were thrown into a fine rage at this
unprecedented occurrence. They ran for the gates, to wreak dire
vengeance upon the foolhardy perpetrator of the outrage; but they
suddenly realized that they did not know which way to turn to find the
foe. As they stood debating with many angry shouts and much
gesticulating, one of the Arabs sank silently to the ground in their
very midst--a thin arrow protruding from his heart.

Tarzan had placed the finest marksmen of the tribe in the surrounding
trees, with directions never to reveal themselves while the enemy was
faced in their direction. As a black released his messenger of death
he would slink behind the sheltering stem of the tree he had selected,
nor would he again aim until a watchful eye told him that none was
looking toward his tree.

Three times the Arabs started across the clearing in the direction from
which they thought the arrows came, but each time another arrow would
come from behind to take its toll from among their number. Then they
would turn and charge in a new direction. Finally they set out upon a
determined search of the forest, but the blacks melted before them, so
that they saw no sign of an enemy.

But above them lurked a grim figure in the dense foliage of the mighty
trees--it was Tarzan of the Apes, hovering over them as if he had been
the shadow of death. Presently a Manyuema forged ahead of his
companions; there was none to see from what direction death came, and
so it came quickly, and a moment later those behind stumbled over the
dead body of their comrade--the inevitable arrow piercing the still
heart.

It does not take a great deal of this manner of warfare to get upon the
nerves of white men, and so it is little to be wondered at that the
Manyuema were soon panic-stricken. Did one forge ahead an arrow found
his heart; did one lag behind he never again was seen alive; did one
stumble to one side, even for a bare moment from the sight of his
fellows, he did not return--and always when they came upon the bodies
of their dead they found those terrible arrows driven with the accuracy
of superhuman power straight through the victim's heart. But worse
than all else was the hideous fact that not once during the morning had
they seen or heard the slightest sign of an enemy other than the
pitiless arrows.

When finally they returned to the village it was no better. Every now
and then, at varying intervals that were maddening in the terrible