knew that when Kapopa rummaged in that bag it was always expensive. Finally the witch-doctor drew forth a little bundle wrapped in dirty cloth. Very carefully he untied the strings and spread the cloth upon the ground, revealing its contents, a few short twigs and a figurine carved from bone. Kapopa set the figurine in an upright position facing him, shook the twigs between his two palms, and cast them before the idol. He examined the position of the twigs carefully, scratched his head for a moment, then gathered them up, cast them again. Once more he studied the situation in silence. Presently he looked up.
'I now have a plan,' he announced.
'How much will it cost?' demanded Bobolo. 'Tell me that first.'
'You have a daughter,' said Kapopa.
'I have many of them,' rejoined Bobolo.
'I do not want them all.'
'You may have your choice if you will tell me how I may keep the white girl without Ubooga knowing it.'
'It can be done,' announced Kapopa. 'In the village of the little men there is no witch-doctor. For a long time they have been coming to Kapopa for their medicine. They will do whatever Kapopa asks.'
'I do not understand,' said Bobolo.
'The village of the little men is not far from the village of Bobolo. We shall take the white girl there. For a small payment of meal and a few fish at times they will keep her there for Bobolo until Ubooga dies. Some day she must die. Already she has lived far too long. In the meantime Bobolo can visit his wife in the village of the little men.'
'You can arrange this with the little men?'
'Yes. I shall go with you and the white girl, and I will arrange everything.'
'Good,' exclaimed Bobolo. 'We will start now; when we return you may go to the harem of Bobolo and select any of his daughters that you choose.'
Kapopa wrapped up the twigs and the idol and replaced them in his pouch; then he got his spear and shield. 'Fetch the white girl,' he said.
Chapter 14. The Return of Sobito
THE wavering light of the smoky torches illuminated the interior of the temple of the Leopard God, revealing the barbaric, savage drama being enacted there; but outside it was very dark, so dark that the figure of a man moving swiftly along the river bank might scarcely have been seen at a distance of fifty feet. He stepped quickly and silently among the canoes of the Leopard Men, pushing them out into the current of the stream. When all had been turned adrift save one, he dragged that up the river and partially beached it opposite the rear of the temple; then he ran toward the building, scaled one of the piles to the verandah, and a moment later paused upon the tiebeam just beneath the overhanging roof at the front of the building, where, through an opening, he could look down upon the tragic scene within.
He had been there a few moments before, just long enough to see and realize the precarious position of the white prisoner. Instantly his plan had been formed, and he had dropped swiftly to the river bank to put a part of it into immediate execution. Now that he was back he realized that a few seconds later he would have been too late. A sudden silence had fallen upon the chamber below. The priestesses of the Leopard God were sneaking stealthily toward their prostrate victim. No longer did the lesser priests make the purely histrionic pretense of protection. The end had come.
Through the aperture and into the interior of the temple swung Tarzan of the Apes. From tiebeam to tiebeam he leaped, silent as the smoke rising from the torches below. He saw that the priestesses were almost upon the white prisoner, that, swift as he was, he might not be able to reach the man's side in time. It was a bold, mad scheme that had formed in the active brain of the ape-man, and one that depended for success largely upon its boldness. Now it seemed that it was foredoomed to failure even before it could be put into execution.
The sudden silence, following the din of drums and yells and dancing feet, startled the tense nerves of the pinioned prisoner. He turned his eyes from side to side and saw the priestesses creeping toward him. Something told him that the final, hideous horror was upon him now. He steeled himself to meet the agony of it, lest his tormentors should have the added gratification of witnessing the visible effects of his suffering. Something inherent, something racial rebelled at the thought of showing fear or agony before these creatures of an inferior race.
The priestesses were almost upon him when a voice high above them broke the deathly silence. 'Sobito! Sobito! Sobito!' it boomed in hollow accents from the rafters of the temple. 'I am the muzimo of Orando, the friend of Nyamwegi. I have come for you. With The Spirit of Nyamwegi, I have come for you!'
Simultaneously a giant white man, naked but for a loin cloth, ran down one of the temple pillars like an agile monkey and leaped to the lower dais. The startling interruption momentarily paralyzed the natives, partially from astonishment and partially from fear. Sobito was speechless. His knees trembled beneath him; then, recovering himself, he fled screaming from the dais to the protection of the concourse of warriors on the temple floor.
Old Timer, no less astonished than the Negroes, looked with amazement upon the scene. He expected to see the strange white man pursue Sobito, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he turned directly toward the prisoner.
'Be ready to follow me,' commanded the stranger. 'I shall go out through the rear of the temple.' He spoke in low tones and in English; then, as swiftly, he changed to the dialect of the district. 'Capture Sobito and bring him to me,' he shouted to the warriors below the dais. 'Until you fetch him I shall hold this white man as hostage.'
Before there could be either reply or opposition, he leaped to the side of Old Timer, hurled the terrified priests from him, and seizing him by the hand jerked him to his feet. He spoke no further word but turned and ran swiftly across the lower dais, leaped to the higher one where Imigeg shrank aside as they passed, and disappeared from the sight of the Leopard Men through the doorway at its rear. There he paused for a moment and stopped Old Timer.
'Where is the white girl?' he demanded. 'We must take her with us.'
'She is not here,' replied old Timer; 'a chief stole her and, I imagine, took her down river to his village.'
'This way, then,' directed Tarzan, darting into a doorway on their left.
A moment later they were on the verandah, from which they gained the ground by way of one of the piles that supported the building; then the ape-man ran quickly toward the river, followed closely by Old Timer. At the edge of the river Tarzan stopped beside a canoe.
'Get into this,' he directed; 'it is the only one left here. They cannot follow you. When you reach the main river you will have such a start that they cannot overtake you.'
'Aren't you coming with me?'
'No,' he replied and started to shove the craft out into the stream. 'Do you know the name of the chief who stole the girl?' he asked.
'It was Bobolo.'
Tarzan pushed the canoe away from the bank.
'I can't thank you, old man,' said Old Timer; 'there just aren't the right words in the English language.'
The silent figure on the river bank made no reply, and a moment later, as the current caught the canoe, it was swallowed up in the darkness. Then Old Timer seized a paddle and sought to accelerate the speed of the craft, that he might escape as quickly as possible from this silent river of mystery and death.
The canoe had scarcely disappeared in the darkness when Tarzan of the Apes turned back toward the temple. Once again he scaled a pile to the verandah and reentered the rear of the building. He heard screaming and scuffing in the fore part of the temple, and a grim smile touched his lips as he recognized the origin of the sounds. Advancing quickly to the doorway that opened upon the upper dais he saw several warriors dragging the kicking, screaming Sobito toward him; then he stepped out upon the dais beside the Leopard God. Instantly all eyes were upon him, and fear was in every eye. The boldness of his entrance into their holly of holies, his affrontery, the ease with which he had taken their prisoner from them had impressed them, while the fact that Sobito, a witch-doctor, had fled from him in terror had assured them of his supernatural origin.
'Bind his hands and feet,' commanded Tarzan, 'and deliver him to me. The Spirit of Nyamwegi watches,
