Bentley knew of
course what a fearful racket his own appearance would cause when he
strode out of the gloom among the blacks, seeking Ellen. But he knew
that surprise for a few precious moments would render the blacks
incapable of stopping him until he got away. At least he hoped so.

Beyond that he had no other plan. All depended upon the behavior of
the apes and the reaction of the blacks who were holding a devil's
dance about the mighty fire in the center of their village. Bentley
did not even yet dare guess what the apes would do when they saw what
Manape-Bentley did. Would they follow him? Or would they race for the
jungle to escape?

A few minutes now would tell the tale. He had released the last of the
great apes, who now lined the side of the stockade, apparently holding
angry converse with Apeman. Bentley was reminded of the old fashioned
mob of pioneer days--angrily muttering yet lacking a leader to direct
their efforts. Well, he had done his duty as he saw it. From now on
things must take their course.

But Bentley waited, watching the dancing figures about the fire. As
far as he could tell the dance was approaching some sort of a climax.
The figures leaped higher as they danced, and the noise of their
shouting raced and rolled across the jungle. They appeared to be drunk
with some sort of excitement, perhaps helped by native liquor, perhaps
because of superstitious frenzy.

If he waited for their excitement to die down a bit, for some of them
to go to sleep, his chances of releasing Ellen would be better. It
would not be hard for him to find her--not with Manape's sensitive
nose to lead him to her.

* * * * *

But time passed and the apes, though apparently being urged to
something by Apeman, watching Manape sullenly, apparently waiting for
him to make some move.

Then, sharp as a knife, cutting through the other noises of the
village, came Ellen's voice.

"Help, Lee! Help me!"

The scream was broken short off as though a hand had clutched the
girl's throat, but Bentley waited for no more--and Manape-Bentley flew
into action. His great hands went to the uprights of the stockade.
His mighty shoulders heaved and twisted and the uprights were ripped
apart.

The apes followed his lead, and the cracking of the stockade's
uprights was like a volley of pistol shots. The great brutes fairly
walked through the green saplings which formed the prison. Manape was
leading the