LORD GREYSTOKE was hunting, or, to be more accurate,he was shooting pheasants at Chamston-Hedding. LordGreystoke was immaculately and appropriately garbed--tothe minutest detail he was vogue. To be sure, he was amongthe forward guns, not being considered a sporting shot,but what he lacked in skill he more than made upin appearance. At the end of the day he would, doubtless,have many birds to his credit, since he had two gunsand a smart loader-- many more birds than he could eatin a year, even had he been hungry, which he was not,having but just arisen from the breakfast table.

The beaters--there were twenty-three of them, in whitesmocks--had but just driven the birds into a patch of gorse,and were now circling to the opposite side that theymight drive down toward the guns. Lord Greystoke wasquite as excited as he ever permitted himself to become. There was an exhilaration in the sport that would notbe denied. He felt his blood tingling through his veinsas the beaters approached closer and closer to the birds. In a vague and stupid sort of way Lord Greystoke felt,as he always felt upon such occasions, that he wasexperiencing a sensation somewhat akin to a reversionto a prehistoric type--that the blood of an ancient forbearwas coursing hot through him, a hairy, half-naked forbearwho had lived by the hunt.

And far away in a matted equatorial jungle anotherLord Greystoke, the real Lord Greystoke, hunted. By thestandards which he knew, he, too, was vogue--utterly vogue,as was the primal ancestor before the first eviction. The day being sultry, the leopard skin had been left behind. The real Lord Greystoke had not two guns, to be sure,nor even one, neither did he have a smart loader; but hepossessed something infinitely more efficacious than guns,or loaders, or even twenty-three beaters in white smocks--hepossessed an appetite, an uncanny woodcraft, and musclesthat were as steel springs.

Later that day, in England, a Lord Greystoke ate bountifullyof things he had not killed, and he drank other thingswhich were uncorked to the accompaniment of much noise. He patted his lips with snowy linen to remove the fainttraces of his repast, quite ignorant of the fact that he wasan impostor and that the rightful owner of his noble titlewas even then finishing his own dinner in far-off Africa. He was not using snowy linen, though. Instead he drewthe back of a brown forearm and hand across his mouthand wiped his bloody fingers upon his thighs. Then hemoved slowly through the jungle to the drinking place,where, upon all fours, he drank as drank his fellows,the other beasts of the jungle.

As he quenched his thirst, another denizen of the gloomyforest approached the stream along the path behind him. It was Numa, the lion, tawny of body and black of mane,scowling and sinister, rumbling out low, coughing roars. Tarzan of the Apes heard him long before he came within sight,but the ape-man went on with his drinking until he had hadhis fill; then he arose, slowly, with the easy grace of acreature of the wilds and all the quiet dignity that washis birthright.

Numa halted as he saw the man standing at the very spotwhere the king would drink. His jaws were parted, and hiscruel eyes gleamed. He growled and advanced slowly. The man growled, too, backing slowly to one side,and watching, not the lion's face, but its tail. Should that commence to move from side to side in quick,nervous jerks, it would be well to be upon the alert,and should it rise suddenly erect, straight and stiff,then one might prepare to fight or flee; but it did neither,so Tarzan merely backed away and the lion came down and drankscarce fifty feet from where the man stood.

Tomorrow they might be at one another's throats, but todaythere existed one of those strange and inexplicable truceswhich so often are seen among the savage ones of the jungle. Before Numa had finished drinking, Tarzan had returnedinto the forest, and was swinging away in the directionof the village of Mbonga, the black chief.

It had been at least a moon since the ape-man had called uponthe Gomangani. Not since he had restored little Tibo to hisgrief-stricken mother had the whim seized him to do so. The incident of the adopted balu was a closed one to Tarzan. He had sought to find something upon which to lavish suchan affection as Teeka lavished upon her balu, but a shortexperience of the little black boy had made it quite plainto the ape-man that no such sentiment could exist between them.

The fact that he had for a time treated the little blackas he might have treated a real balu of his own hadin no way altered the vengeful sentiments with which heconsidered the murderers of Kala. The Gomangani werehis deadly enemies, nor could they ever be aught else. Today he looked forward to some slight relief fromthe monotony of his existence in such excitement as hemight derive from baiting the blacks.

It was not yet dark when he reached the village and tookhis place in the great tree overhanging the palisade. From beneath came a great wailing out of the depthsof a near-by hut. The noise fell disagreeably uponTarzan's ears--it jarred and grated. He did not like it,so he decided to go away for a while in the hopes that itmight cease; but though he was gone for a couple of hoursthe wailing still continued when he returned.

With the intention of putting a violent termination to theannoying sound, Tarzan slipped silently from the tree intothe shadows beneath. Creeping stealthily and keeping wellin the cover of other huts, he approached that from which rosethe sounds of lamentation. A fire burned brightly beforethe doorway as it did before other doorways in the village. A few females squatted about, occasionally adding theirown mournful howlings to those of the master artist within.

The ape-man smiled a slow smile as he thought of theconsternationwhich would follow the quick leap that would carry himamong the females and into the full light of the fire. Then he would dart into the hut during the excitement,throttle the chief screamer, and be gone into the junglebefore the blacks could gather their scattered nerves for anassault.

Many times had Tarzan behaved similarly in the villageof Mbonga, the chief. His mysterious and unexpectedappearances always filled the breasts of the poor,superstitious blacks with the panic of terror; never,it seemed, could they accustom themselves to the sightof him. It was this terror which lent to the adventuresthe spice of interest and amusement which the humanmind of the ape-man craved. Merely to kill was not initself sufficient. Accustomed to the sight of death,Tarzan found no great pleasure in it. Long since had heavenged the death of Kala, but in the accomplishment of it,he had learned the excitement and the pleasure to be derivedfrom the baiting of the blacks. Of this he never tired.

It was just as he was about to spring forward with a savageroar that a figure appeared in the doorway of the hut. It was the figure of the wailer whom he had come to still,the figure of a young woman with a wooden skewerthrough the split septum of her nose, with a heavymetal ornament depending from her lower lip, which ithad dragged down to hideous and repulsive deformity,with strange tattooing upon forehead, cheeks, and breasts,and a wonderful coiffure built up with mud and wire.

A sudden flare of the fire threw the grotesque figureinto high relief, and Tarzan recognized her as Momaya,the mother of Tibo. The fire also threw out a fitfulflame which carried to the shadows where Tarzan lurked,picking out his light brown body from the surrounding darkness. Momaya saw him and knew him. With a cry, she leapedforward and Tarzan came to meet her. The other women,turning, saw him, too; but they did not come toward him. Instead they rose as one, shrieked as one, fled as one.

Momaya threw herself at Tarzan's feet, raising supplicatinghands toward him and pouring forth from her mutilatedlips a perfect cataract of words, not one of whichthe ape-man comprehended. For a moment he lookeddown upon the upturned, frightful face of the woman. He had come to slay, but that overwhelming torrentof speech filled him with consternation and with awe. He glanced about him apprehensively, then back at the woman. A revulsion of feeling seized him. He could not killlittle Tibo's mother, nor could he stand and face thisverbal geyser. With a quick gesture of impatience atthe spoiling of his evening's entertainment, he wheeledand leaped away into the darkness. A moment later hewas swinging through the black jungle night, the criesand lamentations of Momaya growing fainter in the distance.

It was with a sigh of relief that he finally reacheda point from which he could no longer hear them,and finding a comfortable crotch high among the trees,composed himself for a night of dreamless slumber,while a prowling lion moaned and coughed beneath him,and in far-off England the other Lord Greystoke,with the assistance of a valet, disrobed and crawledbetween spotless sheets, swearing irritably as a catmeowed beneath his window.

As Tarzan followed the fresh spoor of Horta, the boar,the following morning, he came upon the tracks of two Gomangani,a large one and a small one. The ape-man, accustomed as hewas to questioning closely all that fell to his perceptions,paused to read the story written in the soft mud of thegame trail. You or I would have seen little of interestthere, even if, by chance, we could have seen aught. Perhaps had one been there to point them out to us,we might have noted indentations in the mud, but therewere countless indentations, one overlapping another intoa confusion that would have been entirely meaningless to us. To Tarzan each told its own story. Tantor, the elephant,had passed that way as recently as three suns since. Numa had hunted here the night just gone, and Horta,the boar, had walked slowly along the trail within an hour;but what held Tarzan's attention was the spoor tale ofthe Gomangani. It told him that the day before an old manhad gone toward the north in company with a little boy,and that with them had been two hyenas.

Tarzan scratched his head in puzzled incredulity. He could see by the overlapping of the footprints thatthe beasts had not been following the two, for sometimesone was ahead of them and one behind, and again both werein advance, or both were in the rear. It was very strangeand quite inexplicable, especially where the spoor showedwhere the hyenas in the wider portions of the path had walkedone on either side of the human pair, quite close to them. Then Tarzan read in the spoor of the smaller Gomangania shrinking terror of the beast that brushed his side,but in that of the old man was no sign of fear.

At first Tarzan had been solely occupied by the remarkablejuxtaposition of the spoor of Dango and Gomangani,but now his keen eyes caught something in the spoor ofthe little Gomangani which brought him to a sudden stop. It was as though, finding a letter in the road, you suddenlyhad discovered in it the familiar handwriting of a friend.

"Go-bu-balu!" exclaimed the ape-man, and at once memoryflashed upon the screen of recollection the supplicatingattitude of Momaya as she had hurled herself beforehim in the village of Mbonga the night before. Instantly all was explained--the wailing and lamentation,the pleading of the black mother, the sympathetic howlingof the shes about the fire. Little Go-bu-balu had beenstolen again, and this time by another than Tarzan. Doubtless the mother had thought that he was again in thepower of Tarzan of the Apes, and she had been beseechinghim to return her balu to her.

Yes, it was all quite plain now; but who could have stolenGo-bu-balu this time? Tarzan wondered, and he wondered,too, about the presence of Dango. He would investigate. The spoor was a day old and it ran toward the north. Tarzan set out to follow it. In places it was totallyobliterated by the passage of many beasts, and where the waywas rocky, even Tarzan of the Apes was almost baffled;but there was still the faint effluvium which clung tothe human spoor, appreciable only to such highly trainedperceptive powers as were Tarzan's.

It had all happened to little Tibo very suddenly and unexpectedlywithin the brief span of two suns. First had come Bukawai,the witch-doctor--Bukawai, the unclean--with the raggedbit of flesh which still clung to his rotting face. He had come alone and by day to the place at the riverwhere Momaya went daily to wash her body and that of Tibo,her little boy. He had stepped out from behind a greatbush quite close to Momaya, frightening little Tiboso that he ran screaming to his mother's protecting arms.

But Momaya, though startled, had wheeled to face thefearsome thing with all the savage ferocity of a she-tigerat bay. When she saw who it was, she breathed a sighof partial relief, though she still clung tightly to Tibo.

"I have come," said Bukawai without preliminary,"for the three fat goats, the new sleeping mat,and the bit of copper wire as long as a tall man's arm."

"I have no goats for you," snapped Momaya, "nor a sleeping mat,nor any wire. Your medicine was never made. The whitejungle god gave me back my Tibo. You had nothing to do with it."

"But I did," mumbled Bukawai through his fleshless jaws. "It was I who commanded the white jungle god to give backyour Tibo."

Momaya laughed in his face. "Speaker of lies," she cried,"go back to your foul den and your hyenas. Go backand hide your stinking face in the belly of the mountain,lest the sun, seeing it, cover his face with a black cloud."

"I have come," reiterated Bukawai, "for the three fat goats,the new sleeping mat, and the bit of copper wire the lengthof a tall man's arm, which you were to pay me for the return ofyour Tibo."

"It was to be the length of a man's forearm," corrected Momaya,"but you shall have nothing, old thief. You would notmake medicine until I had brought the payment in advance,and when I was returning to my village the great,white jungle god gave me back my Tibo--gave him to me outof the jaws of Numa. His medicine is true medicine-- yoursis the weak medicine of an old man with a hole in his face."

"I have come," repeated Bukawai patiently, "for thethree fat--" But Momaya had not waited to hear moreof what she already knew by heart. Clasping Tibo closeto her side, she was hurrying away toward the palisadedvillage of Mbonga, the chief.

And the next day, when Momaya was working in the plantainfield with others of the women of the tribe, and littleTibo had been playing at the edge of the jungle, casting asmall spear in anticipation of the distant day when heshould be a full-fledged warrior, Bukawai had come again.

Tibo had seen a squirrel scampering up the bole of agreat tree. His childish mind had transformed it intothe menacing figure of a hostile warrior. Little Tibohad raised his tiny spear, his heart filled with the savageblood lust of his race, as he pictured the night's orgywhen he should dance about the corpse of his human killas the women of his tribe prepared the meat for the feast tofollow.

But when he cast the spear, he missed both squirrel and tree,losing his missile far among the tangled undergrowth ofthe jungle. However, it could be but a few steps withinthe forbidden labyrinth. The women were all about inthe field. There were warriors on guard within easy hail,and so little Tibo boldly ventured into the dark place.

Just behind the screen of creepers and matted foliage lurkedthree horrid figures--an old, old man, black as the pit,with a face half eaten away by leprosy, his sharp-filed teeth,the teeth of a cannibal, showing yellow and repulsivethrough the great gaping hole where his mouth and nosehad been. And beside him, equally hideous, stood twopowerful hyenas--carrion-eaters consorting with carrion.

Tibo did not see them until, head down, he had forcedhis way through the thickly growing vines in search of hislittle spear, and then it was too late. As he looked upinto the face of Bukawai, the old witch-doctor seized him,muffling his screams with a palm across his mouth. Tibo struggled futilely.

A moment later he was being hustled away through the darkand terrible jungle, the frightful old man still mufflinghis screams, and the two hideous hyenas pacing now oneither side, now before, now behind, always prowling,always growling, snapping, snarling, or, worst of all,laughing hideously.

To little Tibo, who within his brief existence had passedthrough such experiences as are given to few to passthrough in a lifetime, the northward journey was a nightmareof terror. He thought now of the time that he had beenwith the great, white jungle god, and he prayed with allhis little soul that he might be back again with thewhite-skinned giant who consorted with the hairy tree men. Terror-stricken he had been then, but his surroundingshad been nothing by comparison with those which he now endured.

The old man seldom addressed Tibo, though he kept upan almost continuous mumbling throughout the long day. Tibo caught repeated references to fat goats, sleeping mats,and pieces of copper wire. "Ten fat goats, ten fat goats,"the old Negro would croon over and over again. By thislittle Tibo guessed that the price of his ransom had risen. Ten fat goats? Where would his mother get ten fat goats,or thin ones, either, for that matter, to buy back justa poor little boy? Mbonga would never let her have them,and Tibo knew that his father never had owned more thanthree goats at the same time in all his life. Ten fatgoats! Tibo sniffled. The putrid old man would kill himand eat him, for the goats would never be forthcoming. Bukawai would throw his bones to the hyenas. The littleblack boy shuddered and became so weak that he almost fellin his tracks. Bukawai cuffed him on an ear and jerkedhim along.

After what seemed an eternity to Tibo, they arrived atthe mouth of a cave between two rocky hills. The openingwas low and narrow. A few saplings bound togetherwith strips of rawhide closed it against stray beasts. Bukawai removed the primitive door and pushed Tibo within. The hyenas, snarling, rushed past him and were lost toview in the blackness of the interior. Bukawai replacedthe saplings and seizing Tibo roughly by the arm,dragged him along a narrow, rocky passage. The floorwas comparatively smooth, for the dirt which lay thickupon it had been trodden and tramped by many feet untilfew inequalities remained.

The passage was tortuous, and as it was very darkand the walls rough and rocky, Tibo was scratched andbruised from the many bumps he received. Bukawai walkedas rapidly through the winding gallery as one wouldtraverse a familiar lane by daylight. He knew everytwist and turn as a mother knows the face of her child,and he seemed to be in a hurry. He jerked poor littleTibo possibly a trifle more ruthlessly than necessaryeven at the pace Bukawai set; but the old witch-doctor,an outcast from the society of man, diseased, shunned,hated, feared, was far from possessing an angelic temper. Nature had given him few of the kindlier characteristicsof man, and these few Fate had eradicated entirely. Shrewd, cunning, cruel, vindictive, was Bukawai, thewitch-doctor.

Frightful tales were whispered of the cruel tortures heinflicted upon his victims. Children were frightened intoobedience by the threat of his name. Often had Tibo beenthus frightened, and now he was reaping a grisly harvestof terror from the seeds his mother had innocently sown. The darkness, the presence of the dreaded witch-doctor,the pain of the contusions, with a haunting premonitionof the future, and the fear of the hyenas combined toalmost paralyze the child. He stumbled and reeled untilBukawai was dragging rather than leading him.

Presently Tibo saw a faint lightness ahead of them,and a moment later they emerged into a roughly circularchamber to which a little daylight filtered througha rift in the rocky ceiling. The hyenas were thereahead of them, waiting. As Bukawai entered with Tibo,the beasts slunk toward them, baring yellow fangs. They were hungry. Toward Tibo they came, and one snappedat his naked legs. Bukawai seized a stick from the floorof the chamber and struck a vicious blow at the beast,at the same time mumbling forth a volley of execrations. The hyena dodged and ran to the side of the chamber, where hestood growling. Bukawai took a step toward the creature,which bristled with rage at his approach. Fear and hatredshot from its evil eyes, but, fortunately for Bukawai,fear predominated.

Seeing that he was unnoticed, the second beast made a short,quick rush for Tibo. The child screamed and darted afterthe witch-doctor, who now turned his attention to thesecond hyena. This one he reached with his heavy stick,striking it repeatedly and driving it to the wall. There the two carrion-eaters commenced to circle the chamberwhile the human carrion, their master, now in a perfectfrenzy of demoniacal rage, ran to and fro in an effortto intercept them, striking out with his cudgel and lashingthem with his tongue, calling down upon them the cursesof whatever gods and demons he could summon to memory,and describing in lurid figures the ignominy of their ancestors.

Several times one or the other of the beasts would turnto make a stand against the witch-doctor, and then Tibowould hold his breath in agonized terror, for never in hisbrief life had he seen such frightful hatred depicted uponthe countenance of man or beast; but always fear overcamethe rage of the savage creatures, so that they resumedtheir flight, snarling and bare-fanged, just at the momentthat Tibo was certain they would spring at Bukawai's throat.

At last the witch-doctor tired of the futile chase. With a snarl quite as bestial as those of the beast,he turned toward Tibo. "I go to collect the ten fat goats,the new sleeping mat, and the two pieces of copper wirethat your mother will pay for the medicine I shall maketo bring you back to her," he said. "You will stay here. There," and he pointed toward the passage which theyhad followed to the chamber, "I will leave the hyenas. If you try to escape, they will eat you."

He cast aside the stick and called to the beasts. They came, snarling and slinking, their tails betweentheir legs. Bukawai led them to the passage and drovethem into it. Then he dragged a rude lattice intoplace before the opening after he, himself, had leftthe chamber. "This will keep them from you," he said. "If I do not get the ten fat goats and the other things,they shall at least have a few bones after I am through."And he left the boy to think over the meaning of hisall-too-suggestive words.

When he was gone, Tibo threw himself upon the earth floorand broke into childish sobs of terror and loneliness. He knew that his mother had no ten fat goats to giveand that when Bukawai returned, little Tibo wouldbe killed and eaten. How long he lay there he didnot know, but presently he was aroused by the growlingof the hyenas. They had returned through the passageand were glaring at him from beyond the lattice. He couldsee their yellow eyes blazing through the darkness. They reared up and clawed at the barrier. Tibo shiveredand withdrew to the opposite side of the chamber. He sawthe lattice sag and sway to the attacks of the beasts. Momentarily he expected that it would fall inward,letting the creatures upon him.

Wearily the horror-ridden hours dragged their slow way. Night came, and for a time Tibo slept, but it seemedthat the hungry beasts never slept. Always they stoodjust beyond the lattice growling their hideous growlsor laughing their hideous laughs. Through the narrow riftin the rocky roof above him, Tibo could see a few stars,and once the moon crossed. At last daylight came again. Tibo was very hungry and thirsty, for he had not eatensince the morning before, and only once upon the long marchhad he been permitted to drink, but even hunger and thirstwere almost forgotten in the terror of his position.

It was after daylight that the child discovered a secondopening in the walls of the subterranean chamber,almost opposite that at which the hyenas still stoodglaring hungrily at him. It was only a narrow slitin the rocky wall. It might lead in but a few feet,or it might lead to freedom! Tibo approached it andlooked within. He could see nothing. He extended his arminto the blackness, but he dared not venture farther. Bukawai never would have left open a way of escape,Tibo reasoned, so this passage must lead either nowhereor to some still more hideous danger.

To the boy's fear of the actual dangers which menacedhim--Bukawai and the two hyenas--his superstition addedcountless others quite too horrible even to name,for in the lives of the blacks, through the shadows ofthe jungle day and the black horrors of the jungle night,flit strange, fantastic shapes peopling the alreadyhideously peopled forests with menacing figures, as thoughthe lion and the leopard, the snake and the hyena,and the countless poisonous insects were not quitesufficient to strike terror to the hearts of the poor,simple creatures whose lot is cast in earth's most fearsome spot.

And so it was that little Tibo cringed not only fromreal menaces but from imaginary ones. He was afraideven to venture upon a road that might lead to escape,lest Bukawai had set to watch it some frightful demonof the jungle.

But the real menaces suddenly drove the imaginary onesfrom the boy's mind, for with the coming of daylightthe half-famished hyenas renewed their efforts to breakdown the frail barrier which kept them from their prey. Rearing upon their hind feet they clawed and struck atthe lattice. With wide eyes Tibo saw it sag and rock. Not for long, he knew, could it withstand the assaultsof these two powerful and determined brutes. Already onecorner had been forced past the rocky protuberance of theentrance way which had held it in place. A shaggy forearmprotruded into the chamber. Tibo trembled as with ague,for he knew that the end was near.

Backing against the farther wall he stood flattened outas far from the beasts as he could get. He saw the latticegive still more. He saw a savage, snarling head forcedpast it, and grinning jaws snapping and gaping toward him. In another instant the pitiful fabric would fall inward,and the two would be upon him, rending his flesh fromhis bones, gnawing the bones themselves, fighting forpossession of his entrails.

* * *

Bukawai came upon Momaya outside the palisade of Mbonga,the chief. At sight of him the woman drew back in revulsion,then she flew at him, tooth and nail; but Bukawaithreatening her with a spear held her at a safe distance.

"Where is my baby?" she cried. "Where is my little Tibo?"

Bukawai opened his eyes in well-simulated amazement. "Your baby!" he exclaimed. "What should I know of him,other than that I rescued him from the white godof the jungle and have not yet received my pay. I come for the goats and the sleeping mat and the pieceof copper wire the length of a tall man's arm from theshoulder to the tips of his fingers." "Offal of a hyena!"shrieked Momaya. "My child has been stolen, and you,rotting fragment of a man, have taken him. Return himto me or I shall tear your eyes from your head and feedyour heart to the wild hogs."

Bukawai shrugged his shoulders. "What do I know aboutyour child?" he asked. "I have not taken him. If he isstolen again, what should Bukawai know of the matter? DidBukawai steal him before? No, the white jungle god stole him,and if he stole him once he would steal him again. It is nothing to me. I returned him to you before and Ihave come for my pay. If he is gone and you wouldhave him returned, Bukawai will return him--for tenfat goats, a new sleeping mat and two pieces of copperwire the length of a tall man's arm from the shoulderto the tips of his fingers, and Bukawai will say nothingmore about the goats and the sleeping mat and the copperwire which you were to pay for the first medicine."

"Ten fat goats!" screamed Momaya. "I could not pay youten fat goats in as many years. Ten fat goats, indeed!"

"Ten fat goats," repeated Bukawai. "Ten fat goats,the new sleeping mat and two pieces of copper wirethe length of--"

Momaya stopped him with an impatient gesture. "Wait! she cried. "I have no goats. You waste your breath. Stay here while I go to my man. He has but three goats,yet something may be done. Wait!"

Bukawai sat down beneath a tree. He felt quite content,for he knew that he should have either payment or revenge. He did not fear harm at the hands of these peopleof another tribe, although he well knew that they mustfear and hate him. His leprosy alone would preventtheir laying hands upon him, while his reputation as awitch-doctor rendered him doubly immune from attack. He was planning upon compelling them to drive the tengoats to the mouth of his cave when Momaya returned. With her were three warriors-- Mbonga, the chief, Rabba Kega,the village witch-doctor, and Ibeto, Tibo's father. They were not pretty men even under ordinary circumstances,and now, with their faces marked by anger, they wellmight have inspired terror in the heart of anyone;but if Bukawai felt any fear, he did not betray it. Instead he greeted them with an insolent stare, intended toawe them, as they came and squatted in a semi-circlebefore him.

"Where is Ibeto's son?" asked Mbonga.

"How should I know?" returned Bukawai. "Doubtless thewhite devil-god has him. If I am paid I will make strongmedicine and then we shall know where is Ibeto's son,and shall get him back again. It was my medicine whichgot him back the last time, for which I got no pay."

"I have my own witch-doctor to make medicine,"replied Mbonga with dignity.

Bukawai sneered and rose to his feet. "Very well,"he said, "let him make his medicine and see if hecan bring Ibeto's son back." He took a few stepsaway from them, and then he turned angrily back. "His medicine will not bring the child back--that I know,and I also know that when you find him it will be too latefor any medicine to bring him back, for he will be dead. This have I just found out, the ghost of my father'ssister but now came to me and told me."

Now Mbonga and Rabba Kega might not take much stockin their own magic, and they might even be skepticalas to the magic of another; but there was always a chanceof SOMETHING being in it, especially if it were nottheir own. Was it not well known that old Bukawai hadspeech with the demons themselves and that two even livedwith him in the forms of hyenas! Still they must notaccede too hastily. There was the price to be considered,and Mbonga had no intention of parting lightly with tengoats to obtain the return of a single little boy who mightdie of smallpox long before he reached a warrior's estate.

"Wait," said Mbonga. "Let us see some of your magic,that we may know if it be good magic. Then we can talkabout payment. Rabba Kega will make some magic, too. We will see who makes the best magic. Sit down, Bukawai."

"The payment will be ten goats--fat goats--a new sleepingmat and two pieces of copper wire the length of a tallman's arm from the shoulder to the ends of his fingers,and it will be made in advance, the goats being drivento my cave. Then will I make the medicine, and onthe second day the boy will be returned to his mother. It cannot be done more quickly than that because it takestime to make such strong medicine."

"Make us some medicine now," said Mbonga. "Let us seewhat sort of medicine you make."

"Bring me fire," replied Bukawai, "and I will make youa little magic."

Momaya was dispatched for the fire, and while she was awayMbonga dickered with Bukawai about the price. Ten goats,he said, was a high price for an able-bodied warrior. He also called Bukawai's attention to the fact that he,Mbonga, was very poor, that his people were very poor,and that ten goats were at least eight too many,to say nothing of a new sleeping mat and the copper wire;but Bukawai was adamant. His medicine was very expensiveand he would have to give at least five goats to the godswho helped him make it. They were still arguing when Momayareturned with the fire.

Bukawai placed a little on the ground before him, took apinch of powder from a pouch at his side and sprinkledit on the embers. A cloud of smoke rose with a puff. Bukawai closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. Then he made a few passes in the air and pretendedto swoon. Mbonga and the others were much impressed. Rabba Kega grew nervous. He saw his reputation waning. There was some fire left in the vessel which Momayahad brought. He seized the vessel, dropped a handfulof dry leaves into it while no one was watching and thenuttered a frightful scream which drew the attention ofBukawai's audience to him. It also brought Bukawai quitemiraculously out of his swoon, but when the old witch-doctorsaw the reason for the disturbance he quickly relapsedinto unconsciousness before anyone discovered his FAUXPAS.

Rabba Kega, seeing that he had the attention of Mbonga,Ibeto, and Momaya, blew suddenly into the vessel,with the result that the leaves commenced to smolder,and smoke issued from the mouth of the receptacle. Rabba Kega was careful to hold it so that none might seethe dry leaves. Their eyes opened wide at this remarkabledemonstration of the village witch-doctor's powers. The latter, greatly elated, let himself out. He shouted,jumped up and down, and made frightful grimaces; then he puthis face close over the mouth of the vessel and appearedto be communing with the spirits within.

It was while he was thus engaged that Bukawai came out ofhis trance, his curiosity finally having gotten the betterof him. No one was paying him the slightest attention. He blinked his one eye angrily, then he, too, let outa loud roar, and when he was sure that Mbonga had turnedtoward him, he stiffened rigidly and made spasmodicmovements with his arms and legs.

"I see him!" he cried. "He is far away. The whitedevil-god did not get him. He is alone and in great danger;but," he added, "if the ten fat goats and the otherthings are paid to me quickly there is yet time to save him."

Rabba Kega had paused to listen. Mbonga looked toward him. The chief was in a quandary. He did not know whichmedicine was the better. "What does your magic tell you?"he asked of Rabba Kega.

"I, too, see him," screamed Rabba Kega; "but he is notwhere Bukawai says he is. He is dead at the bottomof the river."

At this Momaya commenced to howl loudly.

Tarzan had followed the spoor of the old man,the two hyenas, and the little black boy to the mouthof the cave in the rocky canon between the two hills. Here he paused a moment before the sapling barrier whichBukawai had set up, listening to the snarls and growlswhich came faintly from the far recesses of the cavern.

Presently, mingled with the beastly cries, there camefaintly to the keen ears of the ape-man, the agonizedmoan of a child. No longer did Tarzan hesitate. Hurling the door aside, he sprang into the dark opening. Narrow and black was the corridor; but long use of hiseyes in the Stygian blackness of the jungle nights hadgiven to the ape-man something of the nocturnal visionarypowers of the wild things with which he had consortedsince babyhood.

He moved rapidly and yet with caution, for the placewas dark, unfamiliar and winding. As he advanced, he heardmore and more loudly the savage snarls of the two hyenas,mingled with the scraping and scratching of their pawsupon wood. The moans of a child grew in volume,and Tarzan recognized in them the voice of the littleblack boy he once had sought to adopt as his balu.

There was no hysteria in the ape-man's advance. Too accustomed was he to the passing of life in thejungle to be greatly wrought even by the death of onewhom he knew; but the lust for battle spurred him on. He was only a wild beast at heart and his wild beast'sheart beat high in anticipation of conflict.

In the rocky chamber of the hill's center, little Tibocrouched low against the wall as far from the hunger-crazedbeasts as he could drag himself. He saw the lattice givingto the frantic clawing of the hyenas. He knew that in a fewminutes his little life would flicker out horribly beneaththe rending, yellow fangs of these loathsome creatures.

Beneath the buffetings of the powerful bodies,the lattice sagged inward, until, with a crash itgave way, letting the carnivora in upon the boy. Tibo cast one affrighted glance toward them, then closedhis eyes and buried his face in his arms, sobbing piteously.

For a moment the hyenas paused, caution and cowardice holdingthem from their prey. They stood thus glaring at the lad,then slowly, stealthily, crouching, they crept toward him. It was thus that Tarzan came upon them, bursting intothe chamber swiftly and silently; but not so silentlythat the keen-eared beasts did not note his coming. With angry growls they turned from Tibo upon the ape-man, as,with a smile upon his lips, he ran toward them. For an instant one of the animals stood its ground;but the ape-man did not deign even to draw his huntingknife against despised Dango. Rushing in upon the brute hegrasped it by the scruff of the neck, just as it attemptedto dodge past him, and hurled it across the cavern afterits fellow which already was slinking into the corridor,bent upon escape.

Then Tarzan picked Tibo from the floor, and when thechild felt human hands upon him instead of the pawsand fangs of the hyenas, he rolled his eyes upward insurprise and incredulity, and as they fell upon Tarzan,sobs of relief broke from the childish lips and hishands clutched at his deliverer as though the whitedevil-god was not the most feared of jungle creatures.

When Tarzan came to the cave mouth the hyenas were nowherein sight, and after permitting Tibo to quench his thirstin the spring which rose near by, he lifted the boy to hisshoulders and set off toward the jungle at a rapid trot,determined to still the annoying howlings of Momayaas quickly as possible, for he shrewdly had guessed thatthe absence of her balu was the cause of her lamentation.

"He is not dead at the bottom of the river," cried Bukawai. "What does this fellow know about making magic? Whois he, anyway, that he dare say Bukawai's magic is notgood magic? Bukawai sees Momaya's son. He is far awayand alone and in great danger. Hasten then with the tenfat goats, the--"

But he got no further. There was a sudden interruptionfrom above, from the branches of the very tree beneathwhich they squatted, and as the five blacks looked upthey almost swooned in fright as they saw the great,white devil-god looking down upon them; but before they couldflee they saw another face, that of the lost little Tibo,and his face was laughing and very happy.

And then Tarzan dropped fearlessly among them, the boystill upon his back, and deposited him before his mother. Momaya, Ibeto, Rabba Kega, and Mbonga were all crowdingaround the lad trying to question him at the same time. Suddenly Momaya turned ferociously to fall upon Bukawai,for the boy had told her all that he had suffered atthe hands of the cruel old man; but Bukawai was no longerthere--he had required no recourse to black art to assurehim that the vicinity of Momaya would be no healthfulplace for him after Tibo had told his story, and now hewas running through the jungle as fast as his old legswould carry him toward the distant lair where he knew noblack would dare pursue him.

Tarzan, too, had vanished, as he had a way of doing,to the mystification of the blacks. Then Momaya's eyeslighted upon Rabba Kega. The village witch-doctor sawsomething in those eyes of hers which boded no good to him,and backed away.

"So my Tibo is dead at the bottom of the river, is he?"the woman shrieked. "And he's far away and alone and ingreat danger, is he? Magic!" The scorn which Momaya crowdedinto that single word would have done credit to a Thespianof the first magnitude. "Magic, indeed!" she screamed. "Momaya will show you some magic of her own," and with thatshe seized upon a broken limb and struck Rabba Kega acrossthe head. With a howl of pain, the man turned and fled,Momaya pursuing him and beating him across the shoulders,through the gateway and up the length of the village street,to the intense amusement of the warriors, the women,and the children who were so fortunate as to witnessthe spectacle, for one and all feared Rabba Kega, and to fearis to hate.

Thus it was that to his host of passive enemies, Tarzan ofthe Apes added that day two active foes, both of whomremained awake long into the night planning means of revengeupon the white devil-god who had brought them into ridiculeand disrepute, but with their most malevolent schemingswas mingled a vein of real fear and awe that would not down.

Young Lord Greystoke did not know that they plannedagainst him, nor, knowing, would have cared. He sleptas well that night as he did on any other night,and though there was no roof above him, and no doorsto lock against intruders, he slept much better thanhis noble relative in England, who had eaten altogethertoo much lobster and drank too much wine at dinner that night.