agged him to
the open space in the center of the village, where a high stake was set
in the ground. It had not been intended for burnings, but offered a
convenient place to tie up refractory slaves that they might be
beaten--ofttimes until death relieved their agonies.

To this stake they bound Korak. Then they brought brush and piled
about him, and The Sheik came and stood by that he might watch the
agonies of his victim. But Korak did not wince even after they had
fetched a brand and the flames had shot up among the dry tinder.

Once, then, he raised his voice in the low call that he had given in
The Sheik's tent, and now, from beyond the palisade, came again the
trumpeting of an elephant.

Old Tantor had been pushing at the palisade in vain. The sound of
Korak's voice calling him, and the scent of man, his enemy, filled the
great beast with rage and resentment against the dumb barrier that held
him back. He wheeled and shuffled back a dozen paces, then he turned,
lifted his trunk and gave voice to a mighty roaring, trumpet-call of
anger, lowered his head and charged like a huge battering ram of flesh
and bone and muscle straight for the mighty barrier.

The palisade sagged and splintered to the impact, and through the
breach rushed the infuriated bull. Korak heard the sounds that the
others heard, and he interpreted them as the others did not. The
flames were creeping closer to him when one of the blacks, hearing a
noise behind him turned to see the enormous bulk of Tantor lumbering
toward them. The man screamed and fled, and then the bull elephant was
among them tossing Negroes and Arabs to right and left as he tore
through the flames he feared to the side of the comrade he loved.

The Sheik, calling orders to his followers, ran to his tent to get his
rifle. Tantor wrapped his trunk about the body of Korak and the stake
to which it was bound, and tore it from the ground. The flames were
searing his sensitive hide--sensitive for all its thickness--so that in
his frenzy to both rescue his friend and escape the hated fire he had
all but crushed the life from the ape-man.

Lifting his burden high above his head the giant beast wheeled and
raced for the breach that he had just made in the palisade. The Sheik,
rifle in hand, rushed from his tent directly into the path of the
maddened brute. He raised his weapon and fired once, the bullet missed
its mark, and Tantor was upon him, crushing him beneath thos