally he would remark that within a few daysthey should certainly see a steamer drop anchor off theirshore, and that then they should all be reunited happily.Sometimes he spoke of it as a train, and wondered if it werebeing delayed by snowstorms.

"If I didn't know the dear old fellow so well by now,"Tennington remarked to Miss Strong, "I should be quitecertain that he was--er--not quite right, don't you know.""If it were not so pathetic it would be ridiculous," saidthe girl, sadly. "I, who have known him all my life, knowhow he worships Jane; but to others it must seem that he isperfectly callous to her fate. It is only that he is soabsolutely impractical that he cannot conceive of so real athing as death unless nearly certain proof of it is thrustupon him."

"You'd never guess what he was about yesterday,"continued Tennington. "I was coming in alone froma little hunt when I met him walking rapidly along thegame trail that I was following back to camp. His handswere clasped beneath the tails of his long black coat,and his top hat was set firmly down upon his head,as with eyes bent upon the ground he hastened on,probably to some sudden death had I not intercepted him.

"`Why, where in the world are you bound, professor?' Iasked him. `I am going into town, Lord Tennington,' he said,as seriously as possible, `to complain to the postmaster aboutthe rural free delivery service we are suffering from here.Why, sir, I haven't had a piece of mail in weeks. There shouldbe several letters for me from Jane. The matter must bereported to Washington at once.'

"And would you believe it, Miss Strong," continued Tennington,"I had the very deuce of a job to convince the oldfellow that there was not only no rural free delivery, butno town, and that he was not even on the same continent asWashington, nor in the same hemisphere.

"When he did realize he commenced to worry about hisdaughter--I think it is the first time that he reallyhas appreciated our position here, or the fact that MissPorter may not have been rescued."

"I hate to think about it," said the girl, "and yet I canthink of nothing else than the absent members of our party."

"Let us hope for the best," replied Tennington. "You yourselfhave set us each a splendid example of bravery, for in away your loss has been the greatest."

"Yes," she replied; "I could have loved Jane Porter no morehad she been my own sister."

Tennington did not show the surprise he felt. That was notat all what he meant. He had been much with this fairdaughter of Maryland since the wreck of the LADY ALICE,and it had recently come to him that he had grown much morefond of her than would prove good for the peace of his mind,for he recalled almost constantly now the confidence whichMonsieur Thuran had imparted to him that he and Miss Strongwere engaged. He wondered if, after all, Thuran had beenquite accurate in his statement. He had never seen the slightestindication on the girl's part of more than ordinary friendship.

"And then in Monsieur Thuran's loss, if they are lost, youwould suffer a severe bereavement," he ventured.

She looked up at him quickly. "Monsieur Thuran had becomea very dear friend," she said. "I liked him very much,though I have known him but a short time."

"Then you were not engaged to marry him?" he blurted out."Heavens, nol!" she cried. "I did not care for him at allin that way."

There was something that Lord Tennington wanted to sayto Hazel Strong--he wanted very badly to say it, and tosay it at once; but somehow the words stuck in his throat.He started lamely a couple of times, cleared his throat,became red in the face, and finally ended by remarkingthat he hoped the cabins would be finished before therainy season commenced.

But, though he did not know it, he had conveyed to thegirl the very message he intended, and it left her happy--happier than she had ever before been in all her life.

Just then further conversation was interrupted by the sightof a strange and terrible-looking figure which emerged fromthe jungle just south of the camp. Tennington and the girlsaw it at the same time. The Englishman reached for hisrevolver, but when the half-naked, bearded creature calledhis name aloud and came running toward them he droppedhis hand and advanced to meet it.

None would have recognized in the filthy, emaciated creature,covered by a single garment of small skins, the immaculateMonsieur Thuran the party had last seen upon the deckof the LADY ALICE.

Before the other members of the little community were apprisedof his presence Tennington and Miss Strong questioned himregarding the other occupants of the missing boat.

"They are all dead," replied Thuran. "The three sailorsdied before we made land. Miss Porter was carried off intothe jungle by some wild animal while I was lying deliriouswith fever. Clayton died of the same fever but a few days since.And to think that all this time we have been separated bybut a few miles--scarcely a day's march. It is terrible!"

How long Jane Porter lay in the darkness of the vault beneaththe temple in the ancient city of Opar she did not know.For a time she was delirious with fever, but after thispassed she commenced slowly to regain her strength.Every day the woman who brought her food beckoned to herto arise, but for many days the girl could only shake herhead to indicate that she was too weak.

But eventually she was able to gain her feet, and then tostagger a few steps by supporting herself with one handupon the wall. Her captors now watched her withincreasing interest. The day was approaching, and thevictim was gaining in strength.

Presently the day came, and a young woman whom Jane Porterhad not seen before came with several others to her dungeon.Here some sort of ceremony was performed--that it was ofa religious nature the girl was sure, and so she tooknew heart, and rejoiced that she had fallen among peopleupon whom the refining and softening influences of religionevidently had fallen. They would treat her humanely--ofthat she was now quite sure.

And so when they led her from her dungeon, through long,dark corridors, and up a flight of concrete steps to a brilliantcourtyard, she went willingly, even gladly--for was she notamong the servants of God? It might be, of course, that theirinterpretation of the supreme being differed from her own,but that they owned a god was sufficient evidence to her thatthey were kind and good.

But when she saw a stone altar in the center of the courtyard,and dark-brown stains upon it and the nearby concrete ofthe floor, she began to wonder and to doubt. And as theystooped and bound her ankles, and secured her wristsbehind her, her doubts were turned to fear. A moment later,as she was lifted and placed supine across the altar's top,hope left her entirely, and she trembled in an agony of fright.

During the grotesque dance of the votaries which followed,she lay frozen in horror, nor did she require the sightof the thin blade in the hands of the high priestess as itrose slowly above her to enlighten her further as to her doom.

As the hand began its descent, Jane Porter closed her eyesand sent up a silent prayer to the Maker she was so soon toface--then she succumbed to the strain upon her tirednerves, and swooned.

Day and night Tarzan of the Apes raced through the primevalforest toward the ruined city in which he was positivethe woman he loved lay either a prisoner or dead.

In a day and a night he covered the same distance thatthe fifty frightful men had taken the better part of a week totraverse, for Tarzan of the Apes traveled along the middleterrace high above the tangled obstacles that impedeprogress upon the ground.

The story the young bull ape had told made it clear to himthat the girl captive had been Jane Porter, for there was notanother small white "she" in all the jungle. The "bulls" hehad recognized from the ape's crude description as thegrotesque parodies upon humanity who inhabit the ruins of Opar.And the girl's fate he could picture as plainly as thoughhe were an eyewitness to it. When they would lay her acrossthat trim altar he could not guess, but that her dear, frailbody would eventually find its way there he was confident.

But, finally, after what seemed long ages to the impatientape-man, he topped the barrier cliffs that hemmed the desolatevalley, and below him lay the grim and awful ruins ofthe now hideous city of Opar. At a rapid trot he startedacross the dry and dusty, bowlder-strewn ground toward thegoal of his desires.

Would he be in time to rescue? He hoped against hope.At least he could be revenged, and in his wrath it seemedto him that he was equal to the task of wiping out the entirepopulation of that terrible city. It was nearly noon when hereached the great bowlder at the top of which terminated thesecret passage to the pits beneath the city. Like a cat he scaledthe precipitous sides of the frowning granite KOPJE.A moment later he was running through the darkness of thelong, straight tunnel that led to the treasure vault.Through this he passed, then on and on until at last hecame to the well-like shaft upon the opposite side of whichlay the dungeon with the false wall.

As he paused a moment upon the brink of the well a faintsound came to him through the opening above. His quickears caught and translated it--it was the dance of death thatpreceded a sacrifice, and the singsong ritual of thehigh priestess. He could even recognize the woman's voice.Could it be that the ceremony marked the very thing hehad so hastened to prevent? A wave of horror swept over him.Was he, after all, to be just a moment too late? Like afrightened deer he leaped across the narrow chasm to thecontinuation of the passage beyond. At the false wall hetore like one possessed to demolish the barrier thatconfronted him--with giant muscles he forced the opening,thrusting his head and shoulders through the first smallhole he made, and carrying the balance of the wall with him,to clatter resoundingly upon the cement floor of the dungeon.

With a single leap he cleared the length of the chamber andthrew himself against the ancient door. But here he stopped.The mighty bars upon the other side were proof even againstsuch muscles as his. It needed but a moment's effort toconvince him of the futility of endeavoring to force thatimpregnable barrier. There was but one other way, and thatled back through the long tunnels to the bowlder a milebeyond the city's walls, and then back across the open ashe had come to the city first with his Waziri.

He realized that to retrace his steps and enter the cityfrom above ground would mean that he would be too late tosave the girl, if it were indeed she who lay upon the sacrificialaltar above him. But there seemed no other way, and so heturned and ran swiftly back into the passageway beyond thebroken wall. At the well he heard again the monotonousvoice of the high priestess, and, as he glanced aloft, theopening, twenty feet above, seemed so near that he wastempted to leap for it in a mad endeavor to reach the innercourtyard that lay so near.

If he could but get one end of his grass rope caught uponsome projection at the top of that tantalizing aperture!In the instant's pause and thought an idea occurred to him.He would attempt it. Turning back to the tumbled wall,he seized one of the large, flat slabs that had composed it.Hastily making one end of his rope fast to the piece of granite,he returned to the shaft, and, coiling the balance of the rope onthe floor beside him, the ape-man took the heavy slab in bothhands, and, swinging it several times to get the distance andthe direction fixed, he let the weight fly up at a slight angle,so that, instead of falling straight back into the shaft again,it grazed the far edge, tumbling over into the court beyond.

Tarzan dragged for a moment upon the slack end of therope until he felt that the stone was lodged with fairsecurity at the shaft's top, then he swung out over the blackdepths beneath. The moment his full weight came upon therope he felt it slip from above. He waited there in awfulsuspense as it dropped in little jerks, inch by inch.The stone was being dragged up the outside of the masonrysurrounding the top of the shaft--would it catch at the very edge,or would his weight drag it over to fall upon him as he hurtledinto the unknown depths below?