ay, one dead, the other with only
empty eye-sockets where his red-rimmed eyes had been.

Bentley guessed that Apeman had gone at least a mile into the jungle,
heading directly away from the dwelling of Caleb Barter. He must get
free and pursue. There was nothing else he could do. If he were slain,
Ellen was doomed to a fate he dared not contemplate. Apeman would
never be accepted by the apes because to all outward seeming he was a
man. His body would never stand the hardship of the jungle, yet Apeman
would never guess that, and would be slain. Bentley must prevent
that.

He must make sure that Apeman's body at least remained sufficiently
healthy that it could become his own again without the necessity of a
long sojourn in some hospital. Ellen must not be left alone with
Apeman, who was still an ape, running away with a she.

A ghastly muddle.

* * * * *

Now the apes broke away from Bentley. They broke in all direction into
the jungle. Some of them seemed on the trail of Apeman. One of them
took to the trees, swinging himself along with the speed of a running
man, flying from limb to limb with no support save his hands.

Bentley stared after the fleeing ape, and then gave chase. He felt
that the ape was on the trail of Apeman. Bentley did not know that he
himself could follow the spoor of Apeman, for he had not yet analyzed
all of his new capabilities. But while he was discovering, he would
follow something he could see--the fleeing ape, who would overhaul
Apeman as though Apeman were standing still.

So, in a manner of speaking, Bentley essayed his wings.

He took to the trees after the fleeing ape, and was amazed that his
great arms worked with ease, that he swung from limb to limb as easily
and as surely as the other apes. He climbed to the upper terrace,
where view of the ground was entirely shut off. His eyes took note of
limbs capable of bearing his weight--after he had made one mistake
that might easily have proved costly. He had leaped to a limb that
would have supported Bentley of the _Bengal Queen_, but that was a
mere twig under the weight of Manape. It broke and he fell, clutching
for support; and fate was kind to him in that he found it, and so
clambered back and swung easily and swiftly along.

In his nostrils at intervals was a peculiar odor--a peculiarly human
odor, reminding him of the work-sweat of a man who seldom bathed. He
knew that for the odor of Apeman, a