After Werper had arranged the dummy in his bed, andsneaked out into the darkness of the village beneaththe rear wall of his tent, he had gone directly to thehut in which Jane Clayton was held captive.

Before the doorway squatted a black sentry. Werperapproached him boldly, spoke a few words in his ear,handed him a package of tobacco, and passed into thehut. The black grinned and winked as the Europeandisappeared within the darkness of the interior.

The Belgian, being one of Achmet Zek's principallieutenants, might naturally go where he wished withinor without the village, and so the sentry had notquestioned his right to enter the hut with the white,woman prisoner.

Within, Werper called in French and in a low whisper:"Lady Greystoke! It is I, M. Frecoult. Where are you?"But there was no response. Hastily the man felt aroundthe interior, groping blindly through the darkness withoutstretched hands. There was no one within!

Werper's astonishment surpassed words. He was on thepoint of stepping without to question the sentry, whenhis eyes, becoming accustomed to the dark, discovered ablotch of lesser blackness near the base of the rearwall of the hut. Examination revealed the fact that theblotch was an opening cut in the wall. It was largeenough to permit the passage of his body, and assuredas he was that Lady Greystoke had passed out throughthe aperture in an attempt to escape the village, helost no time in availing himself of the same avenue;but neither did he lose time in a fruitless search forJane Clayton.

His own life depended upon the chance of his eluding,or outdistancing Achmet Zek, when that worthy shouldhave discovered that he had escaped. His original planhad contemplated connivance in the escape of LadyGreystoke for two very good and sufficient reasons.The first was that by saving her he would win thegratitude of the English, and thus lessen the chance ofhis extradition should his identity and his crimeagainst his superior officer be charged against him.

The second reason was based upon the fact that only onedirection of escape was safely open to him. He couldnot travel to the west because of the Belgianpossessions which lay between him and the Atlantic.The south was closed to him by the feared presence ofthe savage ape-man he had robbed. To the north lay thefriends and allies of Achmet Zek. Only toward theeast, through British East Africa, lay reasonableassurance of freedom.

Accompanied by a titled Englishwoman whom he hadrescued from a frightful fate, and his identity vouchedfor by her as that of a Frenchman by the name ofFrecoult, he had looked forward, and not withoutreason, to the active assistance of the British fromthe moment that he came in contact with their firstoutpost.

But now that Lady Greystoke had disappeared, though hestill looked toward the east for hope, his chances werelessened, and another, subsidiary design completelydashed. From the moment that he had first laid eyesupon Jane Clayton he had nursed within his breast asecret passion for the beautiful American wife of theEnglish lord, and when Achmet Zek's discovery of thejewels had necessitated flight, the Belgian haddreamed, in his planning, of a future in which he mightconvince Lady Greystoke that her husband was dead,and by playing upon her gratitude win her for himself.

At that part of the village farthest from the gates,Werper discovered that two or three long poles, takenfrom a nearby pile which had been collected for theconstruction of huts, had been leaned against the topof the palisade, forming a precarious, though notimpossible avenue of escape.

Rightly, he inferred that thus had Lady Greystoke foundthe means to scale the wall, nor did he lose even amoment in following her lead. Once in the jungle hestruck out directly eastward.

A few miles south of him, Jane Clayton lay pantingamong the branches of a tree in which she had takenrefuge from a prowling and hungry lioness.

Her escape from the village had been much easier thanshe had anticipated. The knife which she had used tocut her way through the brush wall of the hut tofreedom she had found sticking in the wall of herprison, doubtless left there by accident when a formertenant had vacated the premises.

To cross the rear of the village, keeping always in thedensest shadows, had required but a few moments, andthe fortunate circumstance of the discovery of the hutpoles lying so near the palisade had solved for her theproblem of the passage of the high wall.

For an hour she had followed the old game trail towardthe south, until there fell upon her trained hearingthe stealthy padding of a stalking beast behind her.The nearest tree gave her instant sanctuary, for shewas too wise in the ways of the jungle to chance hersafety for a moment after discovering that she wasbeing hunted.

Werper, with better success, traveled slowly onwarduntil dawn, when, to his chagrin, he discovered amounted Arab upon his trail. It was one of AchmetZek's minions, many of whom were scattered in alldirections through the forest, searching for thefugitive Belgian.

Jane Clayton's escape had not yet been discovered whenAchmet Zek and his searchers set forth to overhaulWerper. The only man who had seen the Belgian after hisdeparture from his tent was the black sentry before thedoorway of Lady Greystoke's prison hut, and he had beensilenced by the discovery of the dead body of the manwho had relieved him, the sentry that Mugambi haddispatched.

The bribe taker naturally inferred that Werper hadslain his fellow and dared not admit that he hadpermitted him to enter the hut, fearing as he did,the anger of Achmet Zek. So, as chance directed that heshould be the one to discover the body of the sentrywhen the first alarm had been given following AchmetZek's discovery that Werper had outwitted him, thecrafty black had dragged the dead body to the interiorof a nearby tent, and himself resumed his stationbefore the doorway of the hut in which he stillbelieved the woman to be.

With the discovery of the Arab close behind him, theBelgian hid in the foliage of a leafy bush. Here thetrail ran straight for a considerable distance, anddown the shady forest aisle, beneath the overarchingbranches of the trees, rode the white-robed figure ofthe pursuer.

Nearer and nearer he came. Werper crouched closer tothe ground behind the leaves of his hiding place.Across the trail a vine moved. Werper's eyes instantlycentered upon the spot. There was no wind to stir thefoliage in the depths of the jungle. Again the vinemoved. In the mind of the Belgian only the presence ofa sinister and malevolent force could account for thephenomenon.

The man's eyes bored steadily into the screen of leavesupon the opposite side of the trail. Gradually a formtook shape beyond them--a tawny form, grim andterrible, with yellow-green eyes glaring fearsomelyacross the narrow trail straight into his.

Werper could have screamed in fright, but up the trailwas coming the messenger of another death, equally sureand no less terrible. He remained silent, almostparalyzed by fear. The Arab approached. Across thetrail from Werper the lion crouched for the spring,when suddenly his attention was attracted toward thehorseman.

The Belgian saw the massive head turn in the directionof the raider and his heart all but ceased its beatingas he awaited the result of this interruption. At awalk the horseman approached. Would the nervous animalhe rode take fright at the odor of the carnivore, and,bolting, leave Werper still to the mercies of the kingof beasts?

But he seemed unmindful of the near presence of thegreat cat. On he came, his neck arched, champing atthe bit between his teeth. The Belgian turned his eyesagain toward the lion. The beast's whole attention nowseemed riveted upon the horseman. They were abreastthe lion now, and still the brute did not spring.Could he be but waiting for them to pass beforereturning his attention to the original prey? Werpershuddered and half rose. At the same instant the lionsprang from his place of concealment, full upon themounted man. The horse, with a shrill neigh of terror,shrank sideways almost upon the Belgian, the liondragged the helpless Arab from his saddle, and thehorse leaped back into the trail and fled away towardthe west.

But he did not flee alone. As the frightened beast hadpressed in upon him, Werper had not been slow to notethe quickly emptied saddle and the opportunity itpresented. Scarcely had the lion dragged the Arab downfrom one side, than the Belgian, seizing the pommel ofthe saddle and the horse's mane, leaped upon thehorse's back from the other.

A half hour later a naked giant, swinging easilythrough the lower branches of the trees, paused, andwith raised head, and dilating nostrils sniffed themorning air. The smell of blood fell strong upon hissenses, and mingled with it was the scent of Numa, thelion. The giant cocked his head upon one side andlistened.

From a short distance up the trail came theunmistakable noises of the greedy feeding of a lion.The crunching of bones, the gulping of great pieces,the contented growling, all attested the nearness ofthe king at table.

Tarzan approached the spot, still keeping to thebranches of the trees. He made no effort to concealhis approach, and presently he had evidence that Numahad heard him, from the ominous, rumbling warning thatbroke from a thicket beside the trail.

Halting upon a low branch just above the lion Tarzanlooked down upon the grisly scene. Could thisunrecognizable thing be the man he had been trailing?The ape-man wondered. From time to time he haddescended to the trail and verified his judgment by theevidence of his scent that the Belgian had followedthis game trail toward the east.

Now he proceeded beyond the lion and his feast,again descended and examined the ground with his nose.There was no scent spoor here of the man he had beentrailing. Tarzan returned to the tree. With keen eyeshe searched the ground about the mutilated corpse for asign of the missing pouch of pretty pebbles; but naughtcould he see of it.

He scolded Numa and tried to drive the great beastaway; but only angry growls rewarded his efforts.He tore small branches from a nearby limb and hurled themat his ancient enemy. Numa looked up with bared fangs,grinning hideously, but he did not rise from his kill.

Then Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow, and drawing theslim shaft far back let drive with all the force of thetough wood that only he could bend. As the arrow sankdeeply into his side, Numa leaped to his feet with aroar of mingled rage and pain. He leaped futilely atthe grinning ape-man, tore at the protruding end of theshaft, and then, springing into the trail, paced backand forth beneath his tormentor. Again Tarzan loosed aswift bolt. This time the missile, aimed with care,lodged in the lion's spine. The great creature haltedin its tracks, and lurched awkwardly forward upon itsface, paralyzed.

Tarzan dropped to the trail, ran quickly to the beast'sside, and drove his spear deep into the fierce heart,then after recovering his arrows turned his attentionto the mutilated remains of the animal's prey in thenearby thicket.

The face was gone. The Arab garments aroused no doubtas to the man's identity, since he had trailed him intothe Arab camp and out again, where he might easily haveacquired the apparel. So sure was Tarzan that the bodywas that of he who had robbed him that he made noeffort to verify his deductions by scent among theconglomerate odors of the great carnivore and the freshblood of the victim.

He confined his attentions to a careful search for thepouch, but nowhere upon or about the corpse was anysign of the missing article or its contents. The ape-manwas disappointed--possibly not so much because ofthe loss of the colored pebbles as with Numa forrobbing him of the pleasures of revenge.

Wondering what could have become of his possessions,the ape-man turned slowly back along the trail in thedirection from which he had come. In his mind herevolved a plan to enter and search the Arab camp,after darkness had again fallen. Taking to the trees,he moved directly south in search of prey, that hemight satisfy his hunger before midday, and then lie upfor the afternoon in some spot far from the camp, wherehe might sleep without fear of discovery until it cametime to prosecute his design.

Scarcely had he quitted the trail when a tall, blackwarrior, moving at a dogged trot, passed toward theeast. It was Mugambi, searching for his mistress.He continued along the trail, halting to examine the bodyof the dead lion. An expression of puzzlement crossedhis features as he bent to search for the wounds whichhad caused the death of the jungle lord. Tarzan hadremoved his arrows, but to Mugambi the proof of deathwas as strong as though both the lighter missiles andthe spear still protruded from the carcass.

The black looked furtively about him. The body wasstill warm, and from this fact he reasoned that thekiller was close at hand, yet no sign of living manappeared. Mugambi shook his head, and continued alongthe trail, but with redoubled caution.

All day he traveled, stopping occasionally to callaloud the single word, "Lady," in the hope that at lastshe might hear and respond; but in the end his loyaldevotion brought him to disaster.

From the northeast, for several months, Abdul Mourak,in command of a detachment of Abyssinian soldiers, hadbeen assiduously searching for the Arab raider, AchmetZek, who, six months previously, had affronted themajesty of Abdul Mourak's emperor by conducting a slaveraid within the boundaries of Menelek's domain.

And now it happened that Abdul Mourak had halted for ashort rest at noon upon this very day and along thesame trail that Werper and Mugambi were followingtoward the east.

It was shortly after the soldiers had dismounted thatthe Belgian, unaware of their presence, rode his tiredmount almost into their midst, before he had discoveredthem. Instantly he was surrounded, and a volley ofquestions hurled at him, as he was pulled from hishorse and led toward the presence of the commander.

Falling back upon his European nationality, Werperassured Abdul Mourak that he was a Frenchman, huntingin Africa, and that he had been attacked by strangers,his safari killed or scattered, and himself escapingonly by a miracle.

From a chance remark of the Abyssinian, Werperdiscovered the purpose of the expedition, and when herealized that these men were the enemies of Achmet Zek,he took heart, and immediately blamed his predicamentupon the Arab.

Lest, however, he might again fall into the hands ofthe raider, he discouraged Abdul Mourak in the furtherprosecution of his pursuit, assuring the Abyssinianthat Achmet Zek commanded a large and dangerous force,and also that he was marching rapidly toward the south.

Convinced that it would take a long time to overhaulthe raider, and that the chances of engagement made theoutcome extremely questionable, Mourak, none toounwillingly, abandoned his plan and gave the necessaryorders for his command to pitch camp where they were,preparatory to taking up the return march towardAbyssinia the following morning.

It was late in the afternoon that the attention of thecamp was attracted toward the west by the sound of apowerful voice calling a single word, repeated severaltimes: "Lady! Lady! Lady!"

True to their instincts of precaution, a number ofAbyssinians, acting under orders from Abdul Mourak,advanced stealthily through the jungle toward theauthor of the call.

A half hour later they returned, dragging Mugambi amongthem. The first person the big black's eyes fell uponas he was hustled into the presence of the Abyssinianofficer, was M. Jules Frecoult, the Frenchman who hadbeen the guest of his master and whom he last had seenentering the village of Achmet Zek under circumstanceswhich pointed to his familiarity and friendship for theraiders.

Between the disasters that had befallen his master andhis master's house, and the Frenchman, Mugambi saw asinister relationship, which kept him from recalling toWerper's attention the identity which the latterevidently failed to recognize.

Pleading that he was but a harmless hunter from a tribefarther south, Mugambi begged to be allowed to go uponhis way; but Abdul Mourak, admiring the warrior'ssplendid physique, decided to take him back to AdisAbeba and present him to Menelek. A few moments laterMugambi and Werper were marched away under guard, andthe Belgian learned for the first time, that he too wasa prisoner rather than a guest. In vain he protestedagainst such treatment, until a strapping soldierstruck him across the mouth and threatened to shoot himif he did not desist.

Mugambi took the matter less to heart, for he had notthe slightest doubt but that during the course of thejourney he would find ample opportunity to elude thevigilance of his guards and make good his escape.With this idea always uppermost in his mind, he courtedthe good opinion of the Abyssinians, asked them manyquestions about their emperor and their country, andevinced a growing desire to reach their destination,that he might enjoy all the good things which theyassured him the city of Adis Abeba contained. Thus hedisarmed their suspicions, and each day found a slightrelaxation of their watchfulness over him.

By taking advantage of the fact that he and Werperalways were kept together, Mugambi sought to learn whatthe other knew of the whereabouts of Tarzan, or theauthorship of the raid upon the bungalow, as well asthe fate of Lady Greystoke; but as he was confined tothe accidents of conversation for this information, notdaring to acquaint Werper with his true identity, andas Werper was equally anxious to conceal from the worldhis part in the destruction of his host's home andhappiness, Mugambi learned nothing--at least in this way.

But there came a time when he learned a very surprisingthing, by accident.

The party had camped early in the afternoon of a sultryday, upon the banks of a clear and beautiful stream.The bottom of the river was gravelly, there was noindication of crocodiles, those menaces to promiscuousbathing in the rivers of certain portions of the darkcontinent, and so the Abyssinians took advantage of theopportunity to perform long-deferred, and much needed,ablutions.

As Werper, who, with Mugambi, had been given permissionto enter the water, removed his clothing, the blacknoted the care with which he unfastened something whichcircled his waist, and which he took off with hisshirt, keeping the latter always around and concealingthe object of his suspicious solicitude.

It was this very carefulness which attracted theblack's attention to the thing, arousing a naturalcuriosity in the warrior's mind, and so it chanced thatwhen the Belgian, in the nervousness of overcaution,fumbled the hidden article and dropped it, Mugambi sawit as it fell upon the ground, spilling a portion ofits contents on the sward.

Now Mugambi had been to London with his master.He was not the unsophisticated savage that his apparelproclaimed him. He had mingled with the cosmopolitanhordes of the greatest city in the world; he hadvisited museums and inspected shop windows; and,besides, he was a shrewd and intelligent man.

The instant that the jewels of Opar rolled,scintillating, before his astonished eyes, herecognized them for what they were; but he recognizedsomething else, too, that interested him far moredeeply than the value of the stones. A thousand timeshe had seen the leathern pouch which dangled at hismaster's side, when Tarzan of the Apes had, in a spiritof play and adventure, elected to return for a fewhours to the primitive manners and customs of hisboyhood, and surrounded by his naked warriors hunt thelion and the leopard, the buffalo and the elephantafter the manner he loved best.

Werper saw that Mugambi had seen the pouch and thestones. Hastily he gathered up the precious gems andreturned them to their container, while Mugambi,assuming an air of indifference, strolled down to theriver for his bath.

The following morning Abdul Mourak was enraged andchagrined to discover that this huge, black prisonerhad escaped during the night, while Werper wasterrified for the same reason, until his tremblingfingers discovered the pouch still in its place beneathhis shirt, and within it the hard outlines of itscontents.