From her cabin port upon the Kincaid, Jane Clayton hadseen her husband rowed to the verdure-clad shore of JungleIsland, and then the ship once more proceeded upon its way.

For several days she saw no one other than Sven Anderssen,the Kincaid's taciturn and repellent cook. She asked himthe name of the shore upon which her husband had been set.

"Ay tank it blow purty soon purty hard," replied theSwede, and that was all that she could get out of him.

She had come to the conclusion that he spoke no otherEnglish, and so she ceased to importune him for information;but never did she forget to greet him pleasantly or to thankhim for the hideous, nauseating meals he brought her.

Three days from the spot where Tarzan had been maroonedthe Kincaid came to anchor in the mouth of a greatriver, and presently Rokoff came to Jane Clayton's cabin.

"We have arrived, my dear," he said, with a sickening leer. "I have come to offer you safety, liberty, and ease. My hearthas been softened toward you in your suffering, and I wouldmake amends as best I may.

"Your husband was a brute--you know that best who foundhim naked in his native jungle, roaming wild with the savagebeasts that were his fellows. Now I am a gentleman, not onlyborn of noble blood, but raised gently as befits a man of quality.

"To you, dear Jane, I offer the love of a cultured man andassociation with one of culture and refinement, which youmust have sorely missed in your relations with the poor ape thatthrough your girlish infatuation you married so thoughtlessly. I love you, Jane. You have but to say the word and nofurther sorrows shall afflict you--even your baby shall bereturned to you unharmed."

Outside the door Sven Anderssen paused with the noondaymeal he had been carrying to Lady Greystoke. Upon the endof his long, stringy neck his little head was cocked to oneside, his close-set eyes were half closed, his ears, soexpressive was his whole attitude of stealthy eavesdropping,seemed truly to be cocked forward--even his long, yellow,straggly moustache appeared to assume a sly droop.

As Rokoff closed his appeal, awaiting the reply he invited,the look of surprise upon Jane Clayton's face turned to oneof disgust. She fairly shuddered in the fellow's face.

"I would not have been surprised, M. Rokoff," she said,had you attempted to force me to submit to your evil desires,but that you should be so fatuous as to believe that I,wife of John Clayton, would come to you willingly, even tosave my life, I should never have imagined. I have knownyou for a scoundrel, M. Rokoff; but until now I had not takenyou for a fool."

Rokoff's eyes narrowed, and the red of mortification flushed outthe pallor of his face. He took a step toward the girl, threateningly.

"We shall see who is the fool at last," he hissed, "when I havebroken you to my will and your plebeian Yankee stubbornness hascost you all that you hold dear--even the life of your baby--for,by the bones of St. Peter, I'll forego all that I had plannedfor the brat and cut its heart out before your very eyes.You'll learn what it means to insult Nikolas Rokoff."

Jane Clayton turned wearily away.

"What is the use," she said, "of expatiating upon thedepths to which your vengeful nature can sink? You cannotmove me either by threats or deeds. My baby cannot judgeyet for himself, but I, his mother, can foresee that should ithave been given him to survive to man's estate he wouldwillingly sacrifice his life for the honour of his mother. Love him as I do, I would not purchase his life at such a price. Did I, he would execrate my memory to the day of his death."

Rokoff was now thoroughly angered because of his failureto reduce the girl to terror. He felt only hate for her, but ithad come to his diseased mind that if he could force her toaccede to his demands as the price of her life and her child's,the cup of his revenge would be filled to brimming when hecould flaunt the wife of Lord Greystoke in the capitals ofEurope as his mistress.

Again he stepped closer to her. His evil face was convulsedwith rage and desire. Like a wild beast he sprang uponher, and with his strong fingers at her throat forced herbackward upon the berth.

At the same instant the door of the cabin opened noisily. Rokoff leaped to his feet, and, turning, faced the Swede cook.

Into the fellow's usually foxy eyes had come an expressionof utter stupidity. His lower jaw drooped in vacuous harmony. He busied himself in arranging Lady Greystoke's mealupon the tiny table at one side of her cabin.

The Russian glared at him.

"What do you mean," he cried, "by entering herewithout permission? Get out!"

The cook turned his watery blue eyes upon Rokoff andsmiled vacuously.

"Ay tank it blow purty soon purty hard," he said, andthen he began rearranging the few dishes upon the little table.

"Get out of here, or I'll throw you out, you miserable blockhead!"roared Rokoff, taking a threatening step toward the Swede.

Anderssen continued to smile foolishly in his direction,but one ham-like paw slid stealthily to the handle of thelong, slim knife that protruded from the greasy cordsupporting his soiled apron.

Rokoff saw the move and stopped short in his advance. Then he turned toward Jane Clayton.

"I will give you until tomorrow," he said, "to reconsider youranswer to my offer. All will be sent ashore upon one pretextor another except you and the child, Paulvitch and myself. Then without interruption you will be able to witness thedeath of the baby."

He spoke in French that the cook might not understandthe sinister portent of his words. When he had done he bangedout of the cabin without another look at the man who hadinterrupted him in his sorry work.

When he had gone, Sven Anderssen turned toward LadyGreystoke--the idiotic expression that had masked histhoughts had fallen away, and in its place was one ofcraft and cunning.

"Hay tank Ay ban a fool," he said. "Hay ben the fool.Ay savvy Franch."

Jane Clayton looked at him in surprise.

"You understood all that he said, then?"

Anderssen grinned.

"You bat," he said.

"And you heard what was going on in here and came to protect me?"

"You bane good to me," explained the Swede. "Hay treat me likedarty dog. Ay help you, lady. You yust vait--Ay help you.Ay ban Vast Coast lots times."

"But how can you help me, Sven," she asked, "when allthese men will be against us?"

"Ay tank," said Sven Anderssen, "it blow purty soonpurty hard," and then he turned and left the cabin.

Though Jane Clayton doubted the cook's ability to be ofany material service to her, she was nevertheless deeplygrateful to him for what he already had done. The feelingthat among these enemies she had one friend brought thefirst ray of comfort that had come to lighten the burden ofher miserable apprehensions throughout the long voyage ofthe Kincaid.

She saw no more of Rokoff that day, nor of any other untilSven came with her evening meal. She tried to draw him intoconversation relative to his plans to aid her, but all that shecould get from him was his stereotyped prophecy as to thefuture state of the wind. He seemed suddenly to haverelapsed into his wonted state of dense stupidity.

However, when he was leaving her cabin a little later withthe empty dishes he whispered very low, "Leave on yourclothes an' roll up your blankets. Ay come back after youpurty soon."

He would have slipped from the room at once, but Janelaid her hand upon his sleeve.

"My baby?" she asked. "I cannot go without him."

"You do wot Ay tal you," said Anderssen, scowling. "Ay ban halpin' you, so don't you gat too fonny."

When he had gone Jane Clayton sank down upon her berthin utter bewilderment. What was she to do? Suspicions as tothe intentions of the Swede swarmed her brain. Might shenot be infinitely worse off if she gave herself into his powerthan she already was?

No, she could be no worse off in company with the devilhimself than with Nikolas Rokoff, for the devil at least borethe reputation of being a gentleman.

She swore a dozen times that she would not leave the Kincaidwithout her baby, and yet she remained clothed longpast her usual hour for retiring, and her blankets were neatlyrolled and bound with stout cord, when about midnight therecame a stealthy scratching upon the panels of her door.

Swiftly she crossed the room and drew the bolt. Softly thedoor swung open to admit the muffled figure of the Swede. On one arm he carried a bundle, evidently his blankets. His other hand was raised in a gesture commanding silence,a grimy forefinger upon his lips.

He came quite close to her.

"Carry this," he said. "Do not make some noise whenyou see it. It ban you kid."

Quick hands snatched the bundle from the cook, and hungrymother arms folded the sleeping infant to her breast,while hot tears of joy ran down her cheeks and her wholeframe shook with the emotion of the moment.

"Come!" said Anderssen. "We got no time to vaste."

He snatched up her bundle of blankets, and outside thecabin door his own as well. Then he led her to the ship's side,steadied her descent of the monkey-ladder, holding the childfor her as she climbed to the waiting boat below. A momentlater he had cut the rope that held the small boat to thesteamer's side, and, bending silently to the muffled oars,was pulling toward the black shadows up the Ugambi River.

Anderssen rowed on as though quite sure of his ground,and when after half an hour the moon broke through theclouds there was revealed upon their left the mouth of atributary running into the Ugambi. Up this narrow channelthe Swede turned the prow of the small boat.

Jane Clayton wondered if the man knew where he was bound. She did not know that in his capacity as cook he hadthat day been rowed up this very stream to a little villagewhere he had bartered with the natives for such provisionsas they had for sale, and that he had there arranged the detailsof his plan for the adventure upon which they were nowsetting forth.

Even though the moon was full, the surface of the smallriver was quite dark. The giant trees overhung its narrowbanks, meeting in a great arch above the centre of the river. Spanish moss dropped from the gracefully bending limbs,and enormous creepers clambered in riotous profusion fromthe ground to the loftiest branch, falling in curving loopsalmost to the water's placid breast.

Now and then the river's surface would be suddenly brokenahead of them by a huge crocodile, startled by the splashingof the oars, or, snorting and blowing, a family of hippos woulddive from a sandy bar to the cool, safe depths of the bottom.

From the dense jungles upon either side came the weirdnight cries of the carnivora--the maniacal voice of the hyena,the coughing grunt of the panther, the deep and awful roarof the lion. And with them strange, uncanny notes that thegirl could not ascribe to any particular night prowler--moreterrible because of their mystery.

Huddled in the stern of the boat she sat with her babystrained close to her bosom, and because of that little tender,helpless thing she was happier tonight than she had been formany a sorrow-ridden day.

Even though she knew not to what fate she was going, orhow soon that fate might overtake her, still was she happyand thankful for the moment, however brief, that she mightpress her baby tightly in her arms. She could scarce waitfor the coming of the day that she might look again upon thebright face of her little, black-eyed Jack.

Again and again she tried to strain her eyes through theblackness of the jungle night to have but a tiny peep at thosebeloved features, but only the dim outline of the baby facerewarded her efforts. Then once more she would cuddle thewarm, little bundle close to her throbbing heart.

It must have been close to three o'clock in the morningthat Anderssen brought the boat's nose to the shore before aclearing where could be dimly seen in the waning moonlighta cluster of native huts encircled by a thorn boma.

At the village gate they were admitted by a native woman,the wife of the chief whom Anderssen had paid to assist him. She took them to the chief's hut, but Anderssen said that theywould sleep without upon the ground, and so, her duty havingbeen completed, she left them to their own devices.

The Swede, after explaining in his gruff way that the hutswere doubtless filthy and vermin-ridden, spread Jane'sblankets on the ground for her, and at a little distanceunrolled his own and lay down to sleep.

It was some time before the girl could find a comfortableposition upon the hard ground, but at last, the baby in thehollow of her arm, she dropped asleep from utter exhaustion. When she awoke it was broad daylight.

About her were clustered a score of curious natives--mostly men, for among the aborigines it is the male whoowns this characteristic in its most exaggerated form. Instinctively Jane Clayton drew the baby more closely to her,though she soon saw that the blacks were far from intendingher or the child any harm.

In fact, one of them offered her a gourd of milk--a filthy,smoke-begrimed gourd, with the ancient rind of long-curdledmilk caked in layers within its neck; but the spirit of the givertouched her deeply, and her face lightened for a moment withone of those almost forgotten smiles of radiance that hadhelped to make her beauty famous both in Baltimore and London.

She took the gourd in one hand, and rather than cause thegiver pain raised it to her lips, though for the life of her shecould scarce restrain the qualm of nausea that surged throughher as the malodorous thing approached her nostrils.

It was Anderssen who came to her rescue, and taking thegourd from her, drank a portion himself, and then returnedit to the native with a gift of blue beads.

The sun was shining brightly now, and though the babystill slept, Jane could scarce restrain her impatient desire tohave at least a brief glance at the beloved face. The nativeshad withdrawn at a command from their chief, who nowstood talking with Anderssen, a little apart from her.

As she debated the wisdom of risking disturbing the child'sslumber by lifting the blanket that now protected its facefrom the sun, she noted that the cook conversed with thechief in the language of the Negro.

What a remarkable man the fellow was, indeed! She hadthought him ignorant and stupid but a short day before, andnow, within the past twenty-four hours, she had learned thathe spoke not only English but French as well, and the primitivedialect of the West Coast.

She had thought him shifty, cruel, and untrustworthy, yetin so far as she had reason to believe he had proved himselfin every way the contrary since the day before. It scarceseemed credible that he could be serving her from motivespurely chivalrous. There must be something deeper in hisintentions and plans than he had yet disclosed.

She wondered, and when she looked at him--at his close-set,shifty eyes and repulsive features, she shuddered, for shewas convinced that no lofty characteristics could be hidbehind so foul an exterior.

As she was thinking of these things the while she debatedthe wisdom of uncovering the baby's face, there came a littlegrunt from the wee bundle in her lap, and then a gurglingcoo that set her heart in raptures.

The baby was awake! Now she might feast her eyes upon him.

Quickly she snatched the blanket from before the infant'sface; Anderssen was looking at her as she did so.

He saw her stagger to her feet, holding the baby at arm'slength from her, her eyes glued in horror upon the littlechubby face and twinkling eyes.

Then he heard her piteous cry as her knees gave beneathher, and she sank to the ground in a swoon.