had seen so marvellously clean cut features, or
a more high and noble countenance, and she wondered how it was that
this white man was upon the island and she not have known it. Possibly
he was a new arrival--his presence unguessed even by her father. That
he was neither English nor American was evident from the fact that he
could not understand her native tongue. Who could he be! What was he
doing upon their island!
As she watched his face he suddenly turned his eyes down upon her, and
as she looked hurriedly away she was furious with herself as she felt a
crimson flush mantle her cheek. The man only half sensed, in a vague
sort of way, the meaning of the tell tale color and the quickly averted
eyes; but he became suddenly aware of the pressure of her delicate body
against his, as he had not been before. Now he kept his eyes upon her
face as he walked, and a new emotion filled his breast. He did not
understand it, but it was very pleasant, and he knew that it was
because of the radiant thing that he carried in his arms.
The scream that had startled von Horn and Professor Maxon led them
along the trail toward the east coast of the island, and about halfway
of the distance they stumbled upon the dazed and bloody Sing just as he
was on the point of regaining consciousness.
"For God's sake, Sing, what is the matter?" cried von Horn. "Where is
"Big blute, he catchem Linee. Tly kill Sing. Head hit tlee. No see
any more. Wakee up--all glone," moaned the Chinaman as he tried to
gain his feet.
"Which way did he take her?" urged von Horn.
Sing's quick eyes scanned the surrounding jungle, and in a moment,
staggering to his feet, he cried, "Look see, klick! Foot plint!" and
ran, weak and reeling drunkenly, along the broad trail made by the
giant creature and its prey.
Von Horn and Professor Maxon followed closely in Sing's wake, the
younger man horrified by the terrible possibilities that obtruded
themselves into his imagination despite his every effort to assure
himself that no harm could come to Virginia Maxon before they reached
her. The girl's father had not spoken since they discovered that she
was missing from the campong, but his face was white and drawn; his
eyes wide and glassy as those of one whose mind is on the verge of
madness from a great nervous shock.
Werper drew back in sudden fear of detection; but a second.Page 23
With a scream he turned to flee back into the lesser terrors of the gloomy corridors and apartments from which he had just emerged, but the frightful men anticipated his intentions.Page 28
The floor was covered by the bodies of those who already had given up their lives in her defense.Page 37
What purpose prompted the Belgian in leading the victim of his treachery and greed back toward his former home it is difficult to guess, unless it was that without Tarzan there could be no ransom for Tarzan's wife.Page 39
But avarice it was that burned most strongly in his breast, to the end that he dared the dangers and suffered the terrors of constant association with him he thought a mad man, rather than give up the hope of obtaining possession of the fortune which the contents of the little pouch represented.Page 50
Mugambi slunk closer to the corner of the building.Page 56
It was purely an exhibition of jungle bluff.Page 60
She made them build her a strong protection and shelter each night and keep a great fire burning before it from dusk to dawn.Page 75
wall, aided by the rope which he clutched in both hands.Page 85
Slowly Jane Clayton started across the clearing.Page 95
Before the doorway the sentries sat upon their haunches, conversing in monotones.Page 104
He watched with but a single purpose--to escape the ring of blood-mad fighters and be away after the Belgian and his pouch.Page 122
It would be far better to select a small guard of your bravest men, and leave word behind that we are riding WEST.Page 125
Mohammed Beyd is your only hope," and with this assertion to provide the captive with food for thought, the Arab spurred forward toward the head of the column.Page 137
Everything seemed to elude him--the pretty pebbles, the yellow metal, the she, his memory.Page 138
" "I saw all that," replied Tarzan; "but the pebbles in the pouch were not the pebbles of Tarzan--they were only such pebbles as fill the bottoms of the rivers, and the shelving banks beside them.Page 139
" "He is worse than a crook," said a quiet voice close behind them.Page 142
" Werper turned his head to hide a grin, whispering to Tarzan: "It was Greek to him all right--and to me, too.Page 144
The roaring of the lions rose in sudden fury until the earth trembled to the hideous chorus.Page 147
The white giant, one hand freed, had struggled to his knees and was calling to the frightful, nocturnal visitors in a hideous medley of bestial gutturals, barkings and growlings.