As Meriem struggled with Malbihn, her hands pinioned to hersides by his brawny grip, hope died within her. She did notutter a sound for she knew that there was none to come to herassistance, and, too, the jungle training of her earlier lifehad taught her the futility of appeals for succor in the savageworld of her up-bringing.

But as she fought to free herself one hand came in contact withthe butt of Malbihn's revolver where it rested in the holster athis hip. Slowly he was dragging her toward the blankets, andslowly her fingers encircled the coveted prize and drew it fromits resting place.

Then, as Malbihn stood at the edge of the disordered pile ofblankets, Meriem suddenly ceased to draw away from him, andas quickly hurled her weight against him with the result thathe was thrown backward, his feet stumbled against the beddingand he was hurled to his back. Instinctively his hands flew outto save himself and at the same instant Meriem leveled therevolver at his breast and pulled the trigger.

But the hammer fell futilely upon an empty shell, and Malbihnwas again upon his feet clutching at her. For a moment sheeluded him, and ran toward the entrance to the tent, but at thevery doorway his heavy hand fell upon her shoulder and draggedher back. Wheeling upon him with the fury of a wounded lionessMeriem grasped the long revolver by the barrel, swung it highabove her head and crashed it down full in Malbihn's face.

With an oath of pain and rage the man staggered backward,releasing his hold upon her and then sank unconscious tothe ground. Without a backward look Meriem turned and fledinto the open. Several of the blacks saw her and tried tointercept her flight, but the menace of the empty weapon keptthem at a distance. And so she won beyond the encirclingboma and disappeared into the jungle to the south.

Straight into the branches of a tree she went, true to thearboreal instincts of the little mangani she had been, andhere she stripped off her riding skirt, her shoes and herstockings, for she knew that she had before her a journey anda flight which would not brook the burden of these garments. Her riding breeches and jacket would have to serve as protectionfrom cold and thorns, nor would they hamper her over much;but a skirt and shoes were impossible among the trees.

She had not gone far before she commenced to realize how slightwere her chances for survival without means of defense or aweapon to bring down meat. Why had she not thought to stripthe cartridge belt from Malbihn's waist before she had lefthis tent! With cartridges for the revolver she might hope tobag small game, and to protect herself from all but the mostferocious of the enemies that would beset her way back to thebeloved hearthstone of Bwana and My Dear.

With the thought came determination to return and obtainthe coveted ammunition. She realized that she was takinggreat chances of recapture; but without means of defenseand of obtaining meat she felt that she could never hope toreach safety. And so she turned her face back toward thecamp from which she had but just escaped.

She thought Malbihn dead, so terrific a blow had she dealt him,and she hoped to find an opportunity after dark to enter thecamp and search his tent for the cartridge belt; but scarcelyhad she found a hiding place in a great tree at the edge of theboma where she could watch without danger of being discovered,when she saw the Swede emerge from his tent, wiping blood fromhis face, and hurling a volley of oaths and questions at histerrified followers.

Shortly after the entire camp set forth in search of her andwhen Meriem was positive that all were gone she descendedfrom her hiding place and ran quickly across the clearing toMalbihn's tent. A hasty survey of the interior revealed noammunition; but in one corner was a box in which were packedthe Swede's personal belongings that he had sent along by hisheadman to this westerly camp.

Meriem seized the receptacle as the possible container ofextra ammunition. Quickly she loosed the cords that held thecanvas covering about the box, and a moment later had raised thelid and was rummaging through the heterogeneous accumulation ofodds and ends within. There were letters and papers and cuttingsfrom old newspapers, and among other things the photograph of alittle girl upon the back of which was pasted a cutting from aParis daily--a cutting that she could not read, yellowed anddimmed by age and handling--but something about the photographof the little girl which was also reproduced in the newspapercutting held her attention. Where had she seen that picture before? And then, quite suddenly, it came to her that this was a pictureof herself as she had been years and years before.

Where had it been taken? How had it come into the possession ofthis man? Why had it been reproduced in a newspaper? What wasthe story that the faded type told of it?

Meriem was baffled by the puzzle that her search for ammunitionhad revealed. She stood gazing at the faded photograph for atime and then bethought herself of the ammunition for which shehad come. Turning again to the box she rummaged to the bottomand there in a corner she came upon a little box of cartridges. A single glance assured her that they were intended for the weaponshe had thrust inside the band of her riding breeches, and slippingthem into her pocket she turned once more for an examination of thebaffling likeness of herself that she held in her hand.

As she stood thus in vain endeavor to fathom this inexplicablemystery the sound of voices broke upon her ears. Instantly shewas all alert. They were coming closer! A second later sherecognized the lurid profanity of the Swede. Malbihn, herpersecutor, was returning! Meriem ran quickly to the opening ofthe tent and looked out. It was too late! She was fairly cornered!The white man and three of his black henchmen were coming straightacross the clearing toward the tent. What was she to do? She slippedthe photograph into her waist. Quickly she slipped a cartridgeinto each of the chambers of the revolver. Then she backed towardthe end of the tent, keeping the entrance covered by her weapon. The man stopped outside, and Meriem could hear Malbihn profanelyissuing instructions. He was a long time about it, and while hetalked in his bellowing, brutish voice, the girl sought someavenue of escape. Stooping, she raised the bottom of the canvasand looked beneath and beyond. There was no one in sight uponthat side. Throwing herself upon her stomach she wormed beneaththe tent wall just as Malbihn, with a final word to his men,entered the tent.

Meriem heard him cross the floor, and then she rose and, stoopinglow, ran to a native hut directly behind. Once inside this sheturned and glanced back. There was no one in sight. She had notbeen seen. And now from Malbihn's tent she heard a great cursing. The Swede had discovered the rifling of his box. He was shoutingto his men, and as she heard them reply Meriem darted from the hutand ran toward the edge of the boma furthest from Malbihn's tent.Overhanging the boma at this point was a tree that had been toolarge, in the eyes of the rest-loving blacks, to cut down. So theyhad terminated the boma just short of it. Meriem was thankfulfor whatever circumstance had resulted in the leaving of thatparticular tree where it was, since it gave her the much-neededavenue of escape which she might not otherwise have had.

From her hiding place she saw Malbihn again enter the jungle, thistime leaving a guard of three of his boys in the camp. He wenttoward the south, and after he had disappeared, Meriem skirtedthe outside of the enclosure and made her way to the river. Here lay the canoes that had been used in bringing the party fromthe opposite shore. They were unwieldy things for a lone girl tohandle, but there was no other way and she must cross the river.

The landing place was in full view of the guard at the camp.To risk the crossing under their eyes would have meantundoubted capture. Her only hope lay in waiting untildarkness had fallen, unless some fortuitous circumstanceshould arise before. For an hour she lay watching the guard,one of whom seemed always in a position where he wouldimmediately discover her should she attempt to launch oneof the canoes.

Presently Malbihn appeared, coming out of the jungle, hotand puffing. He ran immediately to the river where the canoeslay and counted them. It was evident that it had suddenlyoccurred to him that the girl must cross here if she wished toreturn to her protectors. The expression of relief on his facewhen he found that none of the canoes was gone was ample evidenceof what was passing in his mind. He turned and spoke hurriedlyto the head man who had followed him out of the jungle andwith whom were several other blacks.

Following Malbihn's instructions they launched all the canoesbut one. Malbihn called to the guards in the camp and a momentlater the entire party had entered the boats and were paddlingup stream.

Meriem watched them until a bend in the river directly abovethe camp hid them from her sight. They were gone! She wasalone, and they had left a canoe in which lay a paddle! She couldscarce believe the good fortune that had come to her. To delaynow would be suicidal to her hopes. Quickly she ran from herhiding place and dropped to the ground. A dozen yards laybetween her and the canoe.

Up stream, beyond the bend, Malbihn ordered his canoes into shore. He landed with his head man and crossed the littlepoint slowly in search of a spot where he might watch the canoehe had left at the landing place. He was smiling in anticipationof the almost certain success of his stratagem--sooner or laterthe girl would come back and attempt to cross the river in oneof their canoes. It might be that the idea would not occur to herfor some time. They might have to wait a day, or two days; butthat she would come if she lived or was not captured by the menhe had scouting the jungle for her Malbihn was sure. That shewould come so soon, however, he had not guessed, and so whenhe topped the point and came again within sight of the river hesaw that which drew an angry oath from his lips--his quarryalready was half way across the river.

Turning, he ran rapidly back to his boats, the head man athis heels. Throwing themselves in, Malbihn urged his paddlersto their most powerful efforts. The canoes shot out into thestream and down with the current toward the fleeing quarry. She had almost completed the crossing when they came in sightof her. At the same instant she saw them, and redoubled herefforts to reach the opposite shore before they shouldovertake her. Two minutes' start of them was all Meriemcared for. Once in the trees she knew that she couldoutdistance and elude them. Her hopes were high--they couldnot overtake her now--she had had too good a start of them.

Malbihn, urging his men onward with a stream of hideous oathsand blows from his fists, realized that the girl was againslipping from his clutches. The leading canoe, in the bow ofwhich he stood, was yet a hundred yards behind the fleeingMeriem when she ran the point of her craft beneath theoverhanging trees on the shore of safety.

Malbihn screamed to her to halt. He seemed to have gone madwith rage at the realization that he could not overtake her,and then he threw his rifle to his shoulder, aimed carefully atthe slim figure scrambling into the trees, and fired.

Malbihn was an excellent shot. His misses at so short a distancewere practically non-existent, nor would he have missed this timebut for an accident occurring at the very instant that his fingertightened upon the trigger--an accident to which Meriem owed herlife--the providential presence of a water-logged tree trunk, oneend of which was embedded in the mud of the river bottom and theother end of which floated just beneath the surface where the prowof Malbihn's canoe ran upon it as he fired. The slight deviationof the boat's direction was sufficient to throw the muzzle of therifle out of aim. The bullet whizzed harmlessly by Meriem's headand an instant later she had disappeared into the foliage of the tree.

There was a smile on her lips as she dropped to the ground tocross a little clearing where once had stood a native villagesurrounded by its fields. The ruined huts still stood incrumbling decay. The rank vegetation of the jungle overgrew thecultivated ground. Small trees already had sprung up in what hadbeen the village street; but desolation and loneliness hung like apall above the scene. To Meriem, however, it presented but a placedenuded of large trees which she must cross quickly to regain thejungle upon the opposite side before Malbihn should have landed.

The deserted huts were, to her, all the better because they weredeserted--she did not see the keen eyes watching her from a dozenpoints, from tumbling doorways, from behind tottering granaries. In utter unconsciousness of impending danger she started up thevillage street because it offered the clearest pathway to the jungle.

A mile away toward the east, fighting his way through thejungle along the trail taken by Malbihn when he had broughtMeriem to his camp, a man in torn khaki--filthy, haggard,unkempt--came to a sudden stop as the report of Malbihn's rifleresounded faintly through the tangled forest. The black man justahead of him stopped, too.

"We are almost there, Bwana," he said. There was awe andrespect in his tone and manner.

The white man nodded and motioned his ebon guide forwardonce more. It was the Hon. Morison Baynes--the fastidious--the exquisite. His face and hands were scratched and smearedwith dried blood from the wounds he had come by in thornand thicket. His clothes were tatters. But through the bloodand the dirt and the rags a new Baynes shone forth--a handsomerBaynes than the dandy and the fop of yore.

In the heart and soul of every son of woman lies the germ ofmanhood and honor. Remorse for a scurvy act, and an honorabledesire to right the wrong he had done the woman he now knew hereally loved had excited these germs to rapid growth in MorisonBaynes--and the metamorphosis had taken place.

Onward the two stumbled toward the point from which the singlerifle shot had come. The black was unarmed--Baynes, fearing hisloyalty had not dared trust him even to carry the rifle whichthe white man would have been glad to be relieved of many timesupon the long march; but now that they were approaching their goal,and knowing as he did that hatred of Malbihn burned hot in theblack man's brain, Baynes handed him the rifle, for he guessedthat there would be fighting--he intended that there should, orhe had come to avenge. Himself, an excellent revolver shot,would depend upon the smaller weapon at his side.

As the two forged ahead toward their goal they were startledby a volley of shots ahead of them. Then came a few scatteringreports, some savage yells, and silence. Baynes was frantic inhis endeavors to advance more rapidly, but there the jungleseemed a thousand times more tangled than before. A dozentimes he tripped and fell. Twice the black followed a blind trailand they were forced to retrace their steps; but at last they cameout into a little clearing near the big afi--a clearing that onceheld a thriving village, but lay somber and desolate in decay and ruin.

In the jungle vegetation that overgrew what had once been themain village street lay the body of a black man, pierced throughthe heart with a bullet, and still warm. Baynes and his companionlooked about in all directions; but no sign of living beingcould they discover. They stood in silence listening intently.

What was that! Voices and the dip of paddles out upon the river?

Baynes ran across the dead village toward the fringe of jungleupon the river's brim. The black was at his side. Together theyforced their way through the screening foliage until they couldobtain a view of the river, and there, almost to the other shore,they saw Malbihn's canoes making rapidly for camp. The blackrecognized his companions immediately.

"How can we cross?" asked Baynes.

The black shook his head. There was no canoe and the crocodilesmade it equivalent to suicide to enter the water in an attempt toswim across. Just then the fellow chanced to glance downward. Beneath him, wedged among the branches of a tree, lay the canoein which Meriem had escaped. The Negro grasped Baynes' arm andpointed toward his find. The Hon. Morison could scarce repressa shout of exultation. Quickly the two slid down the droopingbranches into the boat. The black seized the paddle and Baynesshoved them out from beneath the tree. A second later the canoeshot out upon the bosom of the river and headed toward theopposite shore and the camp of the Swede. Baynes squatted inthe bow, straining his eyes after the men pulling the othercanoes upon the bank across from him. He saw Malbihn step fromthe bow of the foremost of the little craft. He saw him turnand glance back across the river. He could see his start ofsurprise as his eyes fell upon the pursuing canoe, and calledthe attention of his followers to it.

Then he stood waiting, for there was but one canoe andtwo men--little danger to him and his followers in that. Malbihn was puzzled. Who was this white man? He did notrecognize him though Baynes' canoe was now in mid streamand the features of both its occupants plainly discernibleto those on shore. One of Malbihn's blacks it was who firstrecognized his fellow black in the person of Baynes' companion. Then Malbihn guessed who the white man must be, though he couldscarce believe his own reasoning. It seemed beyond the paleof wildest conjecture to suppose that the Hon. Morison Bayneshad followed him through the jungle with but a single companion--and yet it was true. Beneath the dirt and dishevelment herecognized him at last, and in the necessity of admitting thatit was he, Malbihn was forced to recognize the incentive thathad driven Baynes, the weakling and coward, through the savagejungle upon his trail.

The man had come to demand an accounting and to avenge. It seemed incredible, and yet there could be no other explanation. Malbihn shrugged. Well, others had sought Malbihn for similarreasons in the course of a long and checkered career. He fingeredhis rifle, and waited.

Now the canoe was within easy speaking distance of the shore.

"What do you want?" yelled Malbihn, raising his weapon threateningly.

The Hon. Morison Baynes leaped to his feet.

"You, damn you!" he shouted, whipping out his revolver andfiring almost simultaneously with the Swede.

As the two reports rang out Malbihn dropped his rifle, clutchedfrantically at his breast, staggered, fell first to his kneesand then lunged upon his face. Baynes stiffened. His head flewback spasmodically. For an instant he stood thus, and thencrumpled very gently into the bottom of the boat.

The black paddler was at a loss as to what to do. If Malbihnreally were dead he could continue on to join his fellows withoutfear; but should the Swede only be wounded he would be saferupon the far shore. Therefore he hesitated, holding the canoein mid stream. He had come to have considerable respect for hisnew master and was not unmoved by his death. As he sat gazingat the crumpled body in the bow of the boat he saw it move.Very feebly the man essayed to turn over. He still lived. The black moved forward and lifted him to a sitting position. He was standing in front of him, his paddle in one hand, askingBaynes where he was hit when there was another shot fromshore and the Negro pitched head long overboard, his paddlestill clutched in his dead fingers--shot through the forehead.

Baynes turned weakly in the direction of the shore to seeMalbihn drawn up upon his elbows levelling his rifle at him.The Englishman slid to the bottom of the canoe as a bulletwhizzed above him. Malbihn, sore hit, took longer in aiming,nor was his aim as sure as formerly. With difficulty Baynesturned himself over on his belly and grasping his revolver in hisright hand drew himself up until he could look over the edge ofthe canoe.

Malbihn saw him instantly and fired; but Baynes did not flinchor duck. With painstaking care he aimed at the target upon theshore from which he now was drifting with the current. His fingerclosed upon the trigger--there was a flash and a report, andMalbihn's giant frame jerked to the impact of another bullet.

But he was not yet dead. Again he aimed and fired, the bulletsplintering the gunwale of the canoe close by Baynes' face.Baynes fired again as his canoe drifted further down stream andMalbihn answered from the shore where he lay in a pool of hisown blood. And thus, doggedly, the two wounded men continuedto carry on their weird duel until the winding African riverhad carried the Hon. Morison Baynes out of sight around awooded point.