"He's deader'n a smelt right now."

"He doesn't look very dead to me," said Lavac, as Tarzan and Magra came into view.

"I'm afraid I was so out of breath that I didn't--well, thank is a most inadequate word under the circumstance; but I can't think of another--thank you for saving my life. How silly and banal that sounds, but you know what I'm trying to say. You were wonderful, and a little terrifying, too; but I know now that you are not Brian Gregory. He could not have killed the lion as you did. No other man in the world could have done it."

She paused. "Until a few minutes ago, I thought that I loved Brian."

The implication of Magra's words and tone was quite apparent, yet Tarzan elected to ignore it. "We shall do our best to find him," he said, "not only on Mr. Gregory's account but on yours."

Magra shrugged. She was rebuffed, but she could bide her time. "And the diamond?" she asked.

"I'm not interested in that," said Tarzan.

A well equipped safari moved toward the northeast ten marches out of Bonga. A girl and two men were the only whites, but the porters seemed to be carrying enough equipment and provisions for two or three times that number.

"Rather clever of me," said one of the men to the girl, "taking your father's safari. It will take him a week or longer to get another one together and equip it. By that tune we'll be so far ahead that he'll never overtake us. I should like to see his face when he reaches Bonga and learns the truth."

"You are about as clever as the late Mr. Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson," replied Helen, "and you'll end up the same way."

"Who were they?" demanded Thome.

"They were kidnapers and murderers who were also addicted to grand larceny. If you were not a fool, you'd turn me loose and send me back to Bonga. You have the map. I can be of no further use to you. Until I am returned safely to him, my father will never give up until he finds you. I can't see why you want to hold me any longer."

"Perhaps I have taken a liking to you, my dear," replied Thome.

The girl shuddered at the implication of the man's words. All the rest of the day she plodded on in silence waiting always for a chance to escape, but either Atan Thome or Lal Taask was always at her side. She was spent and weary when they finally made camp, but much of her weariness was from nervous exhaustion--all day long the words of Atan Thome had preyed upon her mind.

After the evening meal, she went to her tent, which had been pitched across the camp from that occupied by Thome, for the man knew that while she might attempt to escape by day, she would not dare to venture the dangers of the forest by night.

Thome and Taask stood talking before the former's tent, Thorne's eyes upon the girl entering hers. The two men had been talking, and Lal Taask was watching the other intently.

"You are my master, Atan Thome," he said; "but out of loyalty, your servant must warn you. The girl is white, and the arm of the white man's power is long. Into the depth of the jungle or to the frozen wastes of the poles it would reach and drag you back to an accounting."

"Mind your own affairs," snapped Thome. "I mean the girl no harm."

"I am glad to hear you say that. I do not want the white man's anger upon me. If you are wise you will do as the girl suggested. Send her back to Bonga tomorrow."

Atan Thome thought a moment; then he nodded. "Perhaps you are right," he said.