CHAPTER XXI. THE CAST AWAYS. Clayton dreamed that he was drinking his fill of water, pure delightful drafts of fresh water. With a start he gained consciousness to find himself wet through by torrents of rain that were falling upon his body and his upturned face. A heavy tropical shower was beating down upon him. He opened his mouth and drank. Presently he was so revived and strengthened that he was unable to raise himself upon his hands. Across his legs lay Monsieur Thuron. A few feet aft Jane Porter was huddled in a pitiful little heap in the bottom of the boat. She was quite still. Clayton knew that she was dead. After infinite labour he released himself from Thuron's pinioning body and with renewed strength crawled toward the girl. He raised her head from the rough boards of the boat's bottom. There might be life in that poor starved frame even yet. He could not quite abandon all hope, and so he seized a water-soaked rag and squeezed the precious drops between the swollen lips of the hideous thing that had but a few short days before glowed with the resplendent life of happy youth and glorious beauty. For some time there was no sign of returning animation, but at last his efforts were rewarded with a slight tremor of the half-closed lids. He chafed the thin hands and forced a few more drops of water into the part's throat. The girl opened her eyes, looking up at him for a long time before she could recall her surroundings. "'Water,' she whispered. "'Are we saved?' "'It is raining,' he explained. "'We may at least drink. Already it has revived us both.' "'Mr. Thuron,' she asked.  Is he dead?' "'I do not know,' replied Clayton. If he lives and this rain revives him, but he stopped there remembering too late that he must not add further to the horrors which the girl already had endured, but she guessed what he would have said. "'Where is he?' she asked. Clayton nodded his head toward the prostrate form of the Russian. For a time neither spoke. "'I will see if I can revive him,' Clayton said at length. "'No,' she whispered, extending a detaining hand toward him. "'Do not do that.  If he is dying, let him die. Do not leave me alone in this boat with that beast.' Clayton hesitated. His honour demanded that he attempt to revive Thuron, and there was the possibility too that the Russian was beyond human aid. It was not dishonourable to hope so. As he sat fighting out his battle, he presently raised his eyes from the body of the man, and as they passed above the gun-whale of the boat, he staggered weakly to his feet with a little cry of joy. "'Land, Jane!' he almost shouted through his cracked lips. "'Thank God, land!' the girl looked too, and there, not a hundred yards away, she saw a yellow breach, and beyond the luxurious foliage of a tropical jungle. "'Now you may revive him,' said Jane Porter, for she too had been haunted with the pangs of conscience which had resulted from her decision to prevent Clayton from offering succour to their companion. It required the better part of half an hour before the Russian evened sufficient symptoms of returning consciousness to open his eyes, and it was some time later before they could bring him to a realisation of their good fortune. By this time the boat was scraping gently upon the sandy bottom. Between the refreshing water that he had drunk and the stimulus of renewed hope, Clayton found strength to stagger through the shallow water to the shore with a line made fast to the boat's bow. This he fastened to a small tree which grew at the top of a low bank, for the tide was at flood, and he feared that the boat might carry them all out to sea again with the ebb, since it was quite likely that it would be beyond his strength to get Jane Porter to the shore for several hours. Next he managed to stagger and crawl toward the nearby jungle, where he had seen evidences of profusion of tropical fruit. His former experience in the jungle of Tarzan of the Apes had taught him which of the many growing things were edible, and after nearly an hour of absence he returned to the beach with a little armful of food. The rain had ceased and the hot sun was beating down so mercilessly upon her that Jane Porter insisted on making an immediate attempt to gain the land. Still further invigorated by the food Clayton had brought, the three were able to reach the half shade of the small tree to which their boat was moored. Here, thoroughly exhausted, they drew themselves down to rest, sleeping until dark. For a month they lived upon the beach in comparative safety. As their strength returned the two men constructed a rude shelter in the branches of a tree, high enough from the ground to ensure safety from the larger beasts of prey. By day they gathered fruits and trapped small rodents. At night they lay cowering within their frail shelter, while savage denizens of the jungle made hideous the hours of darkness. They slept upon litters of jungle grasses, and for covering at night Jane Porter had only an old ulster that belonged to Clayton, the same garment that he had worn upon that memorable trip to the Wisconsin woods. Clayton had erected a frail partition of boughs to divide their arboreal shelter into two rooms, one for the girl and the other for Mr. Thuron and himself. From the first the Russian had exhibited every trait of his true character, selfishness, boorishness, arrogance, cowardice, and lust. Twice had he and Clayton come to blows because of Thuron's attitude toward the girl. Clayton dared not leave her alone with him for an instant. The existence of the Englishman and his fiancée was one continual nightmare of horror, and yet they lived on in hope of ultimate rescue. Jane Porter's thoughts often reverted to her other experience on this savage shore. Ah, if the invincible forest god of that dead past were but with them now, no longer would there be ought to fear from prowling beasts or from the bestial Russian. She could not well refrain from comparing the scant protection afforded her by Clayton with what she might have expected had Tarzan of the ape's been for a single instant confronted by the sinister and menacing attitude of Mr. Thuron. Once when Clayton had gone to the little stream for water and Thuron had spoken coarsely to her, she voiced her thoughts. It is well for you, Mr. Thuron, she said, that the poor Mr. Tarzan who was lost from the ship that brought you and Miss Strong to Cape Town is not here now. You knew the pig, asked Thuron with a sneer.  There was something in her tone of voice that led the Russian to attribute to her a deeper feeling for his enemy than friendship, and he grasped at the suggestion to be further revenged upon the man whom he supposed dead by besmirching his memory to the girl. He was worse than a pig, he cried. He was a poor Thuron and a coward. To save himself from the righteous wrath of the husband of a woman he had wronged, he perjured his soul in an attempt to place the blame entirely upon her. Not succeeding in this, he ran away from France to escape meeting the husband upon the field of honour. That is why he was on board the ship that bore Miss Strong and myself to Cape Town. I know whereof I speak, for the woman in the case is my sister. Something more I know that I have never told another. Your brave Monsieur Tarzin leaped overboard in an agony of fear because I recognized him and insisted that he make reparation to me the following morning. We could have fought with knives in my state room. Jane Porter laughed. You do not for a moment imagine that one who has known both Monsieur Tarzin and you could ever believe such an impossible tale. Then why did he travel under an assumed name, asked Monsieur Thuron? I do not believe you, she cried, but nevertheless the seed of suspicion was sown, for she knew that Hazel Strong had known her forest god only as John Caldwell of London. A scant five miles north of their rude shelter, all unknown to them, and practically as remote as though separated by thousands of miles of impenetrable jungle lay the snug little cabin of Tarzin of the apes. While farther up the coast a few miles beyond the cabin, in crude but well-built shelters lived a little party of eighteen souls, the occupants of the three boats from the Lady Alice from which Clayton's boat had become separated. Over a smooth sea they had rode to the mainland in less than three days. None of the horrors of shipwreck had been theirs, and though depressed by sorrow and suffering from the shock of the catastrophe and the unaccustomed hardships of their new existence there was none much the worse for their experience. All were buoyed by the hope that the fourth boat had been picked up and that a thorough search of the coast would be quickly made. As all the firearms and ammunition on the yacht had been placed in Lord Tennington's boat the party was well equipped for defense and for hunting the larger game for food. Professor Archimedes Q. Porter was there only immediate anxiety, fully assured in his own mind that his daughter had been picked up by a passing steamer he gave over the last bestiege of apprehension concerning her welfare and devoted his giant intellect solely to the consideration of those momentous and abstruse scientific problems which he considered the only proper food for thought in one of his erudition. His mind appeared blank to the influence of all extraneous matters. Never, said the exhausted Mr. Samuel T. Philander to Lord Tennington, never has Professor Porter been more difficult, or I might say impossible. Why, only this morning after I had been forced to relinquish my surveillance for a brief half-hour he was entirely missing upon my return, and bless me, sir, where do you imagine I discovered him? A half-mile out in the ocean, sir, in one of the life boats, rowing away for dear life, I do not know how he attained even that magnificent distance from shore, for he had but a single ore with which he was blissfully rowing about in circles. When one of the sailors had taken me out to him in another boat the Professor became quite indignant at my suggestion that we return at once to land. Why, Mr. Philander, he said, I am surprised at you, sir, a man of letters yourself should have the temerity so to interrupt the progress of science. I had about deduced from certain astronomical phenomena I have had under minute observation during the past several tropic nights an entirely new nebular hypothesis which will unquestionably startle the scientific world. I wish to consult a very excellent monograph on Laplace's hypothesis which I understand is in a certain private collection in New York City. Your interference, Mr. Philander, will result in an irreparable delay, for I was just rowing over to obtain this pamphlet. And it was with the greatest difficulty that I persuaded him to return to shore without resorting to force, concluded Mr. Philander. Miss Strong and her mother were very brave under the strain of almost constant apprehension of the attacks of savage beasts, nor were they quite able to accept so readily as the others the theory that Jane, Clayton, and Mr. Thuron had been picked up safely. Jane Porter's Esmeralda was in a constant state of tears at the cruel fate which had separated her from her holy honey. Lord Tennington's great hearted good nature never deserted him for a moment. He was still the jovial host, seeking always for the comfort and pleasure of his gas. With the men of his yacht he remained the just but firm commander. There was never any more question in the jungle than there had been on board the Lady Alice as to who was the final authority in all questions of importance and in all emergencies requiring cool and intelligent leadership. Could this well organized and comparatively secure party of castaways have seen the ragged, fear-haunted trio a few miles south of them they would scarcely have recognized in them the formerly immaculate members of the little company that had laughed and played upon the Lady Alice. Clayton and Mr. Thuron were almost naked, so Torn had their clothes bend by the thorn bushes and tangled vegetation of the matted jungle through which they had been compelled to force their way in search of their ever more difficult food supply. Jane Porter had, of course, not been subjected to these strenuous expeditions, but her apparel was nevertheless in a sad state of disrepair. Clayton, for lack of any better occupation, had carefully saved the skin of every animal they had killed. By stretching them upon the stems of trees and diligently scraping them he had managed to save them in a fair condition, and now that his clothes were threatening to cover his nakedness no longer he commenced to fashion a rude garment of them using a sharp thorn for a needle and bits of tough grass and animal tendons in lieu of thread. The result, when completed, was a sleeveless garment which fell nearly to his knees. As it was made up of numerous small pelts of different species of rodents it presented a rather strange and wonderful appearance which, together with the vile stench which permeated it, rendered it anything other than a desirable addition to a wardrobe. But the time came when for the sake of decency he was compelled to don it, and even the misery of their condition could not prevent Jane Porter from laughing heartily at sight of him. Later Thuron also found it necessary to construct a similar primitive garment so that with their bare legs and heavily bearded faces they looked not unlike reincarnations of two prehistoric progenitors of the human race. Thuron acted like one. Nearly two months of this existence had passed when the first great calamity befell them. It was prefaced by an adventure which came near terminating abruptly the sufferings of two of them, terminating them in the grim and horrible manner of the jungle forever. Thuron, down with an attack of jungle fever, lay in the shelter among the branches of their tree refuge. Clayton had been into the jungle a few hundred yards in search of food. As he returned Jane Porter walked to meet him. Behind the man, cunning and crafty, crept an old and mangy lion. For three days his ancient thews and sinews had proved insufficient for the task of providing his cavernous belly with meat. For months he had eaten less and less frequently, and farther and farther had he roamed from his accustomed haunts in search of easier prey. At last he had found nature's weakest and most defenseless creature. In a moment more, Numa would dine. Clayton, all unconscious of the lurking death behind him, strode out into the open toward Jane. He had reached her side, a hundred feet from the tangled edge of jungle, when past his shoulder the girl saw the tawny head and the wicked yellow eyes as the grasses parted, and the huge beast nose to ground, stepped softly into view. So frozen with horror was she that she could at her no sound. But the fixed and terrified gaze of her fear-wideened eyes spoke as plainly to Clayton as words. A quick glance behind him revealed the hopelessness of their situation. The lion was scarce thirty paces from them, and they were equally as far from the shelter. The man was armed with a stout stick, as efficacious against a hungry lion, he realized, as a toy-pop gun charged with a tethered cork. Numa, ravenous with hunger, had long since learned the futility of roaring and moaning as he searched for prey, but now that it was as surely his as though already he had felt the soft flesh beneath his still mighty paw, he opened his huge jaws and gave vent to his long-pent rage in a series of deafening roars that made the air tremble. Run, Jane! cried Clayton. Quick! Run for the shelter! But her paralyzed muscles refused to respond, and she stood mute and rigid, staring with ghastly countenance at the living death creeping toward them. Thuron, at the sound of that awful roar, had come to the opening of the shelter, and as he saw the tableau below him, he hopped up and down, shrieking to them in Russian. Run! Run! he cried. Run, or I shall be left all alone in this horrible place! And then he broke down and commenced a weep. For a moment this new voice distracted the attention of the lion, who halted to cast an inquiring glance in the direction of the tree. Clayton could endure the strain no longer.  The girl looked at him in horror. Why did he not do something?  Would Tarzan of the Apes have done thus? Would he not at least have gone down to his death fighting heroically to the last? Now the lion was crouching for the spring that would end their young lives beneath cruel rending yellow fangs.  Thorin, weak from fever, fainted. Seconds dragged into minutes. Long minutes into an eternity. And yet the beast did not spring. Clayton was almost unconscious from the prolonged agony of fright. His knees trembled a moment more and he would collapse. Jane Porter could endure it no longer. She opened her eyes. Could she be dreaming? William! she whispered. Look! Clayton mastered himself sufficiently to raise his head and turned toward the lion. An ejaculation of surprise burst from his lips. At their very feet the beast lay crumpled in death. A heavy war spirit protruded from the tawny hide. It had entered the great back above the right shoulder and passing entirely through the body had pierced the savage heart. Jane Porter had risen to her feet. As Clayton turned back to her she staggered in weakness. He put out his arms to save her from falling and then drew her close to him.  Gently the girl pushed him away. Please do not do that, William, she said. I have lived a thousand years in the past brief moments. I have learned in the face of death how to live. I do not wish to hurt you more than is necessary, but I can no longer bear to live out the impossible position I have attempted because of a false sense of loyalty to an impulsive promise I made you. The last few seconds of my life have taught me that it would be hideous to attempt further to deceive myself and you, or to entertain for an instant longer the possibility of ever becoming your wife should we regain civilization. Why, Jane, he cried, what do you mean? What has our providential rescue to do with altering your feelings toward me? You are but unstrong. Tomorrow you will be yourself again. I am more nearly myself this minute than I have been for over a year, she replied. The thing that has just happened has again forced to my memory the fact that the bravest man that ever lived honored me with his love. Until it was too late I did not realize that I returned it, and so I sent him away. He is dead now, and I shall never marry. I certainly could not wed another less brave than he, without harboring constantly a feeling of contempt for the relative cowardice of my husband. Do you understand me? Yes, he answered with bowed head, his face mantling with the flush of shame, and it was the next day that the great calamity befell. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of The Return of Tarzan This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs Chapter 22 The Treasure Vaults of Opar It was quite dark before law the high priestess returned to the chamber of the dead with food and drink for Tarzan. She bore no light, feeling with her hands along the crumbling walls until she gained the chamber. Through the stone grating above a tropic moon served dimly to illuminate the interior. Tarzan, crouching in the shadows at the far side of the room, as the first sound of approaching footsteps reached him, came forth to meet the girl as he recognized that it was she. They are furious, were her first words. Never before has a human sacrifice escaped the altar. Already fifty have gone forth to track you down. They have searched the temple. All save this single room. Why do they fare to come here? he asked. It is the chamber of the dead. Here the dead return to worship. See this ancient altar? It is here that the dead sacrifice the living, if they find a victim here. That is the reason our people shone this chamber. Were one to enter he knows that the waiting dead would seize him for their sacrifice. But you, he asked, I am high priestess. I alone am safe from the dead. It is I who at rare intervals bring them a human sacrifice from the world above. I alone may enter here in safety. Why have they not seized me? he asked, humoring her grotesque belief. She looked at him quizzically for a moment. Then she replied, It is the duty of a high priestess to instruct, to interpret according to the creed that others wiser than herself have laid down. But there is nothing in the creed which says that she must believe. The more one knows of one's religion the less one believes. No one living knows more of mine than I. Then your only fear in aiding me to escape is that your fellow mortals may discover your duplicity. That is all. The dead are dead. They cannot harm or help. We must therefore depend entirely upon ourselves, and the sooner we act the better it will be. I had difficulty in eluding their vigilance but now, in bringing you this morsel of food, to attempt to repeat the thing daily would be the height of folly. Come, let us see how far we may go toward liberty before I must return. She led him back to the chamber beneath the altar-room. Here she turned into one of the several corridors leading from it. In the darkness Tarzan could not see which one. For ten minutes they groped slowly along a winding passage, until at length they came to a closed door. Here he heard her fumbling with a key, and presently came the sound of a metal bolt grating against metal. The door swung in on scraping hinges, and they entered. You will be safe here until tomorrow night, she said. Then she went out and closing the door locked it behind her. Where Tarzan stood it was dark as arabus. Not even his trained eyes could penetrate the utter blackness. Cautiously he moved forward until his outstretched hand touched a wall. Then very slowly he traveled around the four walls of the chamber. Apparently it was about twenty feet square. The floor was of concrete, the walls of the dry masonry that marked the method of construction above ground. Small pieces of granite of various sizes were ingeniously laid together without mortar to construct these ancient foundations. The first time around the walls Tarzan thought he detected a strange phenomenon for a room with no windows and but a single door. Again he crept carefully around close to the wall. No, he could not be mistaken. He paused before the center of the wall opposite the door. For a moment he stood quite motionless. Then he moved a few feet to one side. Again he returned only to move a few feet to the other side. Once more he made the entire circuit of the room, feeling carefully every foot of the walls. Finally he stopped again before the particular section that had aroused his curiosity. There was no doubt of it. A distinct draft of fresh air was blowing into the chamber through the intersection of the masonry at that particular point and nowhere else. Tarzan tested several pieces of the granite which made up the wall at this spot and finally was rewarded by finding one which lifted out readily. It was about ten inches wide, with a face some three by six inches showing within the chamber. One by one the eight man lifted out similarly shaped stones. The wall at this point was constructed entirely, it seemed, of these almost perfect slabs. In a short time he had removed some dozen when he reached in to test the next layer of masonry. To his surprise he felt nothing behind the masonry he had removed as far as his long arm could reach. It was a matter of but a few minutes to remove enough of the wall to permit his body to pass through the aperture. Directly ahead of him he thought he discerned a faint glow, scarcely more than a less impenetrable darkness. Cautiously he moved forward on hands and knees until at about fifteen feet, or the average thickness of the foundation walls, the floor ended abruptly in a sudden drop. As far out as he could reach he felt nothing, nor could he find the bottom of the black abyss that yawned before him. Though clinging to the edge of the floor he lured his body into the darkness to its full length. Finally it occurred to him to look up, and there above him he saw through a round opening a tiny circular patch of starry sky. Feeling up along the sides of the shaft as far as he could reach the eight man discovered that so much of the wall as he could feel converged toward the center of the shaft as it rose, this fact precluded possibility of escape in that direction. As he sat speculating on the nature and uses of this strange passage and its terminal shaft the moon topped the opening above, letting a flood of soft, silvery light into the shadowy place. Instantly the nature of the shaft became apparent to Tarzan, for far below him he saw the shimmering surface of water. He had come upon an ancient well. But what was the purpose of the connection between the well and the dungeon in which he had been hidden? As the moon crossed the opening of the shaft its light flooded the whole interior, and then Tarzan saw directly across from him another opening in the opposite wall. He wondered if this might not be the mouth of a passage leading to possible escape. It would be worth investigating at least, and this he determined to do. Quickly returning to the wall he had demolished to explore what lay beyond it he carried the stones into the passageway and replaced them from that side. The deep deposit of dust which he had noticed upon the blocks as he had first removed them from the wall had convinced him that even if the present occupants of the ancient pile had knowledge of this hidden passage they had made no use of it for perhaps generations. The wall replaced Tarzan turned to the shaft which was some fifteen feet wide at this point. To leap across the intervening space was a small matter to the ape-man, and a moment later he was proceeding along a narrow tunnel moving cautiously for fear of being precipitated into another shaft such as he had just crossed. He had advanced some hundred feet when he came to a flight of steps leading downward into Stygian gloom. Some twenty feet below the level floor of the tunnel recommenced, and shortly afterward his progress was stopped by a heavy wooden door which was secured by massive wooden bars upon the side of Tarzan's approach. This fact suggested to the ape-man that he might surely be, in a passageway leading to the outer world, for the bolts barring progress from the opposite side tended to substantiate this hypothesis unless it were merely a prison to which it led. Along the tops of the bars were deep layers of dust, a further indication that the passage had lain long and used. As he pushed the massive obstacle aside, its great hinges shrieked out in weird protest against this unaccustomed disturbance. For a moment Tarzan paused to listen for any responsive note which might indicate that the unusual night noise had alarmed the inmates of the temple, but as he heard nothing he advanced beyond the doorway. Carefully feeling about he found himself within a large chamber. Along the walls of which, and down the length of the floor, were piled many tiers of metal ingots of an odd, though uniform shape. To his groping hands they felt not unlike double-headed bootjacks. The ingots were quite heavy, and but for the enormous number of them he would have been positive that they were gold, but the thought of the fabulous welt these thousands of pounds of metal would have represented were they in reality gold, almost convinced him that they must be of some baser metal. At the far end of the chamber he discovered another barred door, and again the bars upon the inside renewed the hope that he was traversing an ancient and forgotten passageway to liberty. Beyond the door the passage ran straight as a war-spear, and it soon became evident to the ape-man that it had already led him beyond the outer walls of the temple, if he but knew the direction it was leading him, if toward the west then he must also be beyond the city's outer walls, with increasing hopes he forged ahead as rapidly as he dared, until at the end of half an hour he came to another flight of steps leading upward. At the bottom this flight was of concrete, but as he ascended his naked feet fell a sudden change in the substance they were treading. The steps of concrete had given place to steps of granite, feeling with his hands the ape-man discovered that these latter were evidently hewed from rock, for there was no crack to indicate a joint. For a hundred feet the steps wound spirally up, until at a sudden turning Tarzan came into a narrow cleft between two rocky walls. Above him shone the starry sky, and before him a steep incline replaced the steps that had terminated at its foot. Up this pathway Tarzan hastened and at its upper end came out upon the rough top of a huge granite boulder. A mile away lay the ruined city of Opar, its domes and turrets bathed in the soft light of the equatorial moon. Tarzan dropped his eyes to the ingot he had brought away with him. For a moment he examined it by the moon's bright rays. Then he raised his head to look out upon the ancient piles of crumbling grandeur in the distance. Opar, he mused, Opar, the enchanted city of a dead and forgotten past, the city of the beauties and the beasts, city of horrors and death, but city of fabulous riches. The ingot was of virgin gold. The boulder on which Tarzan found himself lay well out in the plain between the city and the distant cliffs he and his black warriors had scaled the morning previous. To descend its rough and precipitous face was a task of infinite labor and considerable peril even to the ape-man, but at last he felt the soft soil of the valley beneath his feet and without a backward glance at Opar he turned his face toward the guardian cliffs and at a rapid trot set off across the valley. The sun was just rising as he gained the summit of the flat mountain at the valley's western boundary. Far beneath him he saw smoke rising above the treetops of the forest at the base of the foothills. Man, he murmured, and there were fifty who went forth to track me down. Can it be they? Swiftly he descended the face of the cliff and dropping into a narrow ravine which led down to the far forest he hastened onward in the direction of the smoke, striking the forest edge about a quarter of a mile from the point at which the slender column arose into the still air he took to the trees. Cautiously he approached, until there suddenly burst upon his view a rude boma in the center of which squatted about their tiny fires sat his fifty-black waziri. He called to them in their own tongue, Arise, my children, and greet thy king! With exclamations of surprise and fear the warriors leaped to their feet scarcely knowing whether to flee or not, then Tarzan dropped lightly from an overhanging branch into their midst, when they realized that it was indeed their chief in the flesh and no materialized spirit they went mad with joy. We were cowards, o waziri, cried Bazuli. We ran away and left you to your fate, but when our panic was over we swore to return and save you, or at least take revenge upon your murderers. We were but now preparing to scale the heights once more and cross the desolate valley to the terrible city. Have you seen fifty frightful men pass down from the cliffs into this forest, my children? asked Tarzan. Yes, waziri, replied Bazuli. They passed us late yesterday as we were about to turn back after you. They had no woodcraft. We heard them coming for a mile before we saw them, and as we had other business in hand we withdrew into the forest and let them pass. They were waddling rapidly along upon short legs, and now and then one would go upon all fours like Bolgani the gorilla. They were indeed fifty frightful men, waziri. When Tarzan had related his adventures and told them of the yellow metal he had found, not one demured when he outlined a plan to return by night and bring away what they could carry of the vast treasure, and so it was that as dusk fell across the desolate valley of Opar, fifty ebb and warriors trailed at a smart trot over the dry and dusty ground toward the giant boulder that loomed before the city. If it had seemed a difficult task to descend the face of the boulder, Tarzan soon found that it would be next to impossible to get his fifty warriors to the summit. Finally the feet was accomplished by dint of herchillian efforts upon the part of the eight-man. Ten spears were fastened end to end, and with one end of this remarkable chain attached to his waist Tarzan at last succeeded in reaching the summit. Once there he drew up one of his blacks, and in this way the entire party was finally landed in safety upon the boulder's top. Immediately Tarzan led them to the treasure chamber, where to each was allotted a load of two ingots for each about eighty pounds. By midnight the entire party stood once more at the foot of the boulder, but with their heavy loads it was mid-four noon ere they reached the summit of the cliffs. From there on the homeward journey was slow, as these proud fighting men were unaccustomed to the duties of porters, but they bore their burdens uncomplainingly, and at the end of thirty days entered their own country. Here, instead of continuing on toward the northwest and their village, Tarzan guided them almost directly west, until on the morning of the thirty-third day he bade them break camp and returned to their own village, leaving the gold where they had stacked it the previous night. "'And you, was Erie?' they asked. "'I shall remain here for a few days, my children,' he replied. "'Now hasten back to thy wives and children.' When they had gone, Tarzan gathered up two of the ingots, and springing into a tree, ran lightly above the tangled and impenetrable mass of undergrowth for a couple of hundred yards, to emerge suddenly upon a circular clearing about which the giants of the jungle forest towered like a guardian host. In the center of this natural amphitheater was a little flat-top mound of hard earth. Hundreds of times before had Tarzan been to this secluded spot, which was so densely surrounded by thornbushes, and tangled vines and creepers of huge girth that not even Sheeta the leopard could worm his sinuous way within, nor Tantor, with his giant strength, forced the barriers which protected the council chamber of the great apes from all but the harmless denizens of the savage jungle. Fifty trips Tarzan made before he had deposited all the ingots within the precincts of the amphitheater. Then from the hollow of an ancient lightning-blasted tree he produced the very spade with which he had uncovered the chest of Professor Archimedes Cupider, which he had once ape-like buried in this self-same spot. With this he dug a long trench into which he laid the fortune that his blacks had carried from the forgotten treasure vaults of the city of Opar. That night he slept within the amphitheater, and early the next morning set out to revisit his cabin before returning to his Waziri. Finding things as he had left them he went forth into the jungle to hunt, intending to bring his prey to the cabin where he might feast in comfort, spending the night upon a comfortable couch. For five miles toward the south he roamed toward the banks of a fair-sized river that flowed into the sea about six miles from his cabin. He had gone inland about half a mile when there came suddenly to his train nostrils the one scent that sets the whole savage jungle aquiver. Tarzan smelled man. The wind was blowing off the ocean so Tarzan knew that the authors of the scent were west of him. Mixed with the man's scent was the scent of Numa, man and lion. I had better hasten, thought the ape-man, for he had recognized the scent of wise. Numa may be a hunting. When he came through the trees to the edge of the jungle he saw a woman kneeling in prayer, and before her stood a wild, primitive looking white man his face buried in his arms. Behind the man a mangy lion was advancing slowly toward this easy prey. The man's face was averted, the woman's bowed in prayer. He could not see the features of either. Already Numa was about to spring. There was not a second to spare. Tarzan could not even unsling his bow and fit an arrow in time to send one of his deadly poisoned shafts into the yellow hide. He was too far away to reach the beast in time with his knife, there was but a single hope, a lone alternative, and with the quickness of thought the ape-man acted. A brawny arm flew back, for the briefest fraction of an instant a huge spear poised above the giant shoulder, and then the mighty arm shot out, and swift death tore through the intervening leaves to bury itself in the heart of the leaping lion. Without a sound he rolled over at the very feet of his intended victims, dead. For a moment neither the man nor the woman moved, then the latter opened her eyes to look with wonder upon the dead beast behind her companion. As that beautiful head went up Tarzan of the apes gave a gasp of incredulous astonishment. Was he mad? It could not be the woman he loved. But indeed it was none other, and the woman rose, and the man took her in his arms to kiss her, and of a sudden the ape-man saw red through a bloody mist of murder, and the old scar upon his forehead burned scarlet against his brown hide.  For an instant he glanced along the polished shaft, drawing the bowstring far back that the arrow might pierce through the heart for which it was aimed. But he did not release the fatal messenger. Slowly the point of the arrow dropped. The scar upon the brown forehead faded. The bowstring relaxed, and Tarzan of the apes with bowed head turned sadly into the jungle toward the village of the Waziri. For several long minutes Jane Porter and William Cecil Clayton stood silently looking at the dead body of the beast whose prey they had so narrowly escaped becoming. The girl was the first to speak again after her outbreak of impulsive avowal. Who could it have been? she whispered. God knows, was the man's only reply. If it is a friend, why does he not show himself? continued Jane. Wouldn't it be well to call out to him and at least thank him? Mechanically Clayton did her bidding. But there was no response. Jane Porter shuddered. The mysterious jungle, she murmured. The terrible jungle. It renders even the manifestations of friendship terrifying. We had best return to the shelter, said Clayton. You will be at least a little safer there. I am no protection, whatever, he added bitterly. Do not say that, William, she hastened to urge. Acutely sorry for the wound her words had caused. You have done the best you could. You have been noble and self-sacrificing and brave. It is no fault of yours that you're not a superman. There is only one other man I have ever known who could have done more than you. My words were ill-chosen in the excitement of the reaction. I did not wish to wound you. All that I wish is that we may both understand once and for all that I can never marry you, that such a marriage would be wicked. I think I understand, he replied. Let us not speak of it again, at least until we are back in civilization. The next day Thuron was worse. Almost constantly he was in a state of delirium. They could do nothing to relieve him, nor was Clayton over-anxious to attempt anything. On the girl's account he feared the Russian. In the bottom of his heart he hoped the man would die. The thought that something might befall him that would leave her entirely at the mercy of this beast caused him greater anxiety than the probability that almost certain death awaited her should she be left entirely alone upon the outskirts of the cruel forest. The Englishman had extracted the heavy spear from the body of the lion so that when he went into the forest to hunt that morning he had a feeling of much greater security than at any time since they had been cast upon the savage shore. The result was that he penetrated farther from the shelter than ever before. To escape as far as possible from the mad ravings of the fever-stricken Russian Jane Porter had descended from the shelter to the foot of the tree, she dared not venture farther. Here, beside the crude ladder Clayton had constructed for her, she sat looking out to sea, in the always surviving hope that a vessel might be sighted. Her back was toward the jungle, and so she did not see the grass's part or the savage face that peered from between. The little bloodshot, close set eyes, scanned her intently, roving from time to time about the open beach for indication of the presence of others than herself. Presently another had appeared, and then another, and another. The man in the shelter commenced to rave again, and the heads disappeared as silently and as suddenly as they had come, but soon they were thrust forth once more, as the girl gave no sign of perturbation at the continued wailing of the man above. One by one grotesque forms emerged from the jungle to creep stealthily upon the unsuspecting woman. A faint rustling of the grasses attracted her attention. She turned, and at the sight that confronted her staggered to her feet with a little shriek of fear, then they closed upon her with a rush, lifting her bodily in his long gorilla-like arms. One of the creatures turned and bore her into the jungle.  Added to the weeks of torture she had already undergone, the shock was more than she could withstand. Shattered nerves collapsed, and she lost consciousness. When she regained her senses she found herself in the thick of the primeval forest. It was night. A huge fire burned brightly in the little clearing in which she lay. About it squatted fifty frightful men. Their heads and faces were covered with matted hair. Their long arms rested upon the bent knees of their short, crooked legs. They were gnawing like beasts upon unclean food. A pot boiled upon the edge of the fire, and out of it one of the creatures would occasionally drag a hunk of meat with a sharpened stick. When they discovered that their captive had regained consciousness, a piece of this repulsive stew was tossed to her from the foul hand of a nearby feaster. It rolled close to her side, but she only closed her eyes as a qualm of nauseous surge through her. For many days they traveled through the dense forest. The girl foot sore and exhausted was half dragged, half pushed through the long hot tedious days. Occasionally when she would stumble and fall she was cuffed and kicked by the nearest of the frightful men. Long before they reached their journey's end her shoes had been discarded, the soles entirely gone. Her clothes were torn to mere shreds and tatters, and through the pitiful rags her once white and tender skin showed raw and bleeding from contact with the thousand pitiless thorns and brambles through which she had been dragged. The last two days of the journey found her in such utter exhaustion that no amount of kicking and abuse could force her to her poor bleeding feet. Outrage nature had reached the limit of endurance, and the girl was physically powerless to raise herself even to her knees. As the beast surrounded her, chattering threateningly the while they goaded her with their cudgels and beat and kicked her with their fists and feet she lay with closed eyes, praying for the merciful death that she knew alone could give her surseys from suffering, but it did not come, and presently the fifty frightful men realized that their victim was no longer able to walk, and so they picked her up and carried her the balance of the journey. Late one afternoon she saw the ruined walls of a mighty city looming before them, but so weak and sick was she that it inspired not the faintest shadow of interest. Wherever they were bearing her there could be but one end who her captivity among these fierce half-broods. At last they passed through two great walls and came to the ruined city within. Into a crumbling pile they bore her, and here she was surrounded by hundreds more of the same creatures that had brought her, but among them were females who looked less horrible. At sight of them the first faint hope that she had entertained came to mitigate her misery, but it was short lived, for the women offered her no sympathy, though on the other hand neither did they abuse her. After she had been inspected to the entire satisfaction of the inmates of the building she was born to a dark chamber in the vaults beneath, and here upon the bare floor she was left with a metal bowl of water and another of food. For a week she saw only some of the women whose duty it was to bring her food and water. Slowly her strength was returning. Soon she would be in fit condition to offer her as a sacrifice to the flaming God. Fortunate indeed it was that she could not know the fate for which she was destined. As Tarzan of the Apes moved slowly through the jungle after casting a spear that saved Clayton and Jane Porter from the fangs of Numa his mind was filled with all the sorrow that belongs to a freshly opened heart wound.  Only the fraction of a second had stood between Clayton and death at the hands of the ape-man. In the short moment that had elapsed after he had recognized the girl and her companion and the relaxing of the taut muscles that held the poison shaft directed at the Englishman's heart Tarzan had been swayed by the swift and savage impulses of brute life. He had seen the woman he craved, his woman, his mate, in the arms of another. There had been but one course open to him, according to the fierce jungle code that guided him in this other existence, but just before it had become too late, the softer sentiments of his inherent chivalry had risen above the flaming fires of his passion and saved him. A thousand times he gave thanks that they had triumphed before his fingers had released that polished arrow. As he contemplated his return to the Waziri the idea became repugnant. He did not wish to see a human being again. At least he would range alone through the jungle for a time until the sharp edge of his sorrow had become blunted. Like his fellow beast he preferred to suffer in silence and alone. That night he slept again in the amphitheater of the apes, and for several days he hunted from there returning at night. On the afternoon of the third day he returned early. He had lain stretched upon the soft grass of the circular clearing for but a few moments when he heard far to the south a familiar sound. It was the passing through the jungle of a band of great apes. He could not mistake that. For several minutes he lay listening. They were coming in the direction of the amphitheater. Tarzan rose lazily and stretched himself. His keen ears followed every movement of the advancing tribe. They were upwind and presently he caught their scent, though he had not needed this added evidence to assure him that he was right. As they came closer to the amphitheater Tarzan of the apes melted into the branches upon the other side of the arena. There he waited to inspect the newcomers. Nor had he longed to wait. Presently a fierce hairy face appeared among the lower branches opposite him. The cruel little eyes took in the clearing at a glance. Then there was a shattered report returned to those behind. Tarzan could hear the words. The scout was telling the other members of the tribe that the coast was clear and that they might enter the amphitheater in safety. First the leader dropped lightly upon the soft carpet of the grassy floor, and then one by one nearly a hundred anthropoids followed him. There were the huge adults and several young. A few nursing babes clung close to the shaggy necks of their savage mothers. Tarzan recognized many members of the tribe. It was the same into which he had come as a tiny babe. Many of the adults had been little apes during his boyhood. He had frolicked and played about this very jungle with them during their brief childhood. He wondered if they would remember him. The memory of some apes is not over long, and two years may be an eternity to them. From the talk which he overheard he learned that they had come to choose a new king. Their late chief had fallen a hundred feet beneath a broken limb, to an untimely end. Tarzan walked to the end of an overhanging limb in plain view of them. The quick eyes of a female caught sight of him first, with a barking guttural she called the attention of the others. Several huge bulls stood erect to get a better view of the intruder. With bared fangs and bristling necks they advanced slowly toward him, with deep-throated ominous growls. "'Karnath, I am Tarzan of the apes,' said the ape-man and the vernacular of the tribe. "'You remember me?' Together we teased Numa when we were still little apes, throwing sticks and nuts at him from the safety of high branches. The brute he had addressed stopped with a look of half-comprehending, dull wonderment upon his savage face. "'And Megwar,' continued Tarzan, addressing another, "'do you not recall your former king, he who slew the mighty Kerchak? "'Look at me! Am I not the same Tarzan, mighty hunter, invincible fighter, that you all knew for many seasons?' The apes all crowded forward now, but more in curiosity than threatening. They muttered among themselves for a few moments. "'What do you want among us now?' asked Karnath. "'Only peace,' answered the ape-man. Again the apes conferred. At length Karnath spoke again. "'Come in peace, then, Tarzan of the apes,' he said. And so Tarzan of the apes dropped lightly to the turf into the midst of the fierce and hideous horde. He had completed the cycle of evolution and had returned to be once again a brute among brutes. There were no greetings such as would have taken place among men after a separation of two years. The majority of the apes went on about the little activities that the advent of the ape-man had interrupted, paying no further attention to him than as though he had not been gone from the tribe at all. One or two young bulls, who had not been old enough to remember him, sidled up on all fours to sniff at him, and one bared his fangs and growled threateningly. He wished to put Tarzan immediately into his proper place. Had Tarzan backed off, growling, the young bull would quite probably have been satisfied. But always after Tarzan's station among his fellow apes would have been beneath that of the bull which had made him step aside. But Tarzan of the apes did not back off.  The ape was up and at him again in a second, and this time they closed with tearing fingers and rending fangs. Or at least that had been the intention of the young bull. But scarcely had they gone down, growling and snapping, then the ape-man's fingers found the throat of his antagonist. Presently the young bull ceased to struggle, and lay quite still. Then Tarzan released his hold and arose. He did not wish to kill, only to teach the young ape, and others who might be watching, that Tarzan of the apes was still master. The lessons served its purpose. The young apes kept out of his way, as young apes should when their betters were about, and the old bulls made no attempt to encroach upon his prerogatives. For several days the she-apes with young remain suspicious of him, and when he ventured too near rest upon him with wide mouths and hideous roars. Then Tarzan discreetly skipped out of harm's way, for that also is a custom among the apes. Only mad bulls will attack a mother, but after a while even they became accustomed to him. He hunted with them as in days gone by, and when they found that his superior reason guided him to the best food sources, and that his cunning rope ensnared toothsome game that they seldom if ever tasted, they came again to look up to him as they had in the past after he had become their king, and so it was that before they left the amphitheater to return to their wanderings they had once more chosen him as their leader. The ape-man felt quite contented with his new lot. He was not happy that he never could be again, but he was at least as far from everything that might remind him of his past misery as he could be, long since he had given up every intention of returning to civilization, and now he had decided to see no more his black friends of the Waziri. He had foresworn humanity forever. He had started life an ape as an ape he would die. He could not, however, erase from his memory the fact that the woman he loved was within a short journey of the stamping ground of his tribe, nor could he banish the haunting fear that she might be constantly in danger, that she was poorly protected he had seen in the brief instant that had witnessed Clayton's inefficiency. The more Tarzan thought of it the more keenly his conscience pricked him. Finally he came to loathe himself for permitting his own selfish sorrow and jealousy to stand between Jane Porter and safety. As the days passed the thing prayed more and more upon his mind, and he had about determined to return to the coast and place himself on guard over Jane Porter and Clayton when news reached him that altered all his plans and sent him dashing madly toward the east in reckless disregard of accident and death. Before Tarzan had returned to the tribe a certain young bull not being able to secure a mate from among his own people had, according to custom, fared forth through the wild jungle like some night errand of old to win a fair lady from some neighboring community. He had but just returned with his bride and was narrating his adventures quickly before he should forget them. Among other things he told of seeing a great tribe of strange-looking apes. They were all hairy-faced bulls but one, he said, and that one was a she, lighter in color even than this stranger. And he chucked a thumb at Tarzan. The ape-man was all attention in an instant. He asked questions as rapidly as the slow-witted anthrapoid could answer them. Were the bulls short with crooked legs? They were. Did they wear the skins of Numa and Cheetah about their loins and carry sticks and knives? They did. And were there many yellow rings about their arms and legs? Yes. And the she-one? Was she small and slender and very white? Yes. Did she seem to be one of the tribe or was she a prisoner?  Oh, but it was great fun to watch them. Damn, muttered Tarzan. Where were they when you saw them? And which way were they going, continued the ape-man? They were beside the second water back there. And he pointed to the south. When they passed me they were going toward the morning, upward along the edge of the water. When was this, asked Tarzan? Half a moon since. Without another word the ape-man sprang into the trees and fled like a disembodied spirit eastward in the direction of the forgotten city of Opar. End of chapter 23, chapter 24 of The Return of Tarzan. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 24, How Tarzan Came Again to Opar. When Clayton returned to the shelter and found Jane Porter was missing, he became frantic with fear and grief. He found Mr. Thuron quite rational, the fever having left him with the surprising suddenness which is one of 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 surprised to know that she was not there. I have heard nothing unusual, he said, but then I have been unconscious much of the time. Had it not been for the man's very evident weakness Clayton should have suspected him of having sinister knowledge of the girl's whereabouts. But he could see that Thuron lacked sufficient vitality even to descend and aided from the shelter. He could not in his present physical condition have harmed the girl, nor could he have climbed the rude ladder back to the shelter. Until dark the Englishman searched the nearby jungle for a trace of the missing one, or a sign of the trail of her abductor. But though the spore left by the fifty frightful men, unburst in woodcraft, as they were, would have been as plain to the densest denizen of the jungle as a city street to the Englishman, yet he crossed and recrossed it twenty times without observing the slightest indication that many men had passed that way but a few short-hours since. As he searched Clayton continued to call the girl's name aloud, but the only result of this was to attract Numa the lion. Suddenly the man saw the shadowy form, worming its way toward him. In time to climb into the branches of a tree before the beast was close enough to reach him, this put an end to his search for the balance of the afternoon as the lion paced back and forth beneath him until dark. Even after the beast had left, Clayton dared not descend into the awful blackness beneath him, and so he spent a terrifying and hideous night in the tree. The next morning he returned to the beach, relinquishing the last hope of suckering Jane Porter. During the week that followed, M. Thuron rapidly regained his strength, lying in the shelter while Clayton hunted food for both. The men never spoke except as necessity demanded. Clayton now occupied the section of the shelter which had been reserved for Jane Porter, and only saw the Russian when he took food or water to him, or performed the other kindly offices which common humanity required. When Thuron was again able to descend in search of food, Clayton was stricken with fever. For days he lay tossing and delirium and suffering, but not once did the Russian come 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 he was, he managed to reach the brook once a day and fill a tiny can that had been among the few appointments of the lifeboat. Thuron watched him on these occasions with an expression of malignant pleasure. He seemed really to enjoy the suffering of the man who, despite the just contempt in which he held him, had ministered to him to the best of his ability while he lay suffering the same agonies. At last Clayton became so weak that he was no longer able to descend from the shelter. For a day he suffered for water without appealing to the Russian, but finally unable to endure it longer he asked Thuron to fetch him a drink. The Russian came to the entrance, to Clayton's room, a dish of water in his hand. A nasty grin contorted his features. Here is water, he said, but first let me remind you that you maligned me before the girl, that you kept her to yourself and would not share her with me. Clayton interrupted him. Stop! he cried. Stop! What manner of cur are you that you produce the character of a good woman whom we believe dead? God, I was a fool ever to let you live. You are not fit to live even in this vile land. Here is your water, said the Russian, all you will get. And he raised the basin to his lips and drank. What was left he threw out upon the ground below, then he turned and left the sick man. Clayton rolled over and, burying his face in his arms, gave up the battle. The next day Thuron determined to set out toward the north, along the coast, for he knew that eventually he must come to the habitations of civilized men, at least he could be no worse off than he was here. And furthermore the ravings 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 not occurred to him that it would really have been a kindness to do so. That same day he came to a little cabin by the beach, and his heart filled with renewed hope as he saw this evidence of the proximity of civilization, for he thought it but the outpost of a nearby settlement, had he known to whom it belonged, and that its owner was at that very moment but a few miles inland, Nicholas Rockoff, would have fled the place as he would have pestled once. But he did not know, and so he remained for a few days to enjoy the security and comparative comforts of the cabin, then he took up his northward journey once more. In Lord Tennington's camp preparations were going forward to build permanent quarters, and then to send out an expedition of a few men to the north in search of relief. As the days passed, without bringing the longed-for sucker, hope that Jane Porter, Clayton, and Mr. Thuron had been rescued began to die. No one spoke of the matter longer to Professor Porter, and he was so immersed in his scientific dreaming that he was not aware of the elapse of time. Occasionally he would remark that within a few days they should certainly see a steamer drop anger off their shore, and that then they should all be reunited happily. Sometimes he spoke of it as a train, and wondered if it were being delayed by snowstorms. If I didn't know the dear old fellows well by now, Tennington remarked to Miss Strong, I should be quite certain that he was a not quite right, don't you know?  It is only that he is so absolutely impractical that he cannot conceive of so real a thing as death unless nearly certain proof of it is thrust upon him. You'd never guess what he was about yesterday, continued Tennington. I was coming in alone from a little hunt when I met him walking rapidly along the game-trail that I was following back to camp. His hands were 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. And where in the world are you bound, Professor? I asked him. I am going into town, Lord Tennington, he said, as seriously as possible, to complain to the Postmaster about the rural, freed delivery service we are suffering from here. Why, sir, I haven't had a piece of mail in weeks. There should be several letters for me from Jane. The matter must be reported to Washington at once. And would you believe it, Miss Strong, continued Tennington, I had the very deuce of a job to convince the old fellow that there was not only no rural, freed delivery, but no town, and that he was not even on the same continent as Washington, nor in the same hemisphere. When he did realize, he commenced to worry about his daughter. I think it is the first time that he really has appreciated our position here, or the fact that Miss Porter may not have been rescued.  Let us hope for the best, replied Tennington. You yourself have set us each a splendid example of bravery, for in a way your loss has been the greatest. Yes, she replied, I could have loved Jane Porter no more had she been my own sister. Tennington did not show the surprise he felt. That was not at all what he meant. He had been much with this fair daughter of Marilyn since the wreck of the Lady Alice, and it had recently come to him that he had grown much more fond of her than would prove good for the peace of his mind, for he recalled almost constantly now the confidence which Monsieur Thuron had imparted to him that he and Miss Strong were engaged. He wondered if, after all, Thuron had been quite accurate in his statement. He had never seen the slightest indication on the girl's part of more than ordinary friendship. And then in Monsieur Thuron's loss, if they are lost, you would suffer a severe bereavement, he ventured. She looked up at him quickly. Monsieur Thuron had become a 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, no, she cried. I did not care for him at all in that way. There was something that Lord Tennington wanted to say to Hazel Strong. He wanted very badly to say it and to say it at once.  He started lamely a couple of times, cleared his throat, became red in the face, and finally ended by remarking that he hoped the cabins would be finished before the rainy season commenced. But though he did not know it, he had conveyed to the girl 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 sight of a strange and terrible-looking figure which emerged from the jungle just south of the camp. Tennington and the girl saw it at the same time. The Englishman reached for his revolver, but when the half-naked bearded creature called his name aloud and came running toward them, he dropped his hand and advanced to meet it. None would have recognized in the filthy, emaciated creature covered by a single garment of small skins the immaculate M. Thuron the party had last seen upon the deck of the Lady Alice. Before the other members of the little community were apprised of his presence, Tennington and Miss Strong questioned him regarding the other occupants of the missing boat. They are all dead, replied Thuron. The three sailors died before we made land. Miss Porter was carried off into the jungle by some wild animal while I was lying delirious with fever. Clayton died of the same fever but a few days since. And to think that all this time we have been separated but by a few miles, scarcely a day's march. It is terrible. How long, Jane Porter lay in the darkness of the vault beneath the temple in the ancient city of Opar, she did not know. For a time she was delirious with fever, but after this past she commenced slowly to regain her strength. Every day the woman who brought her food beckoned to her to her eyes, but for many days the girl could only shake her head to indicate that she was too weak. But eventually she was able to gain her feet and then to stagger a few steps by supporting herself with one hand upon the wall. Her captors now watched her with increasing interest. The day was approaching and the victim was gaining in strength. Presently the day came and a young woman whom Jane Porter had not seen before came with several others to her dungeon. Here some sort of ceremony was performed, that it was of a religious nature the girl was sure, and so she took new heart and rejoiced that she had fallen among people upon whom the refining and softening influence of religion evidently had fallen. They would treat her humanely, of that 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 brilliant courtyard she went willingly, even gladly, for was she not among the servants of God? It might be, of course, that their interpretation of the Supreme Being differed from her own, but that they owned a God was sufficient evidence to her that they 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 floor she began to wonder and to doubt, and as they stooped and bound her ankles and secured her wrist behind her her doubts were turned to fear. A moment later, as she was lifted in place supine across the altar's top, hope left her entirely and she trembled in an agony of fright. During the grotesque dance of the voteries which followed she lay frozen in horror, nor did she require the sight of the thin blade in the hands of the high priestess as it rose slowly above her to enlighten her further as to her doom. As the hand began its descent, Jane Porter closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer to the maker she was soon to face. Then she succumbed to the strain upon her tired nerves and swooned. Day and night Tarzan of the Apes raced through the primeval forest toward the ruined city in which he was positive the woman he loved lay either a prisoner or dead. In a day and a night he covered the same distance that the fifty frightful men had taken the better part of a week to traverse, for Tarzan of the Apes traveled along the middle terrace high above the tangled obstacles that impede progress upon the ground. The story the young bull-ape had told made it clear to him that the girl captive had been Jane Porter, for there was not another small white she in all the jungle, the bulls he had recognized from the Apes crude description as the grotesque parodies upon humanity who inhabit the ruins of Opar, and the girl's fate he could picture as plainly as though he were an eyewitness to it. When they would lay her across that trim altar he could not guess, but that her dear frail body would eventually find its way there, he was confident. But finally after what seemed long ages to the impatient ape-man he topped the barrier-cliffs that hemmed the desolate valley, and below him lay the grim and awful ruins of the now hideous city of Opar. At a rapid trot he started across the dry and dusty, bolder strewn ground toward the goal of his desires. Would he be in time to rescue? He hoped against hope. At least he could be revensed, and in his wrath it seemed to him that he was equal to the task of wiping out the entire population of that terrible city. It was nearly noon when he reached the great boulder at the top of which terminated the secret passage to the pits beneath the city. Like a cat he scaled the precipitous sides of the frowning granite copgy. A moment later he was running through the darkness of the long, straight tunnel that led to the treasure vault. Through this he passed, then on and on until at last he came to the well-like shaft upon the opposite side of which lay the dungeon with the false wall. As he paused the moment upon the brink of the well a faint sound came to him through the opening above. His quick ears caught and translated it. It was the dance of death that preceded a sacrifice, and the sing-song ritual of the High Priestess. He could even recognize the woman's voice. Could it be that the ceremony marked the very thing he had so hastened to prevent? A wave of horror swept over him. Was he after all to be just a moment too late? Like a frightened deer he leaped across the narrow chasm to the continuation of the passage beyond. At the false wall he tore like one possessed to demolish the barrier that confronted him. With giant muscles he forced the opening, thrusting his head and shoulders through the first small hole 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 and threw himself against the ancient door. But here he stopped. The mighty bars upon the other side were proof even against such muscles as his. It needed but a moment's effort to convince him of the futility of endeavoring to force that impregnable barrier. There was but one other way, and that led back through the long tunnels to the boulder a mile beyond the city's walls, and then back across the open as he had come to the city first with his waziri. He realized that to retace his steps and enter the city from above ground would mean that he would be too late to save the girl, if it were indeed she who lay upon this sacrificial altar above him, but there seemed no other way, and so he turned and ran swiftly back into the passageway beyond the broken wall. At the well he heard again the monotonous voice of the high priestess, and as he glanced aloft the opening, twenty feet above, seemed so near that he was tempted leap for it in a mad endeavor to reach the inner courtyard that lay so near, if he could but get one end of his grass-rope caught upon some 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 on the floor beside him, the eight men took the heavy slab in both hands, and swinging it several times to get the distance in the 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 courtyard beyond. Tarzan dragged for a moment upon the slack end of the rope until he felt that the stone was lodged with fair security at the shaft's top, then he swung out over the black depths beneath. The moment his full weight came upon the rope he felt it slip from above. He waited there in awful suspense as it dropped in little jerks, inch by inch. The stone was being dragged up the outside of the masonry surrounding 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 hurtled into the unknown depths below? CHAPTER XXV. THROUGH THE FOREST PRIME EVIL. For a brief sickening moment Tarzan felt the slipping of the rope to which he clung, and heard the scraping of the block's tone against the masonry above. Then, of a sudden, the rope was still. The stone had caught at the very edge. Gingerly the eight men clamored up the frail rope. In a moment his head was above the edge of the shaft. The court was empty. The inhabitants of Opar were viewing the sacrifice. Tarzan could hear the voice of law from the nearby sacrificial court. The dance had ceased. It must be almost time for the knife to fall. But even as he thought these things he was running rapidly toward the sound of the High Priestess's voice. Fate guided him to the very doorway of the great roofless chamber. Between him and the altar was the long row of priests and priestesses awaiting with their golden cups the spilling of the warm blood of their victim. Law's hand was descending slowly toward the bosom of the frail quiet figure that lay stretched upon the hard stone. Tarzan gave a gasp that was almost a sob as he recognized the features of the girl he loved. And then the scar above his forehead turned to a flaming band of scarlet, a red mist floated before his eyes, and with the awful roar of the bull-ape gone mad he sprang like a huge lion into the midst of the voteries. Seizing a cudgel from the nearest priest he laid about him like a veritable demon as he forged his rapid way toward the altar. The hand of law had paused at the first noise of interruption. When she saw who the author of it was she went white. She had never been able to fathom the secret of the strange white man's escape from the dungeon in which she had locked him. She had not intended that he should ever leave Opar, for she had looked upon his giant frame and handsome face with the eyes of a woman and not those of a priestess. In her clever mind she had concocted a story of wonderful revelation from the lips of the flaming god himself in which she had been ordered to receive this white stranger as a messenger from him to his people on earth. That would satisfy the people of Opar, she knew. The man would be satisfied. She felt quite sure to remain and be her husband rather than to return to the sacrificial altar. But when she had gone to explain her plan to him he had disappeared, though the door had been tightly locked as she had left it. And now he had returned materialized from thin air and was killing her priests as though they had been sheep. For the moment she forgot her victim and before she could gather her wits together again the huge white man was standing before her, the woman who had lain upon the altar in his arms. One side, Law, he cried, you saved me once and so I would not harm you but do not interfere or attempt to follow or I shall have to kill you also. As he spoke he stepped past her toward the entrance to the subterranean vaults. Who is she? asked the high priestess, pointing at the unconscious woman. She is mine, said Tarzan of the Apes. For a moment the girl of Opar stood wide-eyed and staring. Then a look of hopeless misery suffused her eyes. Tears welled into them and with a little cry she sank to the cold floor just as a swarm of frightful men dashed past her to leap upon the ape-man. But Tarzan of the Apes was not there when they reached out to seize him. With a light bound he had disappeared into the passage leading to the pits below and when his pursuers came more cautiously after they found the chamber empty they but laughed and jabbered to one another for they knew that there was no exit from the pits other than the one through which he had entered. If he came out at all he must come this way and they would wait and watch for him above. And so Tarzan of the Apes carrying the unconscious Jane Porter came through the pits of Opar beneath the temple of the flaming god without pursuit. But when the men of Opar had talked further about the matter they recalled to mind that this very man had escaped once before into the pits and though they had watched the entrance he had not come forth and yet today he had come upon them from the outside. They would again send fifty men out into the valley to find and capture this desecrator of their temple. After Tarzan reached the shaft beyond the broken wall he felt so positive of the successful issue of his flight that he stopped to replace the tumbled stones, for he was not anxious that any of the inmates should discover this forgotten passage and through it come upon the treasure chamber. It was in his mind to return again to Opar and bear away a still greater fortune than he had already buried in the amphitheir of the apes. On through the passageways he trotted past the first door and through the treasure vault, past the second door and into the long straight tunnel that led to the lofty hidden exit beyond the city. Jane Porter was still unconscious. At the crest of the great boulder he halted to cast a backward glance toward the city. Coming across the plain he saw a band of the hideous men of Opar. For a moment he hesitated. Should he descend and make a race for the distant cliffs or should he hide here until night? And then a glance at the girl's white face determined him. He could not keep her here and permit her enemies to get between them in liberty. For ought he knew they might have been followed through the tunnels and to have foes before and behind would result in almost certain capture since he could not fight his way through the enemy burdened as he was with the unconscious girl. To descend the steep face of the boulder with Jane Porter was no easy task, but by binding her across his shoulders with the grass-rope he succeeded in reaching the ground in safety before the Oparians arrived at the great rock. As the descent had been made upon the side away from the city the searching party saw nothing of it nor did they dream that their prey was so close before them. By keeping the copchi between them and their pursuers Tarzan of the Apes managed to cover nearly a mile before the men of Opar rounded the granite sentinel and saw the fugitive before them. With loud cries of savage delight they broke into a mad run, thinking doubtless that they would soon overhaul the burden runner, but they both underestimated the powers of the ape-man and overestimated the possibilities of their own short, crooked legs. By maintaining an easy trot Tarzan kept the distance between them always the same. Occasionally he would glance at the face so near his own. Had it not been for the faint beating of the heart pressed so close against his own he would not have known that she was alive, so white and drawn was the poor tired face. And thus they came to the flat top mountain and the barrier cliffs. During the last mile Tarzan had let himself out, running like a deer that he might have ample time to descend the face of the cliffs before the Oparians could reach the summit and hurl rocks down upon them, and so it was that he was half a mile down the mountainside ere the fierce little men came panting to the edge. With cries of rage and disappointment they ranged along the cliff-tops shaking their cudgels and dancing up and down in a perfect passion of anger, but this time they did not pursue beyond the boundary of their own country, whether it was because they recalled the futility of their former long and irksome search, or after witnessing the ease with which the ape-man swung along before them and the last burst of speed they realized the other hopelessness of further pursuit it is difficult to say, but as Tarzan reached the woods that began at the base of the foothills which skirted the barrier cliffs they turned their faces once more toward Opar. Just within the forest edge where he could yet watch the cliff-tops Tarzan laid his burden upon the grass and going to the nearby rivulet brought water with which he bathed her face and hands, but even this did not revive her and greatly worried he gathered the girl into his strong arms once more and hurried on toward the west. Late in the afternoon Jane Porter regained consciousness. She did not open her eyes at once. She was trying to recall the scenes that she had last witnessed. Ah, she remembered now the altar, the terrible priestess, the descending knife. She gave a little shudder for she thought that either this was death or that the knife had buried itself in her heart and she was experiencing the brief delirium preceding death and when finally she mustered courage to open her eyes the sight that met them confirmed her fears for she saw that she was being born through a leafy paradise in the arms of her dead love. If this be death, she murmured, thank God that I am dead. You spoke, Jane, cried Tarzan, you are regaining consciousness. Yes, Tarzan of the apes, she replied, and for the first time in months a smile of peace and happiness lighted her face. Thank God! cried the ape man, coming to the ground and a little grassy clearing beside the stream. I was in time after all. In time? What do you mean? she questioned.  Do you not remember? Save me from death, she asked in a puzzled tone. Are we not both dead, my Tarzan? He had placed her upon the grass by now, her back resting against the stem of a huge tree. At her question he stepped back where he could the better see her face. Dead, he repeated, and then he laughed. You are not, Jane, and if you will return to the city of Opar and ask them who dwell there they will tell you that I was not dead a few short hours ago. No, dear, we are both very much alive. But both Hazel and Mr. Thuron told me that you had fallen into the ocean many miles from land, she urged that though trying to convince him that he must indeed be dead, they said that there was no question but that it must have been you, and less that you could have survived or been picked up. How can I convince you that I am no spirit? he asked with a laugh. It was I whom the delightful Mr. Thuron pushed overboard, but I did not drown. I will tell you all about it after a while. And here I am very much the same wild man you first knew, Jane Porter. The girl rose slowly to her feet and came toward him. I cannot even yet believe it, she murmured. It cannot be that such happiness can be true after all the hideous things that I have passed through these awful months since the Lady Alice went down. She came close to him and laid a hand, soft and trembling upon his arm. It must be that I am dreaming, and that I shall awaken in a moment to see that awful knife descending toward my heart. Kiss me, dear, just once before I lose my dream for ever. Tarzan of the apes needed no second invitation. He took the girl he loved in his strong arms and kissed her, not once, but a hundred times, until she lay their panting for breath. Yet, when he stopped, she put her arms about his neck and drew his lips down to hers once more. Am I alive and a reality, or am I but a dream? he asked. If you are not alive, my man, she answered, I pray that I may die thus before I awaken to the terrible realities of my last waking moments. For a while both were silent, gazing into each other's eyes as though each still questioned the reality of the wonderful happiness that had come to them. The past with all its hideous disappointments and horrors was forgotten. The future did not belong to them, but the present, ah, it was theirs. None could take it from them. It was the girl who first broke the sweet silence. Where are we going, dear? she asked. What are we going to do? Where would you like best to go? he asked. What would you like best to do? To go where you go, my man, to do whatever seems best to you, she answered. But Clayton, he asked, for a moment he had forgotten that there existed upon the earth other than they too. We have forgotten your husband. I am not married, Tarzan of the apes, she cried, nor am I longer promised in marriage the day before those awful creatures captured me. I spoke to Mr. Clayton of my love for you, and he understood then that I could not keep the wicked promise that I had made. It was after we had been miraculously saved from an attacking lion. She paused suddenly and looked up at him, a questioning light in her eyes. Tarzan of the apes, she cried. It was you who did that thing. It could have been no other. He dropped his eyes, for he was ashamed. How could you have gone away and left me? she cried reproachfully. Don't, Jane, he pleaded. Please don't. You cannot know how I have suffered since for the cruelty of that act, or how I suffered then, first in jealous rage, and then in bitter resentment against the fate that I had not deserved. I went back to the apes after that Jane, intending never again to see a human being. He told her then of his life, since he had returned to the jungle, of how he had dropped like a plummet from a civilized Parisian to a savage Waziri warrior, and from there back to the brute that he had been raised. She asked him many questions, and at last fearfully of the things that Monsieur Taran had told her of the woman in Paris. He narrated every detail of his civilized life to her, omitting nothing, for he felt no shame, since his heart always had been true to her. When he had finished he sat looking at her, as though waiting for her judgment and his sentence. I knew that he was not speaking the truth, she said.  You are not angry with me then, he asked, and her reply, though apparently most irrelevant, was truly feminine. Is Olga de Couday very beautiful, she asked, and Tarzan laughed and kissed her again. Not one-tenth so beautiful as you, dear, he said.  He knew that he was forgiven. That night Tarzan built a snug little bower high among the swaying branches of a giant tree, and there the tired girl slept, while in a crotch beneath her the eight-man curled, ready, even in sleep, to protect her. It took them many days to make the long journey to the coast, where the way was easy they walked hand in hand beneath the arching boughs of the mighty forest, as might in a far-gone past have walked their primeval forebears. When the underbrush was tangled he took her in his great arms and bore her lightly through the trees, and the days were all too short for they were very happy. Had it not been for their anxiety to reach and sucker Clayton they would have drawn out the sweet pleasure of that wonderful journey indefinitely. On the last day before they reached the coast Tarzan caught the scent of men, ahead of them, the scent of black men. He told the girl and cautioned her to maintain silence. There are few friends in the jungle, he remarked dryly. In half an hour they came stealthily upon a small party of black warriors, filing toward the west. As Tarzan saw them he gave a cry of delight. It was a band of his own Waziri. Boussouli was there, and others who had accompanied him to Opar. At sight of him they danced and cried out in exuberant joy. For weeks they had been searching for him, they told him. The blacks exhibited considerable wondermen at the presence of the white girl with him, and when they found that she was to be his woman they vied with one another to do her honour. With the happy Waziri laughing and dancing about them they came to the rude shelter by the shore. There was no sign of life, and no response to their calls. Tarzan clamoured quickly to the interior of the little tree hut, only to emerge a moment later with an empty tin. Throwing it down to Boussouli he told him to fetch water, and then he back into Jane Porter to come up. Together they leaned over the emaciated thing that once had been an English nobleman. Tears came to the girl's eyes as she saw the poor, sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, and the lines of suffering upon the once young and handsome face. He still lives, said Tarzan. We will do all that can be done for him, but I fear that we are too late. When Boussouli had brought the water Tarzan forced a few drops between the cracked and swollen lips. He wedded the hot forehead and bathed the pitiful limbs. Presently Clayton opened his eyes. A faint, shadowy smile lighted his countenance as he saw the girl leaning over him. At sight of Tarzan the expression changed to one of wonderment. It's all right, old fellow, said the eight man. We've found you in time. Everything will be all right now, and we'll have you on your feet again before you know it. The Englishman shook his head weakly. It's too late, he whispered, but it's just as well.  Where is Mr. Theron? asked the girl. He left me after the fever got bad. He is a devil. When I begged for the water that I was too weak to get, he drank before me, threw the rest out, and laughed in my face. At the thought of it the man was suddenly animated by a spark of vitality. He raised himself upon one elbow. Yes, he almost shouted, I will live. I will live long enough to find and kill that beast. But the brief effort left him weaker than before, and he sank back again upon the rotting grasses that, with his old lulster, had been the bed of Jane Porter. Don't worry about Theron, said Tarzan of the Apes, laying a reassuring hand on Clayton's forehead. He belongs to me, and I shall get him in the end, never fear. For a long time Clayton lay very still. Several times Tarzan had to put his ear quite close to the sungan chest to catch the faint beating of the worn-out heart. Toward evening he aroused again for a brief moment. Jane, he whispered. The girl bent her head closer to catch the faint message. I have wronged you and him, he nodded weakly toward the ape-man. I loved you so. It is a poor excuse to offer her for injuring you, but I could not bear to think of giving you up. I do not ask your forgiveness. I only wish to do now the thing I should have done over a year ago. He fumbled in the pocket of the lulster beneath him for something that he had discovered there while he lay between the paroxysms of fever. Presently he found it, a crumpled bit of yellow paper. He handed it to the girl, and as she took it his arm fell limply across his chest.  Then Tarzan of the apes drew a fold of the lulster across the upturned face. For a moment they remained kneeling there, the girl's lips moving in silent prayer, and as they rose and stood on either side of the now peaceful form, tears came to the ape-man's eyes, for through the anguish that his own heart had suffered he had learned compassion for the suffering of others. Through her own tears the girl read the message upon the bit of faded yellow paper, and as she read her eyes went very wide. Twice she read those startling words before she could fully comprehend their meaning. Fingerprints prove you gray-stoke. Congratulations, Darno! She handed the paper to Tarzan, and he has known it all this time, she said, and did not tell you. I knew it first, Jane, replied the man. I did not know that he knew it at all. I must have dropped this message that night in the waiting-room. It was there that I received it.  The title and the estates meant nothing to me without you, dear, he replied, and if I had taken them away from him I should have been robbing the woman I love. Don't you understand, Jane? It was as though he attempted to excuse a fault. She extended her arms toward him across the body of the dead man and took his hands in hers. And I would have thrown away a love like that, she said. End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 of the Return of Tarzan This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The Return of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs Chapter 26 The Passing of the Ape-Man The next morning they set out upon the short journey to Tarzan's cabin. Four Waziri bore the body of the dead Englishman. It had been the ape-man's suggestion that Clayton be buried beside the former Lord Greystoke near the edge of the jungle against the cabin that the older man had built. Jane Porter was glad that it was to be so, and in her heart of heart she wondered at the marvellous fineness of character of this wondrous man who, though raised by brutes and among brutes, had the true chivalry and tenderness which only associates with the refinements of the highest civilization. They had proceeded some three miles of the five that had separated them from Tarzan's own beach when the Waziri, who were ahead, stopped suddenly, pointing in amazement at a strange figure approaching them along the beach.  At sight of him Jane Porter uttered a little cry of surprise and joy and ran quickly ahead to meet him. At the sound of her voice the old man looked up, and when he saw who it was confronting him he too cried out in relief and happiness as Professor Archimedes Q. Porter folded his daughter in his arms, tears streamed down his seemed old face, and it was several minutes before he could control himself sufficiently to speak. When a moment later he recognized Tarzan it was with difficulty that they could convince him that his sorrow had not unbalanced his mind, for with the other members of the party he had been so thoroughly convinced that the eight man was dead it was a problem to reconcile the conviction with the very lifelike appearance of Jane's forest god. The old man was deeply touched at the news of Clayton's death. I cannot understand it, he said. Mr. Thuron assured us that Clayton passed away many days ago. Thuron is with you, asked Tarzan. Yes, he but recently found us and led us to your cabin. We were camped but a short distance north of it. Bless me, but he will be delighted to see you both. And surprised, commented Tarzan. A short time later the strange party came to the clearing in which stood the eight man's cabin. It was filled with people coming and going, and almost the first whom Tarzan saw was Darno. Paul, he cried, in the name of sanity what are you doing here, or are we all insane? It was quickly explained, however, as were many other seemingly strange things. Darno's ship had been cruising along the coast on patrol duty when at the Lieutenant's suggestion they had anchored off the little landlocked harbor to have another look at the cabin and the jungle in which many of the officers and men had taken part in exciting adventures two years before. On landing they had found Lord Tennington's party and arrangements were being made to take them all on board the following morning and carry them back to civilization. Hazel Strong and her mother Esmeralda and Mr. Samuel T. Philander were almost overcome by happiness at Jane Porter's safe return. Her escape seemed to them little short of miraculous, and it was the consensus of opinion that it could have been achieved by no other man than Tarzan of the Apes. They loaded the uncomfortable eight man with eulogies and attentions until he wished himself back in the amphitheater of the Apes. All were interested in his savagery and many were the gifts the black men received from these friends of their king, but when they learned that he might sail away from them upon the great canoe that lay at anchor a mile offshore they became very sad. As yet the newcomers had seen nothing of Lord Tennington and Mr. Thuron. They had gone out for fresh meat early in the day and had not yet returned. How surprised this man, whose name you say is Rock-off, will be to see you, said Jane Porter to Tarzan. His surprise will be short-lived, replied the eight man grimly, and there was that in his tone that made her look up into his face in alarm. What she read there evidently confirmed her fears, for she put her hand upon his arm and pleaded with him to leave the Russian to the laws of France. In the heart of the jungle, dear, she said, with no other form of right or justice to appeal to other than your own mighty muscles you would be warranted in executing upon this man the sentence he deserves, but with the strong arm of a civilized government at your disposal it would be murdered to kill him now. Even your friends would have to submit to your arrest, or if you resisted it would plunge us all into misery and unhappiness again. I cannot bear to lose you again, my Tarzan. Promise me that you will but turn him over to Captain Dufresne and let the law take its course. The beast is not worth risking our happiness for. He saw the wisdom of her appeal and promised. A half hour later Rock-off and Tennington emerged from the jungle. They were walking side by side. Tennington was the first to note the presence of strangers in the camp. He saw the Black Warrior's palavering with the sailors from the cruiser, and then he saw a life-brown giant talking with Lieutenant Darno and Captain Dufresne. Who is that, I wonder, said Tennington to Rock-off. And as the Russian raised his eyes and met those of the eight men full upon him, he staggered and went white. He cried, and before Tennington realized what he intended he had thrown his gun to his shoulder and aiming point blank at Tarzan pulled the trigger. But the Englishman was close to him, so close that his hand reached the leveled barrel a fraction of a second before the hammer fell upon the cartridge and the bullet that was intended for Tarzan's heart whirred harmlessly above his head. Before the Russian could fire again the eight men was upon him and had rested the firearm from his grasp. Captain Dufresne, Lieutenant Darno, and a dozen sailors had rushed up at the sound of the shot, and now Tarzan turned the Russian over to them without a word. He had explained the matter to the French commander before Rock-off arrived, and the officer gave immediate orders to place the Russian in irons and confine him on board the cruiser.  The shot had brought Jane Porter and the others from the cabin, and a moment after the excitement had died down she greeted the surprised Lord Tennington. Tarzan joined them after he had taken the papers from Rock-off, and as he approached, Jane Porter introduced him to Tennington. John Clayton, Lord Grey Stoke, my Lord, she said. The Englishman looked his astonishment in spite of his most herculean efforts to appear courteous, and it required many repetitions of the strange story of the eight men, as told by himself, Jane Porter and Lieutenant Darno, to convince Lord Tennington that they were not all quite mad. At sunset they buried William Cecil Clayton beside the jungle graves of his uncle and his aunt, the former Lord and Lady Grey Stoke, and it was at Tarzan's request that three volleys were fired over the last resting place of a brave man who met his death bravely. Professor Porter, who in his younger days had been ordained a minister, conducted the simple services for the dead. About the grave with bowed head stood as strange a company of mourners as the sun ever looked down upon. There were French officers and sailors, two English lords, Americans, and a score of savage African braves. Following the funeral Tarzan asked Captain Dufresne to delay the sailing of the cruiser a couple of days while he went inland a few miles to fetch his belongings, and the officer gladly granted the favour. Late the next afternoon Tarzan and his wasiri returned with the first load of belongings and when the party saw the ancient ingots of virgin gold they swarmed upon the eight-man with a thousand questions, but he was smilingly obdurate to their appeals. He declined to give them the slightest clue as to the source of his immense treasure. There are a thousand that I left behind, he explained, for every one that I brought away, and when these are spent I may wish to return for more. The next day he returned to camp with the balance of his ingots, and when they were stored on board the cruiser Captain Dufresne said he felt like the commander of an old time Spanish galleon returning from the treasure-cities of the Aztecs. I don't know what minute my crew will cut my throat and take over the ship, he added. The next morning as they were preparing to embark upon the cruiser Tarzan ventured a suggestion to Jane Porter. Wild beasts are supposed to be devoid of sentiment, he said, but nevertheless I should like to be married in the cabin where I was born, beside the graves of my mother and my father, and surrounded by the savage jungle that always has been my home. Would it be quite regular, dear, she asked, for if it would I know of no other place in which I should rather be married to my forest-god than beneath the shade of his primeval forest, and when they spoke of it to the others they were assured that it would be quite regular and a most splendid termination of a remarkable romance. So the entire party assembled within the little cabin and about the door to witness the second ceremony that Professor Porter was to solanize within three days. Darno was to be best ma'am and Hazel Strong bridesmaid, until Tennington upset all the arrangements by another of his marvellous ideas. If Mrs. Strong is agreeable, he said, taking the bridesmaid's hand in his, Hazel and I think it would be ripping to make it a double wedding. The next day they sailed, and as the cruiser steam slowly out to sea, a tall man, immaculate in white flannel, and a graceful girl leaned against her rail to watch the receding shoreline upon which danced twenty naked black warriors of the Waziri, waving their spares above their savage heads and shouting farewells to their departing king. I should hate to think that I am looking upon the jungle for the last time, dear," he said, were it not that I know that I am going to a new world of happiness with you forever, and bending down Tarzan of the Apes kissed his mate upon her lips. END OF CHAPTER 26 END OF THE RETURN OF TARZAN BY EDGAR RICE-BURRELS Red by Ralph J. Snellson