After their first terror had subsided subsequent to theshock of the earthquake, Basuli and his warriorshastened back into the passageway in search of Tarzanand two of their own number who were also missing.

They found the way blocked by jammed and distortedrock. For two days they labored to tear a way throughto their imprisoned friends; but when, after Herculeanefforts, they had unearthed but a few yards of thechoked passage, and discovered the mangled remains ofone of their fellows they were forced to the conclusionthat Tarzan and the second Waziri also lay dead beneaththe rock mass farther in, beyond human aid, and nolonger susceptible of it.

Again and again as they labored they called aloud thenames of their master and their comrade; but noanswering call rewarded their listening ears. At lastthey gave up the search. Tearfully they cast a lastlook at the shattered tomb of their master, shoulderedthe heavy burden of gold that would at least furnishcomfort, if not happiness, to their bereaved andbeloved mistress, and made their mournful way backacross the desolate valley of Opar, and downwardthrough the forests beyond toward the distant bungalow.

And as they marched what sorry fate was already drawingdown upon that peaceful, happy home!

From the north came Achmet Zek, riding to the summonsof his lieutenant's letter. With him came his horde ofrenegade Arabs, outlawed marauders, these, and equallydegraded blacks, garnered from the more debased andignorant tribes of savage cannibals through whosecountries the raider passed to and fro with perfectimpunity.

Mugambi, the ebon Hercules, who had shared the dangersand vicissitudes of his beloved Bwana, from JungleIsland, almost to the headwaters of the Ugambi,was the first to note the bold approach of thesinister caravan.

He it was whom Tarzan had left in charge of thewarriors who remained to guard Lady Greystoke, norcould a braver or more loyal guardian have been foundin any clime or upon any soil. A giant in stature,a savage, fearless warrior, the huge black possessed alsosoul and judgment in proportion to his bulk and his ferocity.

Not once since his master had departed had he beenbeyond sight or sound of the bungalow, except when LadyGreystoke chose to canter across the broad plain, orrelieve the monotony of her loneliness by a briefhunting excursion. On such occasions Mugambi, mountedupon a wiry Arab, had ridden close at her horse'sheels.

The raiders were still a long way off when thewarrior's keen eyes discovered them. For a time hestood scrutinizing the advancing party in silence,then he turned and ran rapidly in the direction of thenative huts which lay a few hundred yards below the bungalow.

Here he called out to the lolling warriors. He issuedorders rapidly. In compliance with them the men seizedupon their weapons and their shields. Some ran to callin the workers from the fields and to warn the tendersof the flocks and herds. The majority followed Mugambiback toward the bungalow.

The dust of the raiders was still a long distance away.Mugambi could not know positively that it hid an enemy;but he had spent a lifetime of savage life in savageAfrica, and he had seen parties before come thusunheralded. Sometimes they had come in peace andsometimes they had come in war--one could never tell.It was well to be prepared. Mugambi did not like thehaste with which the strangers advanced.

The Greystoke bungalow was not well adapted fordefense. No palisade surrounded it, for, situated asit was, in the heart of loyal Waziri, its master hadanticipated no possibility of an attack in force by anyenemy. Heavy, wooden shutters there were to close thewindow apertures against hostile arrows, and theseMugambi was engaged in lowering when Lady Greystokeappeared upon the veranda.

"Why, Mugambi!" she exclaimed. "What has happened?Why are you lowering the shutters?"

Mugambi pointed out across the plain to where a white-robedforce of mounted men was now distinctly visible.

"Arabs," he explained. "They come for no good purposein the absence of the Great Bwana."

Beyond the neat lawn and the flowering shrubs, JaneClayton saw the glistening bodies of her Waziri.The sun glanced from the tips of their metal-shod spears,picked out the gorgeous colors in the feathers of theirwar bonnets, and reflected the high-lights from theglossy skins of their broad shoulders and high cheek bones.

Jane Clayton surveyed them with unmixed feelings ofpride and affection. What harm could befall her withsuch as these to protect her?

The raiders had halted now, a hundred yards out uponthe plain. Mugambi had hastened down to join hiswarriors. He advanced a few yards before them andraising his voice hailed the strangers. Achmet Zek satstraight in his saddle before his henchmen.

"Arab!" cried Mugambi. "What do you here?"

"We come in peace," Achmet Zek called back.

"Then turn and go in peace," replied Mugambi."We do not want you here. There can be no peace betweenArab and Waziri."

Mugambi, although not born in Waziri, had been adoptedinto the tribe, which now contained no member morejealous of its traditions and its prowess than he.

Achmet Zek drew to one side of his horde, speaking tohis men in a low voice. A moment later, withoutwarning, a ragged volley was poured into the ranks ofthe Waziri. A couple of warriors fell, the others werefor charging the attackers; but Mugambi was a cautiousas well as a brave leader. He knew the futility ofcharging mounted men armed with muskets. He withdrewhis force behind the shrubbery of the garden. Some hedispatched to various other parts of the groundssurrounding the bungalow. Half a dozen he sent to thebungalow itself with instructions to keep theirmistress within doors, and to protect her with their lives.

Adopting the tactics of the desert fighters from whichhe had sprung, Achmet Zek led his followers at a gallopin a long, thin line, describing a great circle whichdrew closer and closer in toward the defenders.

At that part of the circle closest to the Waziri,a constant fusillade of shots was poured into the bushesbehind which the black warriors had concealedthemselves. The latter, on their part, loosed theirslim shafts at the nearest of the enemy.

The Waziri, justly famed for their archery, found nocause to blush for their performance that day.Time and again some swarthy horseman threw hands abovehis head and toppled from his saddle, pierced by adeadly arrow; but the contest was uneven. The Arabsoutnumbered the Waziri; their bullets penetrated theshrubbery and found marks that the Arab riflemen hadnot even seen; and then Achmet Zek circled inward ahalf mile above the bungalow, tore down a section ofthe fence, and led his marauders within the grounds.

Across the fields they charged at a mad run. Not againdid they pause to lower fences, instead, they drovetheir wild mounts straight for them, clearing theobstacles as lightly as winged gulls.

Mugambi saw them coming, and, calling those of hiswarriors who remained, ran for the bungalow and thelast stand. Upon the veranda Lady Greystoke stood,rifle in hand. More than a single raider had accountedto her steady nerves and cool aim for his outlawry;more than a single pony raced, riderless, in the wakeof the charging horde.

Mugambi pushed his mistress back into the greatersecurity of the interior, and with his depleted forceprepared to make a last stand against the foe.

On came the Arabs, shouting and waving their long gunsabove their heads. Past the veranda they raced,pouring a deadly fire into the kneeling Waziri whodischarged their volley of arrows from behind theirlong, oval shields--shields well adapted, perhaps,to stop a hostile arrow, or deflect a spear; but futile,quite, before the leaden missiles of the riflemen.

From beneath the half-raised shutters of the bungalowother bowmen did effective service in greater security,and after the first assault, Mugambi withdrew hisentire force within the building.

Again and again the Arabs charged, at last forming astationary circle about the little fortress, andoutside the effective range of the defenders' arrows.From their new position they fired at will at thewindows. One by one the Waziri fell. Fewer and fewerwere the arrows that replied to the guns of theraiders, and at last Achmet Zek felt safe in orderingan assault.

Firing as they ran, the bloodthirsty horde raced forthe veranda. A dozen of them fell to the arrows of thedefenders; but the majority reached the door.Heavy gun butts fell upon it. The crash of splinteredwood mingled with the report of a rifle as Jane Claytonfired through the panels upon the relentless foe.

Upon both sides of the door men fell; but at last thefrail barrier gave to the vicious assaults of themaddened attackers; it crumpled inward and a dozenswarthy murderers leaped into the living-room.At the far end stood Jane Clayton surrounded by the remnantof her devoted guardians. The floor was covered by thebodies of those who already had given up their lives inher defense. In the forefront of her protectors stoodthe giant Mugambi. The Arabs raised their rifles topour in the last volley that would effectually end allresistance; but Achmet Zek roared out a warning orderthat stayed their trigger fingers.

"Fire not upon the woman!" he cried. "Who harms her,dies. Take the woman alive!"

The Arabs rushed across the room; the Waziri met themwith their heavy spears. Swords flashed, long-barreledpistols roared out their sullen death dooms. Mugambilaunched his spear at the nearest of the enemy with aforce that drove the heavy shaft completely through theArab's body, then he seized a pistol from another, andgrasping it by the barrel brained all who forced theirway too near his mistress.

Emulating his example the few warriors who remained tohim fought like demons; but one by one they fell, untilonly Mugambi remained to defend the life and honor ofthe ape-man's mate.

From across the room Achmet Zek watched the unequalstruggle and urged on his minions. In his hands was ajeweled musket. Slowly he raised it to his shoulder,waiting until another move should place Mugambi at hismercy without endangering the lives of the woman or anyof his own followers.

At last the moment came, and Achmet Zek pulled thetrigger. Without a sound the brave Mugambi sank to thefloor at the feet of Jane Clayton.

An instant later she was surrounded and disarmed.Without a word they dragged her from the bungalow.A giant Negro lifted her to the pommel of his saddle,and while the raiders searched the bungalow and outhousesfor plunder he rode with her beyond the gates andwaited the coming of his master.

Jane Clayton saw the raiders lead the horses from thecorral, and drive the herds in from the fields.She saw her home plundered of all that representedintrinsic worth in the eyes of the Arabs, and then she sawthe torch applied, and the flames lick up what remained.

And at last, when the raiders assembled after gluttingtheir fury and their avarice, and rode away with hertoward the north, she saw the smoke and the flamesrising far into the heavens until the winding of the trailinto the thick forests hid the sad view from her eyes.

As the flames ate their way into the living-room,reaching out forked tongues to lick up the bodies ofthe dead, one of that gruesome company whose bloodywelterings had long since been stilled, moved again.It was a huge black who rolled over upon his side andopened blood-shot, suffering eyes. Mugambi, whom theArabs had left for dead, still lived. The hot flameswere almost upon him as he raised himself painfullyupon his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward thedoorway.

Again and again he sank weakly to the floor; but eachtime he rose again and continued his pitiful way towardsafety. After what seemed to him an interminable time,during which the flames had become a veritable fieryfurnace at the far side of the room, the great blackmanaged to reach the veranda, roll down the steps,and crawl off into the cool safety of some nearbyshrubbery.

All night he lay there, alternately unconscious andpainfully sentient; and in the latter state watchingwith savage hatred the lurid flames which still rosefrom burning crib and hay cock. A prowling lion roaredclose at hand; but the giant black was unafraid. Therewas place for but a single thought in his savage mind--revenge! revenge! revenge!