The Son of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 214

scowl; but he waited to hear Meriem's story before
giving vent to the long anger in his breast. When she had finished he
seemed to have forgotten Baynes. His thoughts were occupied with
another subject.

"You say that you found Korak?" he asked. "You really saw him?"

"Yes," replied Meriem; "as plainly as I see you, and I want you to come
with me, Bwana, and help me find him again."

"Did you see him?" He turned toward the Hon. Morison.

"Yes, sir," replied Baynes; "very plainly."

"What sort of appearing man is he?" continued Bwana. "About how old,
should you say?"

"I should say he was an Englishman, about my own age," replied Baynes;
"though he might be older. He is remarkably muscled, and exceedingly
tanned."

"His eyes and hair, did you notice them?" Bwana spoke rapidly, almost
excitedly. It was Meriem who answered him.

"Korak's hair is black and his eyes are gray," she said.

Bwana turned to his headman.

"Take Miss Meriem and Mr. Baynes home," he said. "I am going into the
jungle."

"Let me go with you, Bwana," cried Meriem. "You are going to search
for Korak. Let me go, too."

Bwana turned sadly but firmly upon the girl.

"Your place," he said, "is beside the man you love."

Then he motioned to his head-man to take his horse and commence the
return journey to the farm. Meriem slowly mounted the tired Arab that
had brought her from the village of The Sheik. A litter was rigged for
the now feverish Baynes, and the little cavalcade was soon slowly
winding off along the river trail.

Bwana stood watching them until they were out of sight. Not once had
Meriem turned her eyes backward. She rode with bowed head and drooping
shoulders. Bwana sighed. He loved the little Arab girl as he might
have loved an own daughter. He realized that Baynes had redeemed
himself, and so he could interpose no objections now if Meriem really
loved the man; but, somehow, some way, Bwana could not convince himself
that the Hon. Morison was worthy of his little Meriem. Slowly he
turned toward a nearby tree. Leaping upward he caught a lower branch
and drew himself up among the branches. His movements were cat-like
and agile. High into the trees he made his way and there commenced to
divest himself of his clothing. From the game bag slung across one
shoulder he drew a long strip of doe-skin, a neatly coiled rope, and a
wicked looking

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