Behind them Korak emerged from the jungle and recoveredhis spear from Numa's side. He still was smiling. He hadenjoyed the spectacle exceedingly. There was one thing thattroubled him--the agility with which the she had clamberedfrom her pony's back into the safety of the tree ABOVE her. That was more like mangani--more like his lost Meriem. He sighed.His lost Meriem! His little, dead Meriem! He wondered if thisshe stranger resembled his Meriem in other ways. A great longingto see her overwhelmed him. He looked after the three figuresmoving steadily across the plain. He wondered where might lietheir destination. A desire to follow them came over him, buthe only stood there watching until they had disappeared inthe distance. The sight of the civilized girl and the dapper,khaki clad Englishman had aroused in Korak memories long dormant.

Once he had dreamed of returning to the world of such asthese; but with the death of Meriem hope and ambition seemedto have deserted him. He cared now only to pass the remainderof his life in solitude, as far from man as possible. With asigh he turned slowly back into the jungle.

Tantor, nervous by nature, had been far from reassured byclose proximity to the three strange whites, and with the reportof Hanson's rifle had turned and ambled away at his long,swinging shuffle. He was nowhere in sight when Korak returnedto look for him. The ape-man, however, was little concerned bythe absence of his friend. Tantor had a habit of wanderingoff unexpectedly. For a month they might not see one another,for Korak seldom took the trouble to follow the great pachyderm,nor did he upon this occasion. Instead he found a comfortableperch in a large tree and was soon asleep.

At the bungalow Bwana had met the returning adventurers onthe verandah. In a moment of wakefulness he had heard thereport of Hanson's rifle far out across the plain, and wonderedwhat it might mean. Presently it had occurred to him that theman whom he considered in the light of a guest might have metwith an accident on his way back to camp, so he had arisen andgone to his foreman's quarters where he had learned that Hansonhad been there earlier in the evening but had departed severalhours before. Returning from the foreman's quarters Bwana hadnoticed that the corral gate was open and further investigationrevealed the fact that Meriem's pony was gone and also the onemost often used by Baynes. Instantly Bwana assumed that theshot had been fired by Hon. Morison, and had again arousedhis foreman and was making preparations to set forth ininvestigation when he had seen the party approaching acrossthe plain.

Explanation on the part of the Englishman met a rather chillyreception from his host. Meriem was silent. She saw that Bwanawas angry with her. It was the first time and she was heart broken.

"Go to your room, Meriem," he said; "and Baynes, if you will stepinto my study, I'd like to have a word with you in a moment."

He stepped toward Hanson as the others turned to obey him.There was something about Bwana even in his gentlest moodsthat commanded instant obedience.

"How did you happen to be with them, Hanson?" he asked.

"I'd been sitting in the garden," replied the trader, "afterleaving Jervis' quarters. I have a habit of doing that as yourlady probably knows. Tonight I fell asleep behind a bush, and wasawakened by them two spooning. I couldn't hear what they said,but presently Baynes brings two ponies and they ride off. I didn'tlike to interfere for it wasn't any of my business, but I knewthey hadn't ought to be ridin' about that time of night, leastwaysnot the girl--it wasn't right and it wasn't safe. So I follows themand it's just as well I did. Baynes was gettin' away from the lionas fast as he could, leavin' the girl to take care of herself, whenI got a lucky shot into the beast's shoulder that fixed him."

Hanson paused. Both men were silent for a time. Presently thetrader coughed in an embarrassed manner as though there wassomething on his mind he felt in duty bound to say, but hated to.

"What is it, Hanson?" asked Bwana. "You were about tosay something weren't you?"

"Well, you see it's like this," ventured Hanson. "Bein'around here evenings a good deal I've seen them two together alot, and, beggin' your pardon, sir, but I don't think Mr. Baynesmeans the girl any good. I've overheard enough to make methink he's tryin' to get her to run off with him." Hanson, to fithis own ends, hit nearer the truth than he knew. He was afraidthat Baynes would interfere with his own plans, and he had hitupon a scheme to both utilize the young Englishman and get ridof him at the same time.

"And I thought," continued the trader, "that inasmuch asI'm about due to move you might like to suggest to Mr. Baynesthat he go with me. I'd be willin' to take him north to thecaravan trails as a favor to you, sir."

Bwana stood in deep thought for a moment. Presently helooked up.

"Of course, Hanson, Mr. Baynes is my guest," he said, a grimtwinkle in his eye. "Really I cannot accuse him of planningto run away with Meriem on the evidence that we have, and ashe is my guest I should hate to be so discourteous as to ask himto leave; but, if I recall his words correctly, it seems to methat he has spoken of returning home, and I am sure that nothingwould delight him more than going north with you--you say youstart tomorrow? I think Mr. Baynes will accompany you. Drop overin the morning, if you please, and now good night, and thank youfor keeping a watchful eye on Meriem."

Hanson hid a grin as he turned and sought his saddle. Bwana steppedfrom the verandah to his study, where he found the Hon. Morisonpacing back and forth, evidently very ill at ease.

"Baynes," said Bwana, coming directly to the point, "Hanson isleaving for the north tomorrow. He has taken a great fancyto you, and just asked me to say to you that he'd be glad to haveyou accompany him. Good night, Baynes."

At Bwana's suggestion Meriem kept to her room the followingmorning until after the Hon. Morison Baynes had departed.Hanson had come for him early--in fact he had remained allnight with the foreman, Jervis, that they might get an early start.

The farewell exchanges between the Hon. Morison and hishost were of the most formal type, and when at last the guestrode away Bwana breathed a sigh of relief. It had been anunpleasant duty and he was glad that it was over; but he did notregret his action. He had not been blind to Baynes' infatuationfor Meriem, and knowing the young man's pride in caste he hadnever for a moment believed that his guest would offer his nameto this nameless Arab girl, for, extremely light in color thoughshe was for a full blood Arab, Bwana believed her to be such.

He did not mention the subject again to Meriem, and in thishe made a mistake, for the young girl, while realizing the debtof gratitude she owed Bwana and My Dear, was both proud andsensitive, so that Bwana's action in sending Baynes away andgiving her no opportunity to explain or defend hurt andmortified her. Also it did much toward making a martyr ofBaynes in her eyes and arousing in her breast a keen feelingof loyalty toward him.

What she had half-mistaken for love before, she now whollymistook for love. Bwana and My Dear might have told her muchof the social barriers that they only too well knew Baynes mustfeel existed between Meriem and himself, but they hesitated towound her. It would have been better had they inflicted thislesser sorrow, and saved the child the misery that was to followbecause of her ignorance.

As Hanson and Baynes rode toward the former's camp the Englishmanmaintained a morose silence. The other was attempting toformulate an opening that would lead naturally to the propositionhe had in mind. He rode a neck behind his companion, grinning ashe noted the sullen scowl upon the other's patrician face.

"Rather rough on you, wasn't he?" he ventured at last,jerking his head back in the direction of the bungalow as Baynesturned his eyes upon him at the remark. "He thinks a lot of thegirl," continued Hanson, "and don't want nobody to marry herand take her away; but it looks to me as though he was doin'her more harm than good in sendin' you away. She ought tomarry some time, and she couldn't do better than a fine younggentleman like you."

Baynes, who had at first felt inclined to take offense at themention of his private affairs by this common fellow, wasmollified by Hanson's final remark, and immediately commencedto see in him a man of fine discrimination.

"He's a darned bounder," grumbled the Hon. Morison; "butI'll get even with him. He may be the whole thing in CentralAfrica but I'm as big as he is in London, and he'll find it outwhen he comes home."

"If I was you," said Hanson, "I wouldn't let any man keep me fromgettin' the girl I want. Between you and me I ain't got no usefor him either, and if I can help you any way just call on me."

"It's mighty good of you, Hanson," replied Baynes, warming up abit; "but what can a fellow do here in this God-forsaken hole?"

"I know what I'd do," said Hanson. "I'd take the girl alongwith me. If she loves you she'll go, all right."

"It can't be done," said Baynes. "He bosses this wholeblooming country for miles around. He'd be sure to catch us."

"No, he wouldn't, not with me running things," said Hanson. "I've been trading and hunting here for ten years and I knowas much about the country as he does. If you want to takethe girl along I'll help you, and I'll guarantee that there won'tnobody catch up with us before we reach the coast. I'll tell youwhat, you write her a note and I'll get it to her by my head man.Ask her to meet you to say goodbye--she won't refuse that. In themeantime we can be movin' camp a little further north all thetime and you can make arrangements with her to be all readyon a certain night. Tell her I'll meet her then while you wait forus in camp. That'll be better for I know the country well andcan cover it quicker than you. You can take care of the safariand be movin' along slow toward the north and the girl and I'llcatch up to you."

"But suppose she won't come?" suggested Baynes.

"Then make another date for a last good-bye," said Hanson,"and instead of you I'll be there and I'll bring her along anyway.She'll have to come, and after it's all over she won't feel so badabout it--especially after livin' with you for two months whilewe're makin' the coast."

A shocked and angry protest rose to Baynes' lips; but he didnot utter it, for almost simultaneously came the realizationthat this was practically the same thing he had been planningupon himself. It had sounded brutal and criminal from the lipsof the rough trader; but nevertheless the young Englishman sawthat with Hanson's help and his knowledge of African travel thepossibilities of success would be much greater than as though theHon. Morison were to attempt the thing single handed. And sohe nodded a glum assent.

The balance of the long ride to Hanson's northerly camp wasmade in silence, for both men were occupied with their ownthoughts, most of which were far from being either complimentaryor loyal to the other. As they rode through the wood thesounds of their careless passage came to the ears of anotherjungle wayfarer. The Killer had determined to come back to theplace where he had seen the white girl who took to the treeswith the ability of long habitude. There was a compellingsomething in the recollection of her that drew him irresistiblytoward her. He wished to see her by the light of day, to see herfeatures, to see the color of her eyes and hair. It seemed to himthat she must bear a strong resemblance to his lost Meriem, andyet he knew that the chances were that she did not. The fleetingglimpse that he had had of her in the moonlight as she swung fromthe back of her plunging pony into the branches of the tree aboveher had shown him a girl of about the same height as his Meriem;but of a more rounded and developed femininity.

Now he was moving lazily back in the direction of the spotwhere he had seen the girl when the sounds of the approachinghorsemen came to his sharp ears. He moved stealthily throughthe branches until he came within sight of the riders. The youngerman he instantly recognized as the same he had seen with hisarms about the girl in the moonlit glade just the instant beforeNuma charged. The other he did not recognize though there wasa familiarity about his carriage and figure that puzzled Korak.

The ape-man decided that to find the girl again he would buthave to keep in touch with the young Englishman, and so he fellin behind the pair, following them to Hanson's camp. Here theHon. Morison penned a brief note, which Hanson gave into thekeeping of one of his boys who started off forthwith towardthe south.

Korak remained in the vicinity of the camp, keeping a carefulwatch upon the Englishman. He had half expected to find thegirl at the destination of the two riders and had beendisappointed when no sign of her materialized about the camp.

Baynes was restless, pacing back and forth beneath the treeswhen he should have been resting against the forced marches ofthe coming flight. Hanson lay in his hammock and smoked.They spoke but little. Korak lay stretched upon a branchamong the dense foliage above them. Thus passed the balanceof the afternoon. Korak became hungry and thirsty. He doubtedthat either of the men would leave camp now before morning, so hewithdrew, but toward the south, for there it seemed most likelythe girl still was.

In the garden beside the bungalow Meriem wandered thoughtfullyin the moonlight. She still smarted from Bwana's, to her,unjust treatment of the Hon. Morison Baynes. Nothing had beenexplained to her, for both Bwana and My Dear had wished tospare her the mortification and sorrow of the true explanationof Baynes' proposal. They knew, as Meriem did not, that theman had no intention of marrying her, else he would havecome directly to Bwana, knowing full well that no objectionwould be interposed if Meriem really cared for him.

Meriem loved them both and was grateful to them for all thatthey had done for her; but deep in her little heart surged thesavage love of liberty that her years of untrammeled freedom inthe jungle had made part and parcel of her being. Now, for thefirst time since she had come to them, Meriem felt like a prisonerin the bungalow of Bwana and My Dear.

Like a caged tigress the girl paced the length of the enclosure.Once she paused near the outer fence, her head upon oneside--listening. What was it she had heard? The pad of nakedhuman feet just beyond the garden. She listened for a moment. The sound was not repeated. Then she resumed her restless walking.Down to the opposite end of the garden she passed, turned andretraced her steps toward the upper end. Upon the sward nearthe bushes that hid the fence, full in the glare of the moonlight,lay a white envelope that had not been there when she had turnedalmost upon the very spot a moment before.

Meriem stopped short in her tracks, listening again, andsniffing--more than ever the tigress; alert, ready. Beyond thebushes a naked black runner squatted, peering through the foliage. He saw her take a step closer to the letter. She had seen it. He rose quietly and following the shadows of the bushes that randown to the corral was soon gone from sight.

Meriem's trained ears heard his every move. She made noattempt to seek closer knowledge of his identity. Already shehad guessed that he was a messenger from the Hon. Morison.She stooped and picked up the envelope. Tearing it open sheeasily read the contents by the moon's brilliant light. It was, asshe had guessed, from Baynes.

"I cannot go without seeing you again," it read. "Come tothe clearing early tomorrow morning and say good-bye to me.Come alone."

There was a little more--words that made her heart beat fasterand a happy flush mount her cheek.