Tarzan Triumphant

'Let's kill him and get out of here,' suggested Stabutch. 'We can take the prisoners and as much of the equipment as you want and be a long way from here in the morning.'

'Geeze,' exclaimed Danny, 'this reminds me of Chi. It makes me homesick.'

'How much money you pay if we don't kill you?' asked Capietro. 'How much your friends pay?'

The 'Gunner' laughed. 'Say, mister, you're giving yourself a bum steer.' He was thinking how much more one might collect for killing him, if one could make connections with certain parties on the North Side of Chicago, than for sparing his life. But here was an opportunity, perhaps, to gain time. The 'Gunner' did not wish to be killed, and so he altered his technique. 'My friends ain't rich,' he said, 'but they might come across with a few grand. How much do you want?'

Capietro considered. This must be a rich American, for only rich men could afford these African big game expeditions. 'One hundred thousand should not be excessive for a rich man like you,' he said.

'Quit your kidding,' said the 'Gunner.' 'I ain't rich.'

'What could you raise?' asked Capietro, who saw by the prisoner's expression of astonishment that the original bid was evidently out of the question.

'I might scrape up twenty grand,' suggested Danny.

'What are grand?' demanded the Italian.

'Thousand—twenty thousand,' explained the 'Gunner.'

'Poof!' cried Capietro. 'That would not pay me for the trouble of keeping you until the money could be forwarded from America . Make it fifty thousand lire and it's a bargain.'

'Fifty thousand lire? What's them?'

'A lire is an Italian coin worth about twenty cents in American money,' explained Stabutch.

Danny achieved some rapid mental calculations before he replied; and when he had digested the result he had difficulty in repressing a smile, for he discovered that his offer of twenty thousand grand was actually twice what the Italian was now demanding. Yet he hesitated to agree too willingly. 'That's ten thousand iron men,' he said. 'That's a lot of jack.'

'Iron men? Jack? I do not understand,' said Capietro.

'Smackers,' explained Danny lucidly.

'Smackers? Is there such a coin in America ?' asked Capietro, turning to Stabutch.

'Doubtless a vernacularism,' said the Russian.

'Geeze, you guys is dumb,' growled the 'Gunner.' 'A smacker's a buck. Every one knows that.'

'Perhaps if you would tell him in dollars it would be easier,' suggested Stabutch. 'We all understand the value of an American dollar.'

'That's a lot more than some Americans understand,' Danny assured him; 'but it's just what I been saying right along—ten thousand dollars—and it's too damn much.'

'That is for you to decide,' said Capietro. 'I am tired of bargaining—nobody but an American would bargain over a human life.'

'What you been doing?' demanded the 'Gunner.' 'You're the guy that started it.'

Capietro shrugged. 'It is not my life,' he said. 'You will pay me ten thousand American dollars, or you will die. Take your choice.'

'Oke,' said Danny. 'I'll pay. Now do I eat? If you don't feed me I won't be worth nothing.'

'Tie his hands,' Capietro ordered one of the shiftas, then he fell to discussing plans with Stabutch. The Russian finally agreed with Capietro that the palisaded village of the raider would be the best place to defend themselves in the event that Tarzan enlisted aid and attacked them in force. One of their men had seen Lord Passmore's safari; and, even if their prisoner was lying to them, there was at least another white, probably well armed, who might be considered a definite menace. Ogonyo had told them that this man was alone and probably lost, but they did not know whether or not to believe the headman. If Tarzan commandeered these forces, which Capietro knew he had the influence to do, they might expect an attack upon their village.

By the light of several fires the blacks of the captured safari were compelled to break camp and, when the loads were packed, to carry them on the difficult night march toward Capietro's village. With mounted shiftas in advance, upon the flanks, and bringing up the rear there was no lagging and no chance to escape.

The 'Gunner,' plodding along at the head of his own porters, viewed the prospect of that night march with unmitigated disgust. He had traversed the route twice already since sunrise; and the thought of doing it again, in the dark, with his hands tied behind him was far from cheering. To add to his discomfort he was weak from hunger and fatigue, and now the pangs of thirst were assailing him.

'Geeze,' he soliloquized, 'this aint no way to treat a regular guy. When I took 'em for a ride I never made no guy walk, not even a rat. I'll get these lousy bums yet—a thinkin' they can put Danny Patrick on the spot, an' make him walk all the way!'

Chapter 14 Flight

As the choking cry broke from the lips of Abraham, the son of Abraham, Lady Barbara and Smith wheeled to see him fall, the knife clattering to the ground from his nerveless fingers. Smith was horrified, and the girl blenched, as they realized how close death had been. She saw Jobab and the others standing there, their evil faces contorted with rage.

'We must get away from here,' she said. 'They will be Upon us in a moment.'

'I'm afraid you'll have to help me support your friend,' said Smith. 'She cannot walk alone.'

'Put your left arm around her,' directed Lady Barbara. 'That will leave your right hand free for your pistol. I will support her on the other side.'

'Leave me,' begged Jezebel. 'I will only keep you from escaping.'

'Nonsense,' said Smith. 'Put your arm across my shoulders.'

'You will soon be able to walk,' Lady Barbara told her, 'when the blood gets back into your feet. Come! Let's get away from here while we can.'

Half carrying Jezebel, the two started to move toward the circle of menacing figures surrounding them. Jobab was the first to regain his wits since the Prophet had collapsed at the critical moment. 'Stop them!' he cried, as he prepared to block their way, at the same time drawing a knife from the folds of his filthy garment.

'One side, fellow!' commanded Smith, menacing Jobab with his pistol.

'The wrath of Jehovah will be upon you,' cried Lady Barbara in the Midian tongue, 'as it has been upon the others who would have harmed us, if you fail to let us pass in peace.'

'It is the work of Satan,' shrilled Timothy. 'Do not let them weaken your heart with lies, Jobab. Do not let them pass!' The elder was evidently under great mental and nervous strain. His voice shook as he spoke, and his muscles were trembling. Suddenly he, too, collapsed as had Abraham, the son of Abraham. But still Jobab stood his ground, his knife raised in a definite menace against them. All around them the circle was growing smaller and its circumference more solidly knit by the forward pressing bodies of the Midians.

'I hate to do it,' said Smith, half aloud, as he raised his pistol and aimed it at Jobab. The Apostle was directly in front of Lafayette Smith and little more than a yard distant when the American, aiming point blank at his chest, jerked the trigger and fired.

An expression of surprise mingled with that of rage which had convulsed the unbecoming features of Jobab the Apostle. Lafayette Smith was also surprised and for the same reason—he had missed Jobab. It was incredible —there must be something wrong with the pistol!

But Jobab's surprise, while based upon the same miracle, was of a loftier and nobler aspect. It was clothed in the sanctity of divine revelation. It emanated from a suddenly acquired conviction that he was immune to the fire and thunder of this strange weapon that he had seen lay Lamech low but a few minutes earlier. Verily, Jehovah was his shield and his buckler!

For a moment, as the shot rang out, Jobab paused and then, clothed in the fancied immunity of this sudden revelation, he leaped upon Lafayette Smith. The sudden and unexpected impact of his body knocked the pistol from Smith's hand and simultaneously the villagers closed in upon him. A real menace now that they had witnessed the