discovered that she had not returned.
By that time it was late in the afternoon; but Wood insisted upon taking up the search at once, and van Eyk seconded the suggestion. They divided the safari into three sections. Van Eyk and Wood each heading one set out on slightly diverging trails in the general direction that Gonfala had taken in the morning, while the third, under a headman, was ordered to remain in camp, keeping a large fire burning and occasionally discharging a rifle to guide Gonfala if she should return toward camp without meeting either Wood or van Eyk. And all during the night Gonfala and her captors heard the faint report of rifles far to the south.
It was around noon of the following day that, exhausted and disheartened, Wood and van Eyk returned to camp.
'I'm afraid it's no use, old man,' said the latter, sympathetically; 'if she'd been alive she'd have heard our rifles and replied.'
'I can't believe that she's dead,' said Wood; 'I won't believe it!'
Van Eyk shook his head. 'I know it's tough, but you've got to face facts and reason. She couldn't be alive in this lion country now.'
'But she had two guns,' insisted Wood. 'You saw that she took the gun and ammunition from the gunbearer after he was killed. If she'd been attacked by a lion, she'd have fired at least once; and we never heard a shot.'
'She might have been taken unaware-stalked after dark and struck down before she knew a lion was near. You've seen 'em charge; you know it's all over in a second if you aren't ready for 'em.'
Wood nodded. 'Yes, I know. I suppose you're right, but I won't give up-not yet.'
'Well, Stan, I've got to get back home. If I thought there was the slightest chance I'd stay, but I know there's not. You'd better come along and try to forget it as soon as you can. You might never, here; but back home it'll be different.'
'There's no use, Van; you go along. I'm going to stay.'
'But what can you do alone?'
'I won't try to do anything alone. I'm going back and find Tarzan; he'll help me. If any one can find her or where she was killed it's he.'
Ten days later Wood plodded wearily into the camp that he had not left except in daily fruitless searches for his Gonfala. He had not gone back to enlist Tarzan's aid; but had, instead, sent a long letter to the ape-man by a runner. Every day for ten days he had combed the country for miles around, and each day he had become more convinced that Gonfala was not dead. He had found no trace of a human kill by lions, no shred of clothing, no sign of the two guns or the ammunition that Gonfala had had with her; though he had found plenty of lion kills-zebra, antelope, wildebeest. But he had found something else that gave support to his belief that Gonfala might be alive- the camp of Spike and Troll. It lay only a short distance north from his own camp. Gonfala must have pressed close to it the morning that she started out to hunt. What type of men had camped there, he could not know; but he assumed that they were natives; for there were no signs of white men-no empty tins, no discarded scrap of clothing, no indications that a tent had been pitched.
Perhaps, then, Gonfala's fate had been worse than the merciful death the king of beasts would have accorded her. That thought goaded him to desperation, and filled his mind with red imaginings of vengeance. Such were his thoughts as he threw himself upon his cot in hopeless bafflement to reproach himself as he had a thousand thousand times for having permitted Gonfala to hunt alone that day-how long ago it seemed, how many ages of bitter suffering!
A figure darkened the doorway of the tent, and Wood turned to look. Wood sprang to his feet. 'Tarzan! God, I thought you'd never come.'
'I came as soon as I got your letter. You have been searching, of course; what have you found?'
Wood told him of his failure to find any evidence that Gonfala had fallen prey to lions but that he had found a camp in which there had been men recently.
'That is interesting,' commented Tarzan. 'It is too late now to investigate that today; tomorrow I'll have a look at it.'
Early the next morning Wood and the ape-man were at the camp from which Spike and Troll had been attracted by the campfire that had led them to the discovery of the presence of Gonfala. Tarzan examined the ground and the surroundings minutely. His lifetime of experience, his trained powers of observation, his sensitive nostrils revealed facts that were a sealed book to the American. The charred wood in the dead fires, the crushed grass, the refuse each told him something.
'It was a poor camp,' he said finally. 'Perhaps ten or a dozen men camped here. They had very little food and their packs were few. They did have packs, and that indicates that there were white men-perhaps one, perhaps two; the rest were natives. Their food was poor. That would suggest that they had no firearms, for this is a good game country; so perhaps there were no white men at all. Yet I am sure there were. They had only the meat of an old boar to eat. Some of the bones were split and the marrow extracted. That suggests natives. Other bones were not split, and that suggests white men.'
'How do you know they had packs?' asked Wood, who could see no evidence to suggest anything more than that some one had been there and built fires and eaten food. He could see the discarded bones of their repast.
'If you look carefully you will see where they lay on the ground. It has been ten days at least; and the signs are faint, but they are there. The grasses are pressed down and the marks of the cords that bound the packs are still visible.'
'I see nothing,' admitted Wood after close scrutiny.
Tarzan smiled one of his rare smiles. 'Now we shall see which way they went,' he said. 'The spoor of so many men should be plain.'
They followed toward the north the freshest spoor that led from the camp, only to lose it where a great herd of grazing game had obliterated it; then Tarzan picked it up again beyond. Eventually it led to the spot where the bodies of the gunbearer and the lion had lain.
'Your theory seems to have been correct,' said the apeman. 'Gonfala, apparently, was captured by this party.'
'That was eleven days ago,' mused Wood despairingly. 'There is no telling where they are now, or what they have done to her. We must lose no time in following.'
'Not we,' replied Tarzan. 'You will return to your camp and start tomorrow for my place. When I have definitely located Gonfala, if I cannot rescue her without help' (Again he smiled) 'I'll send word by a runner, and you can come with an escort of Waziri.'
'But can't I go along with you?' demanded Wood.
'I can travel much faster alone. You will do as I say. That is all.'
And that was all. Wood stood watching the magnificent figure of the ape-man until it disappeared beyond a rise in the rolling plain; then he turned dejectedly back toward camp. He knew that Tarzan was right, that a man whose senses were dulled by generations of non-use would prove only a drag on the alert ape-man.
For two days Tarzan followed the trail in a northerly direction; then an unseasonable rain obliterated it forever. He was now in the country of the Bantangos, a warlike tribe of cannibals and hereditary enemies of his Waziri. He knew that if the captors of Gonfala had come this way it might be because they were themselves Bantangos, and so he determined to investigate thoroughly before searching farther. If they had not been Bantangos, it was very possible that they had been captured by this tribe; for he knew that they were a small and poorly equipped company.
In any event it seemed best to have a look into the village of the chief, to which, unquestionably, important captives would have been taken; but where the village lay, the apeman did not know. To the east of him a range of low hills stretched way into the north, and to these he made his way. As he ascended them he commenced to glimpse villages to the west and north, and finally from the summit of one of the higher hills he obtained a view of a considerable extent of country containing many villages. The majority of these were mean and small-just a handful of huts surrounded by flimsy palisades of poles.
The valley in which the villages lay was dotted with trees, and on the west abutted upon a forest. It was a scene of peace and loveliness that lent a certain picturesqueness to even the squalid kraals of the Bantangos and belied the savagery and bestiality of the inhabitants. The beauty of the aspect was not lost upon the ape-man, whose appreciation of the loveliness or grandeur of nature, undulled by familiarity, was one of the chief sources of
