"I am Tarzan," replied the ape-man.

Now the black trembled violently. "Do not harm me, Bwana Tarzan," he begged, "and I will do anything that you wish."

Tarzan did not reply, but led the man on into the forest in silence.

He stopped just beyond the edge of the clearing and took his captive into a tree from which point of vantage he could see if any pursuit developed.

"Now," he said, when he had settled himself comfortably upon a limb, "I shall ask you some questions. When you answer, speak true words if you would live."

"Yes, Bwana Tarzan," replied the black, "I will speak only true words."

"Why did the warriors of your village attack me today and try to kill me?"

"The drums told us to kill you because you were coming to steal our women and our children."

"Your people have known Tarzan far a long time," said the ape-man. "They know that he does not steal women or children."

"But they say that Tarzan's heart has gone bad and that now he does steal women and children. The Waruturi have seen him taking women to his village, which lies beyond the thorn forest that grows along the little hills at the foot of the Ruturi Mountains."

"You take the word of the Waruturi?" demanded Tarzan. "They are bad people. They are cannibals and liars, as all men know."

"Yes, Bwana, all men know that the Waruturi are cannibals and liars; but three men of my own village saw you, Bwana, less than a moon ago when you went through our country leading a white girl with a rope about her neck."

"You are not speaking true words, now," said Tarzan. "I have not been in your country for many moons."

"I am not saying that I saw you, Bwana," replied the black. "I am only repeating what the three men said they saw."

"Go back to your village," said the ape-man, "and tell your people that it was not Tarzan whom the three warriors saw, but some man with a bad heart whom Tarzan is going to find and kill so that your women and children need fear no longer."

Now Tarzan had a definite goal, and the following morning he set out in the direction of the Ruturi Mountains, still mystified by the origin of these reports of his atrocities but determined to solve the enigma and bring the guilty one to justice.

Shortly after noon, Tarzan caught the scent spoor of a native approaching him along the trail. He knew that there was only one man, and so he made no effort to conceal himself. Presently he came face to face with a sleek, ebony warrior. The fellow's eyes dilated in consternation as he recognized the ape-man, and simultaneously he hurled his spear at Tarzan and turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

Tarzan had recognized the black as the son of a friendly chief; and the incident, coupled with the recent experiences, seemed to indicate that every man's hand was against him, even those of his friends.

He was quite certain now that someone was impersonating him; and, as he must find this man, he might not overlook a single clue; therefore he pursued the warrior and presently dropped upon his shoulders from the foliage above the trail.

The warrior struggled, but quite hopelessly, in the grip of the ape-man. "Why would you have killed me?" demanded Tarzan. "I, who have been your friend!"

"The drums," said the warrior; and then he told much the same story that the black sentry had told Tarzan the previous night.

"And what else did the drums tell you?" demanded the apeman.

"They told us that four white men with a great safari are searching for you and the white girl that you stole."

So that was why Crump had shot at him. It explained also the other man's question: "Where is Miss Pickerall?"

"Tell your people," said Tarzan to the black warrior, "that it was not Tarzan who stole their women and children, that it was not Tarzan who stole the white girl. It is someone with a bad heart who has stolen Tarzan's name."

"A demon, perhaps," suggested the warrior.

"Man or demon, Tarzan will find him," said the ape-mane "If the whites come this way, tell them what I have said."

Chapter FOUR..Captured

THE GLOOM OF THE FOREST lay heavy upon Sandra Pickerall, blinding her to the beauties of the orchids, the delicate tracery of the ferns, the graceful loops of the giant lianas festooned from tree to tree. She was aware only that it was sinister, mysterious, horrible.

At first she had been afraid of the man leading her like a dumb beast to slaughter with a rope about her neck; but as the days passed and he had offered her no harm her fear of him lessened. He was an enigma to her. For all the weary days that they had tramped through the interminable forest, he had scarcely spoken a word.