s, to the ground, Jane
Clayton threw herself into the eager arms of her husband. For a brief
instant he strained her dear form to his breast, and then a glance
about him awakened the ape-man to the dangers which still surrounded
them.

Upon every hand the lions were still leaping upon new victims.
Fear-maddened horses still menaced them with their erratic bolting from
one side of the enclosure to the other. Bullets from the guns of the
defenders who remained alive but added to the perils of their situation.

To remain was to court death. Tarzan seized Jane Clayton and lifted
her to a broad shoulder. The blacks who had witnessed his advent
looked on in amazement as they saw the naked giant leap easily into the
branches of the tree from whence he had dropped so uncannily upon the
scene, and vanish as he had come, bearing away their prisoner with him.

They were too well occupied in self-defense to attempt to halt him, nor
could they have done so other than by the wasting of a precious bullet
which might be needed the next instant to turn the charge of a savage
foe.

And so, unmolested, Tarzan passed from the camp of the Abyssinians,
from which the din of conflict followed him deep into the jungle until
distance gradually obliterated it entirely.

Back to the spot where he had left Werper went the ape-man, joy in his
heart now, where fear and sorrow had so recently reigned; and in his
mind a determination to forgive the Belgian and aid him in making good
his escape. But when he came to the place, Werper was gone, and though
Tarzan called aloud many times he received no reply. Convinced that
the man had purposely eluded him for reasons of his own, John Clayton
felt that he was under no obligations to expose his wife to further
danger and discomfort in the prosecution of a more thorough search for
the missing Belgian.

"He has acknowledged his guilt by his flight, Jane," he said. "We will
let him go to lie in the bed that he has made for himself."

Straight as homing pigeons, the two made their way toward the ruin and
desolation that had once been the center of their happy lives, and
which was soon to be restored by the willing black hands of laughing
laborers, made happy again by the return of the master and mistress
whom they had mourned as dead.

Past the village of Achmet Zek their way led them, and there they found
but the charred remains of the palisade and the native huts, still
smoking, as mute evide