to the jungle and learn what his errand might be. He
swung off rapidly in the direction taken by Clayton, and in a short
time heard faintly in the distance the now only occasional calls of the
Englishman to his friends.

Presently Tarzan came up with the white man, who, almost fagged, was
leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from his forehead. The
ape-man, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching this new
specimen of his own race intently.

At intervals Clayton called aloud and finally it came to Tarzan that he
was searching for the old man.

Tarzan was on the point of going off to look for them himself, when he
caught the yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the
jungle toward Clayton.

It was Sheeta, the leopard. Now, Tarzan heard the soft bending of
grasses and wondered why the young white man was not warned. Could it
be he had failed to note the loud warning? Never before had Tarzan
known Sheeta to be so clumsy.

No, the white man did not hear. Sheeta was crouching for the spring,
and then, shrill and horrible, there rose from the stillness of the
jungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and Sheeta turned,
crashing into the underbrush.

Clayton came to his feet with a start. His blood ran cold. Never in
all his life had so fearful a sound smote upon his ears. He was no
coward; but if ever man felt the icy fingers of fear upon his heart,
William Cecil Clayton, eldest son of Lord Greystoke of England, did
that day in the fastness of the African jungle.

The noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close
beside him, and the sound of that bloodcurdling shriek from above,
tested Clayton's courage to the limit; but he could not know that it
was to that very voice he owed his life, nor that the creature who
hurled it forth was his own cousin--the real Lord Greystoke.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Clayton, disheartened and
discouraged, was in a terrible quandary as to the proper course to
pursue; whether to keep on in search of Professor Porter, at the almost
certain risk of his own death in the jungle by night, or to return to
the cabin where he might at least serve to protect Jane from the perils
which confronted her on all sides.

He did not wish to return to camp without her father; still more, he
shrank from the thought of leaving her alone and unprotected in the
hands of the mutineers of the Arrow, or to the hundred unknown