The Son of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 158

vicinity of the camp, keeping a careful watch
upon the Englishman. He had half expected to find the girl at the
destination of the two riders and had been disappointed when no sign of
her materialized about the camp.

Baynes was restless, pacing back and forth beneath the trees when he
should have been resting against the forced marches of the coming
flight. Hanson lay in his hammock and smoked. They spoke but little.
Korak lay stretched upon a branch among the dense foliage above them.
Thus passed the balance of the afternoon. Korak became hungry and
thirsty. He doubted that either of the men would leave camp now before
morning, so he withdrew, but toward the south, for there it seemed most
likely the girl still was.

In the garden beside the bungalow Meriem wandered thoughtfully in the
moonlight. She still smarted from Bwana's, to her, unjust treatment of
the Hon. Morison Baynes. Nothing had been explained to her, for both
Bwana and My Dear had wished to spare her the mortification and sorrow
of the true explanation of Baynes' proposal. They knew, as Meriem did
not, that the man had no intention of marrying her, else he would have
come directly to Bwana, knowing full well that no objection would be
interposed if Meriem really cared for him.

Meriem loved them both and was grateful to them for all that they had
done for her; but deep in her little heart surged the savage love of
liberty that her years of untrammeled freedom in the jungle had made
part and parcel of her being. Now, for the first time since she had
come to them, Meriem felt like a prisoner in the bungalow of Bwana and
My Dear.

Like a caged tigress the girl paced the length of the enclosure. Once
she paused near the outer fence, her head upon one side--listening.
What was it she had heard? The pad of naked human feet just beyond the
garden. She listened for a moment. The sound was not repeated. Then
she resumed her restless walking. Down to the opposite end of the
garden she passed, turned and retraced her steps toward the upper end.
Upon the sward near the bushes that hid the fence, full in the glare of
the moonlight, lay a white envelope that had not been there when she
had turned almost upon the very spot a moment before.

Meriem stopped short in her tracks, listening again, and sniffing--more
than ever the tigress; alert, ready. Beyond

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