It was still dark when the Hon. Morison Baynes set forth forthe trysting place. He insisted upon having a guide, sayingthat he was not sure that he could find his way back to thelittle clearing. As a matter of fact the thought of that lonelyride through the darkness before the sun rose had been too muchfor his courage, and he craved company. A black, therefore,preceded him on foot. Behind and above him came Korak, whomthe noise in the camp had awakened.

It was nine o'clock before Baynes drew rein in the clearing.Meriem had not yet arrived. The black lay down to rest. Baynes lolled in his saddle. Korak stretched himself comfortablyupon a lofty limb, where he could watch those beneath him withoutbeing seen.

An hour passed. Baynes gave evidence of nervousness. Korak hadalready guessed that the young Englishman had come here to meetanother, nor was he at all in doubt as to the identity ofthat other. The Killer was perfectly satisfied that he was soonagain to see the nimble she who had so forcefully reminded himof Meriem.

Presently the sound of an approaching horse came to Korak's ears. She was coming! She had almost reached the clearing beforeBaynes became aware of her presence, and then as he looked up,the foliage parted to the head and shoulders of her mount andMeriem rode into view. Baynes spurred to meet her. Korak lookedsearchingly down upon her, mentally anathematizing the broad-brimmedhat that hid her features from his eyes. She was abreast theEnglishman now. Korak saw the man take both her hands and drawher close to his breast. He saw the man's face concealed for amoment beneath the same broad brim that hid the girl's. He couldimagine their lips meeting, and a twinge of sorrow and sweetrecollection combined to close his eyes for an instant in thatinvoluntary muscular act with which we attempt to shut out fromthe mind's eye harrowing reflections.

When he looked again they had drawn apart and wereconversing earnestly. Korak could see the man urging something.It was equally evident that the girl was holding back. There weremany of her gestures, and the way in which she tossed her headup and to the right, tip-tilting her chin, that reminded Korakstill more strongly of Meriem. And then the conversation wasover and the man took the girl in his arms again to kiss hergood-bye. She turned and rode toward the point from which shehad come. The man sat on his horse watching her. At the edge ofthe jungle she turned to wave him a final farewell.

"Tonight!" she cried, throwing back her head as she calledthe words to him across the little distance which separatedthem--throwing back her head and revealing her face for thefirst time to the eyes of The Killer in the tree above. Korak started as though pierced through the heart with an arrow. He trembled and shook like a leaf. He closed his eyes, pressinghis palms across them, and then he opened them again and lookedbut the girl was gone--only the waving foliage of the jungle'srim marked where she had disappeared. It was impossible! It couldnot be true! And yet, with his own eyes he had seen his Meriem--older a little, with figure more rounded by nearer maturity, andsubtly changed in other ways; more beautiful than ever, yet stillhis little Meriem. Yes, he had seen the dead alive again;he had seen his Meriem in the flesh. She lived! She had not died! He had seen her--he had seen his Meriem--IN THE ARMS OF ANOTHER MAN!And that man sat below him now, within easy reach. Korak, The Killer,fondled his heavy spear. He played with the grass rope danglingfrom his gee-string. He stroked the hunting knife at his hip.And the man beneath him called to his drowsy guide,bent the rein to his pony's neck and moved off toward the north.Still sat Korak, The Killer, alone among the trees.Now his hands hung idly at his sides. His weaponsand what he had intended were forgotten for the moment. Korak was thinking. He had noted that subtle change in Meriem. When last he had seen her she had been his little, half-nakedMangani--wild, savage, and uncouth. She had not seemed uncouthto him then; but now, in the change that had come over her,he knew that such she had been; yet no more uncouth than he,and he was still uncouth.

In her had taken place the change. In her he had just seen asweet and lovely flower of refinement and civilization, and heshuddered as he recalled the fate that he himself had planned forher--to be the mate of an ape-man, his mate, in the savage jungle. Then he had seen no wrong in it, for he had loved her, and theway he had planned had been the way of the jungle which they twohad chosen as their home; but now, after having seen the Meriemof civilized attire, he realized the hideousness of his oncecherished plan, and he thanked God that chance and the blacks ofKovudoo had thwarted him.

Yet he still loved her, and jealousy seared his soul ashe recalled the sight of her in the arms of the dapperyoung Englishman. What were his intentions toward her? Did he really love her? How could one not love her? And sheloved him, of that Korak had had ample proof. Had she notloved him she would not have accepted his kisses. His Meriemloved another! For a long time he let that awful truth sink deep,and from it he tried to reason out his future plan of action. In his heart was a great desire to follow the man and slay him;but ever there rose in his consciousness the thought: She loves him. Could he slay the creature Meriem loved? Sadly he shook his head. No, he could not. Then came a partial decision to follow Meriemand speak with her. He half started, and then glanced down at hisnakedness and was ashamed. He, the son of a British peer, had thusthrown away his life, had thus degraded himself to the level ofa beast that he was ashamed to go to the woman he loved andlay his love at her feet. He was ashamed to go to the little Arabmaid who had been his jungle playmate, for what had he to offer her?

For years circumstances had prevented a return to his fatherand mother, and at last pride had stepped in and expunged fromhis mind the last vestige of any intention to return. In aspirit of boyish adventure he had cast his lot with the jungle ape. The killing of the crook in the coast inn had filled his childishmind with terror of the law, and driven him deeper into the wilds. The rebuffs that he had met at the hands of men, both black andwhite, had had their effect upon his mind while yet it was in aformative state, and easily influenced.

He had come to believe that the hand of man was against him,and then he had found in Meriem the only human associationhe required or craved. When she had been snatched from himhis sorrow had been so deep that the thought of ever minglingagain with human beings grew still more unutterably distasteful.Finally and for all time, he thought, the die was cast. Of hisown volition he had become a beast, a beast he had lived, abeast he would die.

Now that it was too late, he regretted it. For now Meriem,still living, had been revealed to him in a guise of progress andadvancement that had carried her completely out of his life.Death itself could not have further removed her from him. In her new world she loved a man of her own kind. And Korakknew that it was right. She was not for him--not for the naked,savage ape. No, she was not for him; but he still was hers. If hecould not have her and happiness, he would at least do all thatlay in his power to assure happiness to her. He would follow theyoung Englishman. In the first place he would know that hemeant Meriem no harm, and after that, though jealouslywrenched his heart, he would watch over the man Meriem loved, forMeriem's sake; but God help that man if he thought to wrong her!

Slowly he aroused himself. He stood erect and stretched hisgreat frame, the muscles of his arms gliding sinuously beneathhis tanned skin as he bent his clenched fists behind his head. A movement on the ground beneath caught his eye. An antelopewas entering the clearing. Immediately Korak became awarethat he was empty--again he was a beast. For a moment lovehad lifted him to sublime heights of honor and renunciation.

The antelope was crossing the clearing. Korak dropped to theground upon the opposite side of the tree, and so lightly that noteven the sensitive ears of the antelope apprehended his presence.He uncoiled his grass rope--it was the latest addition to hisarmament, yet he was proficient with it. Often he traveled withnothing more than his knife and his rope--they were light and easyto carry. His spear and bow and arrows were cumbersome and heusually kept one or all of them hidden away in a private cache.

Now he held a single coil of the long rope in his right hand,and the balance in his left. The antelope was but a few pacesfrom him. Silently Korak leaped from his hiding place swingingthe rope free from the entangling shrubbery. The antelope sprangaway almost instantly; but instantly, too, the coiled rope, withits sliding noose, flew through the air above him. With unerringprecision it settled about the creature's neck. There was a quickwrist movement of the thrower, the noose tightened. The Killerbraced himself with the rope across his hip, and as the antelopetautened the singing strands in a last frantic bound for libertyhe was thrown over upon his back.

Then, instead of approaching the fallen animal as a roper of thewestern plains might do, Korak dragged his captive to himself,pulling him in hand over hand, and when he was within reachleaping upon him even as Sheeta the panther might have done,and burying his teeth in the animal's neck while he found itsheart with the point of his hunting knife. Recoiling his rope,he cut a few generous strips from his kill and took to the treesagain, where he ate in peace. Later he swung off in the directionof a nearby water hole, and then he slept.

In his mind, of course, was the suggestion of another meetingbetween Meriem and the young Englishman that had been borneto him by the girl's parting: "Tonight!"

He had not followed Meriem because he knew from the directionfrom which she had come and in which she returned thatwheresoever she had found an asylum it lay out across the plainsand not wishing to be discovered by the girl he had not cared toventure into the open after her. It would do as well to keep intouch with the young man, and that was precisely what he intended doing.

To you or me the possibility of locating the Hon. Morison inthe jungle after having permitted him to get such a considerablestart might have seemed remote; but to Korak it was not at all so. He guessed that the white man would return to his camp;but should he have done otherwise it would be a simple matterto The Killer to trail a mounted man accompanied by anotheron foot. Days might pass and still such a spoor would besufficiently plain to lead Korak unfalteringly to its end;while a matter of a few hours only left it as clear to him asthough the makers themselves were still in plain sight.

And so it came that a few minutes after the Hon. MorisonBaynes entered the camp to be greeted by Hanson, Korak slippednoiselessly into a near-by tree. There he lay until late afternoonand still the young Englishman made no move to leave camp.Korak wondered if Meriem were coming there. A little laterHanson and one of his black boys rode out of camp. Korak merelynoted the fact. He was not particularly interested in whatany other member of the company than the young Englishman did.

Darkness came and still the young man remained. He ate his eveningmeal, afterward smoking numerous cigarettes. Presently he beganto pace back and forth before his tent. He kept his boy busyreplenishing the fire. A lion coughed and he went into his tentto reappear with an express rifle. Again he admonished the boy tothrow more brush upon the fire. Korak saw that he was nervousand afraid, and his lip curled in a sneer of contempt.

Was this the creature who had supplanted him in the heart ofhis Meriem? Was this a man, who trembled when Numa coughed? How could such as he protect Meriem from the countless dangersof the jungle? Ah, but he would not have to. They would livein the safety of European civilization, where men in uniformswere hired to protect them. What need had a European ofprowess to protect his mate? Again the sneer curled Korak's lip.

Hanson and his boy had ridden directly to the clearing. It wasalready dark when they arrived. Leaving the boy there Hanson rodeto the edge of the plain, leading the boy's horse. There he waited. It was nine o'clock before he saw a solitary figure gallopingtoward him from the direction of the bungalow. A few momentslater Meriem drew in her mount beside him. She was nervousand flushed. When she recognized Hanson she drew back, startled.

"Mr. Baynes' horse fell on him and sprained his ankle,"Hanson hastened to explain. "He couldn't very well come so hesent me to meet you and bring you to camp."

The girl could not see in the darkness the gloating, triumphantexpression on the speaker's face.

"We had better hurry," continued Hanson, "for we'll haveto move along pretty fast if we don't want to be overtaken."

"Is he hurt badly?" asked Meriem.

"Only a little sprain," replied Hanson. "He can ride all right;but we both thought he'd better lie up tonight, and rest, for he'llhave plenty hard riding in the next few weeks."

"Yes," agreed the girl.

Hanson swung his pony about and Meriem followed him. They rodenorth along the edge of the jungle for a mile and then turnedstraight into it toward the west. Meriem, following, payedlittle attention to directions. She did not know exactly whereHanson's camp lay and so she did not guess that he was notleading her toward it. All night they rode, straight towardthe west. When morning came, Hanson permitted a short halt forbreakfast, which he had provided in well-filled saddle bags beforeleaving his camp. Then they pushed on again, nor did theyhalt a second time until in the heat of the day he stopped andmotioned the girl to dismount.

"We will sleep here for a time and let the ponies graze," he said.

"I had no idea the camp was so far away," said Meriem.

"I left orders that they were to move on at day break," explainedthe trader, "so that we could get a good start. I knew that youand I could easily overtake a laden safari. It may not beuntil tomorrow that we'll catch up with them."

But though they traveled part of the night and all the followingday no sign of the safari appeared ahead of them. Meriem, anadept in jungle craft, knew that none had passed ahead of themfor many days. Occasionally she saw indications of an old spoor,a very old spoor, of many men. For the most part they followedthis well-marked trail along elephant paths and through park-like groves. It was an ideal trail for rapid traveling.

Meriem at last became suspicious. Gradually the attitude of theman at her side had begun to change. Often she surprised himdevouring her with his eyes. Steadily the former sensation ofprevious acquaintanceship urged itself upon her. Somewhere, sometimebefore she had known this man. It was evident that he had notshaved for several days. A blonde stubble had commenced to coverhis neck and cheeks and chin, and with it the assurance that he wasno stranger continued to grow upon the girl.

It was not until the second day, however, that Meriem rebelled. She drew in her pony at last and voiced her doubts. Hanson assuredher that the camp was but a few miles further on.

"We should have overtaken them yesterday," he said. "They musthave marched much faster than I had believed possible."

"They have not marched here at all," said Meriem. "The spoorthat we have been following is weeks old."

Hanson laughed.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" he cried. "Why didn't you say so before?I could have easily explained. We are not coming by the sameroute; but we'll pick up their trail sometime today, even if wedon't overtake them."

Now, at last, Meriem knew the man was lying to her. What afool he must be to think that anyone could believe such aridiculous explanation? Who was so stupid as to believe thatthey could have expected to overtake another party, and he hadcertainly assured her that momentarily he expected to do so, whenthat party's route was not to meet theirs for several miles yet?

She kept her own counsel however, planning to escape at thefirst opportunity when she might have a sufficient start of hercaptor, as she now considered him, to give her some assuranceof outdistancing him. She watched his face continually whenshe could without being observed. Tantalizingly the placing ofhis familiar features persisted in eluding her. Where had sheknown him? Under what conditions had they met before she hadseen him about the farm of Bwana? She ran over in her mind allthe few white men she ever had known. There were some whohad come to her father's douar in the jungle. Few it istrue, but there had been some. Ah, now she had it! She hadseen him there! She almost seized upon his identity and thenin an instant, it had slipped from her again.

It was mid afternoon when they suddenly broke out of thejungle upon the banks of a broad and placid river. Beyond, uponthe opposite shore, Meriem described a camp surrounded by ahigh, thorn boma.

"Here we are at last," said Hanson. He drew his revolver andfired in the air. Instantly the camp across the river was astir. Black men ran down the river's bank. Hanson hailed them. But therewas no sign of the Hon. Morison Baynes.

In accordance with their master's instructions the blacksmanned a canoe and rowed across. Hanson placed Meriem inthe little craft and entered it himself, leaving two boys to watchthe horses, which the canoe was to return for and swim acrossto the camp side of the river.

Once in the camp Meriem asked for Baynes. For the momenther fears had been allayed by the sight of the camp, which shehad come to look upon as more or less a myth. Hanson pointedtoward the single tent that stood in the center of the enclosure.

"There," he said, and preceded her toward it. At the entrancehe held the flap aside and motioned her within. Meriem enteredand looked about. The tent was empty. She turned toward Hanson. There was a broad grin on his face.

"Where is Mr. Baynes?" she demanded.

"He ain't here," replied Hanson. "Leastwise I don't see him,do you? But I'm here, and I'm a damned sight better man thanthat thing ever was. You don't need him no more--you got me,"and he laughed uproariously and reached for her.

Meriem struggled to free herself. Hanson encircled her armsand body in his powerful grip and bore her slowly backwardtoward the pile of blankets at the far end of the tent. His facewas bent close to hers. His eyes were narrowed to two slits ofheat and passion and desire. Meriem was looking full into hisface as she fought for freedom when there came over her asudden recollection of a similar scene in which she had been aparticipant and with it full recognition of her assailant. He wasthe Swede Malbihn who had attacked her once before, who hadshot his companion who would have saved her, and from whomshe had been rescued by Bwana. His smooth face had deceivedher; but now with the growing beard and the similarity ofconditions recognition came swift and sure.

But today there would be no Bwana to save her.