The Sheik glowered at the prisoner which his two men broughtback to him from the North. He had sent the party after AbdulKamak, and he was wroth that instead of his erstwhile lieutenantthey had sent back a wounded and useless Englishman. Why hadthey not dispatched him where they had found him? He was somepenniless beggar of a trader who had wandered from his owndistrict and became lost. He was worthless. The Sheik scowledterribly upon him.

"Who are you?" he asked in French.

"I am the Hon. Morison Baynes of London," replied his prisoner.

The title sounded promising, and at once the wily old robberhad visions of ransom. His intentions, if not his attitude towardthe prisoner underwent a change--he would investigate further.

"What were you doing poaching in my country?" growled he.

"I was not aware that you owned Africa," replied the Hon. Morison. "I was searching for a young woman who had been abducted from thehome of a friend. The abductor wounded me and I drifted down riverin a canoe--I was on my back to his camp when your men seized me."

"A young woman?" asked The Sheik. "Is that she?" and he pointedto his left over toward a clump of bushes near the stockade.

Baynes looked in the direction indicated and his eyes wentwide, for there, sitting cross-legged upon the ground, her backtoward them, was Meriem.

"Meriem!" he shouted, starting toward her; but one of hisguards grasped his arm and jerked him back. The girl leaped toher feet and turned toward him as she heard her name.

"Morison!" she cried.

"Be still, and stay where you are," snapped The Sheik, andthen to Baynes. "So you are the dog of a Christian who stolemy daughter from me?"

"Your daughter?" ejaculated Baynes. "She is your daughter?"

"She is my daughter," growled the Arab, "and she is not forany unbeliever. You have earned death, Englishman, but if youcan pay for your life I will give it to you."

Baynes' eyes were still wide at the unexpected sight ofMeriem here in the camp of the Arab when he had thought herin Hanson's power. What had happened? How had she escapedthe Swede? Had the Arab taken her by force from him, or had sheescaped and come voluntarily back to the protection of the manwho called her "daughter"? He would have given much for aword with her. If she was safe here he might only harm her byantagonizing the Arab in an attempt to take her away and returnher to her English friends. No longer did the Hon. Morisonharbor thoughts of luring the girl to London.

"Well?" asked The Sheik.

"Oh," exclaimed Baynes; "I beg your pardon--I was thinkingof something else. Why yes, of course, glad to pay, I'm sure.How much do you think I'm worth?"

The Sheik named a sum that was rather less exorbitant thanthe Hon. Morison had anticipated. The latter nodded his headin token of his entire willingness to pay. He would havepromised a sum far beyond his resources just as readily, forhe had no intention of paying anything--his one reason forseeming to comply with The Sheik's demands was that the waitfor the coming of the ransom money would give him the time andthe opportunity to free Meriem if he found that she wished tobe freed. The Arab's statement that he was her father naturallyraised the question in the Hon. Morison's mind as to preciselywhat the girl's attitude toward escape might be. It seemed, ofcourse, preposterous that this fair and beautiful young womanshould prefer to remain in the filthy douar of an illiterateold Arab rather than return to the comforts, luxuries, andcongenial associations of the hospitable African bungalow fromwhich the Hon. Morison had tricked her. The man flushed at thethought of his duplicity which these recollections aroused--thoughts which were interrupted by The Sheik, who instructedthe Hon. Morison to write a letter to the British consul atAlgiers, dictating the exact phraseology of it with a fluencythat indicated to his captive that this was not the first timethe old rascal had had occasion to negotiate with Englishrelatives for the ransom of a kinsman. Baynes demurred whenhe saw that the letter was addressed to the consul at Algiers,saying that it would require the better part of a year to getthe money back to him; but The Sheik would not listen to Baynes'plan to send a messenger directly to the nearest coast town,and from there communicate with the nearest cable state, sendingthe Hon. Morison's request for funds straight to his own solicitors. No, The Sheik was cautious and wary. He knew his own plan hadworked well in the past. In the other were too many untried elements. He was in no hurry for the money--he could wait a year, or twoyears if necessary; but it should not require over six months. He turned to one of the Arabs who had been standing behind himand gave the fellow instructions in relation to the prisoner.

Baynes could not understand the words, spoken in Arabic, butthe jerk of the thumb toward him showed that he was the subjectof conversation. The Arab addressed by The Sheik bowed to hismaster and beckoned Baynes to follow him. The Englishman lookedtoward The Sheik for confirmation. The latter nodded impatiently,and the Hon. Morison rose and followed his guide toward a nativehut which lay close beside one of the outside goatskin tents. In the dark, stifling interior his guard led him, then steppedto the doorway and called to a couple of black boys squattingbefore their own huts. They came promptly and in accordancewith the Arab's instructions bound Baynes' wrists andankles securely. The Englishman objected strenuously; butas neither the blacks nor the Arab could understand a word hesaid his pleas were wasted. Having bound him they left the hut.The Hon. Morison lay for a long time contemplating the frightfulfuture which awaited him during the long months which mustintervene before his friends learned of his predicament andcould get succor to him. Now he hoped that they would sendthe ransom--he would gladly pay all that he was worth to be outof this hole. At first it had been his intention to cable hissolicitors to send no money but to communicate with the BritishWest African authorities and have an expedition sent to his aid.

His patrician nose wrinkled in disgust as his nostrils wereassailed by the awful stench of the hut. The nasty grasses uponwhich he lay exuded the effluvium of sweaty bodies, of decayedanimal matter and of offal. But worse was yet to come. He hadlain in the uncomfortable position in which they had thrown himbut for a few minutes when he became distinctly conscious ofan acute itching sensation upon his hands, his neck and scalp.He wriggled to a sitting posture horrified and disgusted. The itching rapidly extended to other parts of his body--itwas torture, and his hands were bound securely at his back!

He tugged and pulled at his bonds until he was exhausted; butnot entirely without hope, for he was sure that he was workingenough slack out of the knot to eventually permit of hiswithdrawing one of his hands. Night came. They brought himneither food nor drink. He wondered if they expected him tolive on nothing for a year. The bites of the vermin grew lessannoying though not less numerous. The Hon. Morison saw a ray ofhope in this indication of future immunity through inoculation.He still worked weakly at his bonds, and then the rats came. If the vermin were disgusting the rats were terrifying. They scurried over his body, squealing and fighting. Finally one commenced to chew at one of his ears. With anoath, the Hon. Morison struggled to a sitting posture. The rats retreated. He worked his legs beneath him andcame to his knees, and then, by superhuman effort, rose tohis feet. There he stood, reeling drunkenly, dripping withcold sweat.

"God!" he muttered, "what have I done to deserve--" He paused. What had he done? He thought of the girl in another tent in thataccursed village. He was getting his deserts. He set his jawsfirmly with the realization. He would never complain again! At that moment he became aware of voices raised angrily in thegoatskin tent close beside the hut in which he lay. One ofthem was a woman's. Could it be Meriem's? The language wasprobably Arabic--he could not understand a word of it; but thetones were hers.

He tried to think of some way of attracting her attention to hisnear presence. If she could remove his bonds they might escapetogether--if she wished to escape. That thought bothered him. He was not sure of her status in the village. If she were thepetted child of the powerful Sheik then she would probably notcare to escape. He must know, definitely.

At the bungalow he had often heard Meriem sing God Savethe King, as My Dear accompanied her on the piano. Raising hisvoice he now hummed the tune. Immediately he heard Meriem'svoice from the tent. She spoke rapidly.

"Good bye, Morison," she cried. "If God is good I shall bedead before morning, for if I still live I shall be worse thandead after tonight."

Then he heard an angry exclamation in a man's voice, followedby the sounds of a scuffle. Baynes went white with horror.He struggled frantically again with his bonds. They were giving.A moment later one hand was free. It was but the work of aninstant then to loose the other. Stooping, he untied the rope fromhis ankles, then he straightened and started for the hut doorwaybent on reaching Meriem's side. As he stepped out into the nightthe figure of a huge black rose and barred his progress.

When speed was required of him Korak depended upon noother muscles than his own, and so it was that the momentTantor had landed him safely upon the same side of the river aslay the village of The Sheik, the ape-man deserted his bulkycomrade and took to the trees in a rapid race toward the southand the spot where the Swede had told him Meriem might be.It was dark when he came to the palisade, strengthenedconsiderably since the day that he had rescued Meriem from herpitiful life within its cruel confines. No longer did the gianttree spread its branches above the wooden rampart; but ordinaryman-made defenses were scarce considered obstacles by Korak. Loosening the rope at his waist he tossed the noose over one ofthe sharpened posts that composed the palisade. A moment laterhis eyes were above the level of the obstacle taking in all withintheir range beyond. There was no one in sight close by, and Korakdrew himself to the top and dropped lightly to the ground withinthe enclosure.

Then he commenced his stealthy search of the village. First toward the Arab tents he made his way, sniffingand listening. He passed behind them searching for somesign of Meriem. Not even the wild Arab curs heard hispassage, so silently he went--a shadow passing through shadows. The odor of tobacco told him that the Arabs were smoking beforetheir tents. The sound of laughter fell upon his ears, and thenfrom the opposite side of the village came the notes of a oncefamiliar tune: God Save the King. Korak halted in perplexity. Who might it be--the tones were those of a man. He recalledthe young Englishman he had left on the river trail and who haddisappeared before he returned. A moment later there came to hima woman's voice in reply--it was Meriem's, and The Killer,quickened into action, slunk rapidly in the direction of thesetwo voices.

The evening meal over Meriem had gone to her pallet in thewomen's quarters of The Sheik's tent, a little corner screenedoff in the rear by a couple of priceless Persian rugs to forma partition. In these quarters she had dwelt with Mabunu alone,for The Sheik had no wives. Nor were conditions altered nowafter the years of her absence--she and Mabunu were alone inthe women's quarters.

Presently The Sheik came and parted the rugs. He glaredthrough the dim light of the interior.

"Meriem!" he called. "Come hither."

The girl arose and came into the front of the tent. There thelight of a fire illuminated the interior. She saw Ali ben Kadin,The Sheik's half brother, squatted upon a rug, smoking. The Sheikwas standing. The Sheik and Ali ben Kadin had had the same father,but Ali ben Kadin's mother had been a slave--a West Coast Negress. Ali ben Kadin was old and hideous and almost black. His nose andpart of one cheek were eaten away by disease. He looked up andgrinned as Meriem entered.

The Sheik jerked his thumb toward Ali ben Kadin and addressed Meriem.

"I am getting old," he said, "I shall not live much longer.Therefore I have given you to Ali ben Kadin, my brother."

That was all. Ali ben Kadin rose and came toward her. Meriem shrank back, horrified. The man seized her wrist.

"Come!" he commanded, and dragged her from The Sheik's tentand to his own.

After they had gone The Sheik chuckled. "When I send hernorth in a few months," he soliloquized, "they will know thereward for slaying the son of the sister of Amor ben Khatour."

And in Ali ben Kadin's tent Meriem pleaded and threatened, butall to no avail. The hideous old halfcaste spoke soft wordsat first, but when Meriem loosed upon him the vials of her horrorand loathing he became enraged, and rushing upon her seizedher in his arms. Twice she tore away from him, and in one ofthe intervals during which she managed to elude him she heardBaynes' voice humming the tune that she knew was meant forher ears. At her reply Ali ben Kadin rushed upon her once again.This time he dragged her back into the rear apartment of his tentwhere three Negresses looked up in stolid indifference to thetragedy being enacted before them.

As the Hon. Morison saw his way blocked by the huge frame ofthe giant black his disappointment and rage filled him with abestial fury that transformed him into a savage beast. With anoath he leaped upon the man before him, the momentum of his bodyhurling the black to the ground. There they fought, the blackto draw his knife, the white to choke the life from the black.

Baynes' fingers shut off the cry for help that the other wouldhave been glad to voice; but presently the Negro succeeded indrawing his weapon and an instant later Baynes felt the sharpsteel in his shoulder. Again and again the weapon fell. The whiteman removed one hand from its choking grip upon the black throat. He felt around upon the ground beside him searching for somemissile, and at last his fingers touched a stone and closedupon it. Raising it above his antagonist's head the Hon. Morisondrove home a terrific blow. Instantly the black relaxed--stunned.Twice more Baynes struck him. Then he leaped to his feet andran for the goat skin tent from which he had heard the voice ofMeriem in distress.

But before him was another. Naked but for his leopard skinand his loin cloth, Korak, The Killer, slunk into the shadows atthe back of Ali ben Kadin's tent. The half-caste had just draggedMeriem into the rear chamber as Korak's sharp knife slit a sixfoot opening in the tent wall, and Korak, tall and mighty, sprangthrough upon the astonished visions of the inmates.

Meriem saw and recognized him the instant that he enteredthe apartment. Her heart leaped in pride and joy at the sightof the noble figure for which it had hungered for so long.

"Korak!" she cried.

"Meriem!" He uttered the single word as he hurled himselfupon the astonished Ali ben Kadin. The three Negresses leapedfrom their sleeping mats, screaming. Meriem tried to preventthem from escaping; but before she could succeed the terrifiedblacks had darted through the hole in the tent wall made byKorak's knife, and were gone screaming through the village.

The Killer's fingers closed once upon the throat of the hideous Ali. Once his knife plunged into the putrid heart--and Ali ben Kadinlay dead upon the floor of his tent. Korak turned toward Meriemand at the same moment a bloody and disheveled apparition leapedinto the apartment.

"Morison!" cried the girl.

Korak turned and looked at the new comer. He had been aboutto take Meriem in his arms, forgetful of all that might havetranspired since last he had seen her. Then the coming of theyoung Englishman recalled the scene he had witnessed in thelittle clearing, and a wave of misery swept over the ape man.

Already from without came the sounds of the alarm that thethree Negresses had started. Men were running toward the tentof Ali ben Kadin. There was no time to be lost.

"Quick!" cried Korak, turning toward Baynes, who had scarceyet realized whether he was facing a friend or foe. "Take herto the palisade, following the rear of the tents. Here ismy rope. With it you can scale the wall and make your escape."

"But you, Korak?" cried Meriem.

"I will remain," replied the ape-man. "I have business withThe Sheik."

Meriem would have demurred, but The Killer seized them bothby the shoulders and hustled them through the slit wall andout into the shadows beyond.

"Now run for it," he admonished, and turned to meet andhold those who were pouring into the tent from the front.

The ape-man fought well--fought as he had never fought before;but the odds were too great for victory, though he won that whichhe most craved--time for the Englishman to escape with Meriem. Then he was overwhelmed by numbers, and a few minutes later,bound and guarded, he was carried to The Sheik's tent.

The old men eyed him in silence for a long time. He wastrying to fix in his own mind some form of torture that wouldgratify his rage and hatred toward this creature who twice hadbeen the means of his losing possession of Meriem. The killingof Ali ben Kadin caused him little anger--always had he hatedthe hideous son of his father's hideous slave. The blow that thisnaked white warrior had once struck him added fuel to his rage.He could think of nothing adequate to the creature's offense.

And as he sat there looking upon Korak the silence was broken bythe trumpeting of an elephant in the jungle beyond the palisade. A half smile touched Korak's lips. He turned his head a triflein the direction from which the sound had come and then therebroke from his lips, a low, weird call. One of the blacksguarding him struck him across the mouth with the haft of hisspear; but none there knew the significance of his cry.

In the jungle Tantor cocked his ears as the sound of Korak'svoice fell upon them. He approached the palisade and lifting histrunk above it, sniffed. Then he placed his head against thewooden logs and pushed; but the palisade was strong and onlygave a little to the pressure.

In The Sheik's tent The Sheik rose at last, and, pointingtoward the bound captive, turned to one of his lieutenants.

"Burn him," he commanded. "At once. The stake is set."

The guard pushed Korak from The Sheik's presence. They draggedhim to the open space in the center of the village, where a highstake was set in the ground. It had not been intended forburnings, but offered a convenient place to tie up refractoryslaves that they might be beaten--ofttimes until death relievedtheir agonies.

To this stake they bound Korak. Then they brought brush andpiled about him, and The Sheik came and stood by that he mightwatch the agonies of his victim. But Korak did not wince evenafter they had fetched a brand and the flames had shot up amongthe dry tinder.

Once, then, he raised his voice in the low call that he hadgiven 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 soundof Korak's voice calling him, and the scent of man, his enemy,filled the great beast with rage and resentment against thedumb barrier that held him back. He wheeled and shuffledback a dozen paces, then he turned, lifted his trunk and gavevoice to a mighty roaring, trumpet-call of anger, lowered hishead and charged like a huge battering ram of flesh and boneand muscle straight for the mighty barrier.

The palisade sagged and splintered to the impact, and throughthe breach rushed the infuriated bull. Korak heard the soundsthat the others heard, and he interpreted them as the othersdid not. The flames were creeping closer to him when one of theblacks, hearing a noise behind him turned to see the enormousbulk of Tantor lumbering toward them. The man screamed andfled, and then the bull elephant was among them tossing Negroesand Arabs to right and left as he tore through the flames hefeared to the side of the comrade he loved.

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

Lifting his burden high above his head the giant beast wheeledand raced for the breach that he had just made in the palisade.The Sheik, rifle in hand, rushed from his tent directly into thepath of the maddened brute. He raised his weapon and firedonce, the bullet missed its mark, and Tantor was upon him,crushing him beneath those gigantic feet as he raced over himas you and I might crush out the life of an ant that chanced tobe in our pathway.

And then, bearing his burden carefully, Tantor, the elephant,entered the blackness of the jungle.