As Tarzan let the pebbles from the recovered pouch runthrough his fingers, his thoughts returned to the pileof yellow ingots about which the Arabs and theAbyssinians had waged their relentless battle.

What was there in common between that pile of dirtymetal and the beautiful, sparkling pebbles that hadformerly been in his pouch? What was the metal?From whence had it come? What was that tantalizinghalf-conviction which seemed to demand the recognition ofhis memory that the yellow pile for which these men hadfought and died had been intimately connected with hispast--that it had been his?

What had been his past? He shook his head. Vaguely thememory of his apish childhood passed slowly in review--then came a strangely tangled mass of faces, figuresand events which seemed to have no relation to Tarzanof the Apes, and yet which were, even in theirfragmentary form, familiar.

Slowly and painfully, recollection was attempting toreassert itself, the hurt brain was mending, as thecause of its recent failure to function was beingslowly absorbed or removed by the healing processes ofperfect circulation.

The people who now passed before his mind's eye for thefirst time in weeks wore familiar faces; but yet hecould neither place them in the niches they had oncefilled in his past life, nor call them by name. Onewas a fair she, and it was her face which most oftenmoved through the tangled recollections of hisconvalescing brain. Who was she? What had she been toTarzan of the Apes? He seemed to see her about the veryspot upon which the pile of gold had been unearthed bythe Abyssinians; but the surroundings were vastlydifferent from those which now obtained.

There was a building--there were many buildings--andthere were hedges, fences, and flowers. Tarzanpuckered his brow in puzzled study of the wonderfulproblem. For an instant he seemed to grasp the wholeof a true explanation, and then, just as success waswithin his grasp, the picture faded into a jungle scenewhere a naked, white youth danced in company with aband of hairy, primordial ape-things.

Tarzan shook his head and sighed. Why was it that hecould not recollect? At least he was sure that in someway the pile of gold, the place where it lay, thesubtle aroma of the elusive she he had been pursuing,the memory figure of the white woman, and he himself,were inextricably connected by the ties of a forgottenpast.

If the woman belonged there, what better place tosearch or await her than the very spot which his brokenrecollections seemed to assign to her? It was worthtrying. Tarzan slipped the thong of the empty pouchover his shoulder and started off through the trees inthe direction of the plain.

At the outskirts of the forest he met the Arabsreturning in search of Achmet Zek. Hiding, he let thempass, and then resumed his way toward the charred ruinsof the home he had been almost upon the point ofrecalling to his memory.

His journey across the plain was interrupted by thediscovery of a small herd of antelope in a littleswale, where the cover and the wind were well combinedto make stalking easy. A fat yearling rewarded a halfhour of stealthy creeping and a sudden, savage rush,and it was late in the afternoon when the ape-mansettled himself upon his haunches beside his kill toenjoy the fruits of his skill, his cunning, and hisprowess.

His hunger satisfied, thirst next claimed hisattention. The river lured him by the shortest pathtoward its refreshing waters, and when he had drunk,night already had fallen and he was some half mile ormore down stream from the point where he had seen thepile of yellow ingots, and where he hoped to meet thememory woman, or find some clew to her whereabouts orher identity.

To the jungle bred, time is usually a matter of smallmoment, and haste, except when engendered by terror,by rage, or by hunger, is distasteful. Today was gone.Therefore tomorrow, of which there was an infiniteprocession, would answer admirably for Tarzan's furtherquest. And, besides, the ape-man was tired and wouldsleep.

A tree afforded him the safety, seclusion and comfortsof a well-appointed bedchamber, and to the chorus ofthe hunters and the hunted of the wild river bank hesoon dropped off into deep slumber.

Morning found him both hungry and thirsty again, anddropping from his tree he made his way to the drinkingplace at the river's edge. There he found Numa, thelion, ahead of him. The big fellow was lapping thewater greedily, and at the approach of Tarzan along thetrail in his rear, he raised his head, and turning hisgaze backward across his maned shoulders glared at theintruder. A low growl of warning rumbled from histhroat; but Tarzan, guessing that the beast had butjust quitted his kill and was well filled, merely madea slight detour and continued to the river, where hestopped a few yards above the tawny cat, and droppingupon his hands and knees plunged his face into the coolwater. For a moment the lion continued to eye the man;then he resumed his drinking, and man and beastquenched their thirst side by side each apparentlyoblivious of the other's presence.

Numa was the first to finish. Raising his head, hegazed across the river for a few minutes with thatstony fixity of attention which is a characteristic ofhis kind. But for the ruffling of his black mane tothe touch of the passing breeze he might have beenwrought from golden bronze, so motionless, sostatuesque his pose.

A deep sigh from the cavernous lungs dispelled theillusion. The mighty head swung slowly around untilthe yellow eyes rested upon the man. The bristled lipcurved upward, exposing yellow fangs. Another warninggrowl vibrated the heavy jowls, and the king of beaststurned majestically about and paced slowly up the trailinto the dense reeds.

Tarzan of the Apes drank on, but from the corners ofhis gray eyes he watched the great brute's every moveuntil he had disappeared from view, and, after, hiskeen ears marked the movements of the carnivore.

A plunge in the river was followed by a scant breakfastof eggs which chance discovered to him, and then he setoff up river toward the ruins of the bungalow where thegolden ingots had marked the center of yesterday'sbattle.

And when he came upon the spot, great was his surpriseand consternation, for the yellow metal haddisappeared. The earth, trampled by the feet of horsesand men, gave no clew. It was as though the ingots hadevaporated into thin air.

The ape-man was at a loss to know where to turn or whatnext to do. There was no sign of any spoor which mightdenote that the she had been here. The metal was gone,and if there was any connection between the she and themetal it seemed useless to wait for her now that thelatter had been removed elsewhere.

Everything seemed to elude him--the pretty pebbles, theyellow metal, the she, his memory. Tarzan wasdisgusted. He would go back into the jungle and lookfor Chulk, and so he turned his steps once more towardthe forest. He moved rapidly, swinging across theplain in a long, easy trot, and at the edge of theforest, taking to the trees with the agility and speedof a small monkey.

His direction was aimless--he merely raced on and onthrough the jungle, the joy of unfettered action hisprincipal urge, with the hope of stumbling upon someclew to Chulk or the she, a secondary incentive.

For two days he roamed about, killing, eating, drinkingand sleeping wherever inclination and the means toindulge it occurred simultaneously. It was upon themorning of the third day that the scent spoor of horseand man were wafted faintly to his nostrils. Instantlyhe altered his course to glide silently through thebranches in the direction from which the scent came.

It was not long before he came upon a solitary horsemanriding toward the east. Instantly his eyes confirmedwhat his nose had previously suspected--the rider washe who had stolen his pretty pebbles. The light ofrage flared suddenly in the gray eyes as the ape-mandropped lower among the branches until he moved almostdirectly above the unconscious Werper.

There was a quick leap, and the Belgian felt a heavybody hurtle onto the rump of his terror-stricken mount.The horse, snorting, leaped forward. Giant armsencircled the rider, and in the twinkling of an eye hewas dragged from his saddle to find himself lying inthe narrow trail with a naked, white giant kneelingupon his breast.

Recognition came to Werper with the first glance at hiscaptor's face, and a pallor of fear overspread hisfeatures. Strong fingers were at his throat, fingersof steel. He tried to cry out, to plead for his life;but the cruel fingers denied him speech, as they wereas surely denying him life.

"The pretty pebbles?" cried the man upon his breast."What did you with the pretty pebbles--with Tarzan'spretty pebbles?"

The fingers relaxed to permit a reply. For some timeWerper could only choke and cough--at last he regainedthe powers of speech.

"Achmet Zek, the Arab, stole them from me," he cried;"he made me give up the pouch and the pebbles."

"I saw all that," replied Tarzan; "but the pebbles inthe pouch were not the pebbles of Tarzan--they wereonly such pebbles as fill the bottoms of the rivers,and the shelving banks beside them. Even the Arabwould not have them, for he threw them away in angerwhen he had looked upon them. It is my pretty pebblesthat I want--where are they?"

"I do not know, I do not know," cried Werper. "I gavethem to Achmet Zek or he would have killed me. A fewminutes later he followed me along the trail to slayme, although he had promised to molest me no further,and I shot and killed him; but the pouch was not uponhis person and though I searched about the jungle forsome time I could not find it."

"I found it, I tell you," growled Tarzan, "and I alsofound the pebbles which Achmet Zek had thrown away indisgust. They were not Tarzan's pebbles. You havehidden them! Tell me where they are or I will killyou," and the brown fingers of the ape-man closed alittle tighter upon the throat of his victim.

Werper struggled to free himself. "My God, LordGreystoke," he managed to scream, "would you commitmurder for a handful of stones?"

The fingers at his throat relaxed, a puzzled, far-awayexpression softened the gray eyes.

"Lord Greystoke!" repeated the ape-man. "LordGreystoke! Who is Lord Greystoke? Where have I heardthat name before?"

"Why man, you are Lord Greystoke," cried the Belgian."You were injured by a falling rock when the earthquakeshattered the passage to the underground chamber towhich you and your black Waziri had come to fetchgolden ingots back to your bungalow. The blowshattered your memory. You are John Clayton, LordGreystoke--don't you remember?"

"John Clayton, Lord Greystoke!" repeated Tarzan. Thenfor a moment he was silent. Presently his hand wentfalteringly to his forehead, an expression ofwonderment filled his eyes--of wonderment and suddenunderstanding. The forgotten name had reawakened thereturning memory that had been struggling to reassertitself. The ape-man relinquished his grasp upon thethroat of the Belgian, and leaped to his feet.

"God!" he cried, and then, "Jane!" Suddenly he turnedtoward Werper. "My wife?" he asked. "What has becomeof her? The farm is in ruins. You know. You have hadsomething to do with all this. You followed me toOpar, you stole the jewels which I thought but prettypebbles. You are a crook! Do not try to tell me thatyou are not."

"He is worse than a crook," said a quiet voice closebehind them.

Tarzan turned in astonishment to see a tall man inuniform standing in the trail a few paces from him.Back of the man were a number of black soldiers in theuniform of the Congo Free State.

"He is a murderer, Monsieur," continued the officer."I have followed him for a long time to take him backto stand trial for the killing of his superiorofficer."

Werper was upon his feet now, gazing, white andtrembling, at the fate which had overtaken him even inthe fastness of the labyrinthine jungle. Instinctivelyhe turned to flee; but Tarzan of the Apes reached out astrong hand and grasped him by the shoulder.

"Wait!" said the ape-man to his captive. "Thisgentleman wishes you, and so do I. When I am throughwith you, he may have you. Tell me what has become ofmy wife."

The Belgian officer eyed the almost naked, white giantwith curiosity. He noted the strange contrast ofprimitive weapons and apparel, and the easy, fluentFrench which the man spoke. The former denoted thelowest, the latter the highest type of culture. Hecould not quite determine the social status of thisstrange creature; but he knew that he did not relishthe easy assurance with which the fellow presumed todictate when he might take possession of the prisoner.

"Pardon me," he said, stepping forward and placing hishand on Werper's other shoulder; "but this gentleman ismy prisoner. He must come with me."

"When I am through with him," replied Tarzan, quietly.

The officer turned and beckoned to the soldiersstanding in the trail behind him. A company ofuniformed blacks stepped quickly forward and pushingpast the three, surrounded the ape-man and his captive.

"Both the law and the power to enforce it are upon myside," announced the officer. "Let us have no trouble.If you have a grievance against this man you may returnwith me and enter your charge regularly before anauthorized tribunal."

"Your legal rights are not above suspicion, my friend,"replied Tarzan, "and your power to enforce yourcommands are only apparent--not real. You havepresumed to enter British territory with an armedforce. Where is your authority for this invasion?Where are the extradition papers which warrant thearrest of this man? And what assurance have you that Icannot bring an armed force about you that will preventyour return to the Congo Free State?"

The Belgian lost his temper. "I have no disposition toargue with a naked savage," he cried. "Unless you wishto be hurt you will not interfere with me. Take theprisoner, Sergeant!"

Werper raised his lips close to Tarzan's ear. "Keep mefrom them, and I can show you the very spot where I sawyour wife last night," he whispered. "She cannot befar from here at this very minute."

The soldiers, following the signal from their sergeant,closed in to seize Werper. Tarzan grabbed the Belgianabout the waist, and bearing him beneath his arm as hemight have borne a sack of flour, leaped forward in anattempt to break through the cordon. His right fistcaught the nearest soldier upon the jaw and sent himhurtling backward upon his fellows. Clubbed rifleswere torn from the hands of those who barred his way,and right and left the black soldiers stumbled aside inthe face of the ape-man's savage break for liberty.

So completely did the blacks surround the two that theydared not fire for fear of hitting one of their ownnumber, and Tarzan was already through them and uponthe point of dodging into the concealing mazes of thejungle when one who had sneaked upon him from behindstruck him a heavy blow upon the head with a rifle.

In an instant the ape-man was down and a dozen blacksoldiers were upon his back. When he regainedconsciousness he found himself securely bound, as wasWerper also. The Belgian officer, success havingcrowned his efforts, was in good humor, and inclined tochaff his prisoners about the ease with which they hadbeen captured; but from Tarzan of the Apes he elicitedno response. Werper, however, was voluble in hisprotests. He explained that Tarzan was an Englishlord; but the officer only laughed at the assertion,and advised his prisoner to save his breath for hisdefense in court.

As soon as Tarzan regained his senses and it was foundthat he was not seriously injured, the prisoners werehastened into line and the return march toward theCongo Free State boundary commenced.

Toward evening the column halted beside a stream, madecamp and prepared the evening meal. From the thickfoliage of the nearby jungle a pair of fierce eyeswatched the activities of the uniformed blacks withsilent intensity and curiosity. From beneath beetlingbrows the creature saw the boma constructed, the firesbuilt, and the supper prepared.

Tarzan and Werper had been lying bound behind a smallpile of knapsacks from the time that the company hadhalted; but with the preparation of the meal completed,their guard ordered them to rise and come forward toone of the fires where their hands would be unfetteredthat they might eat.

As the giant ape-man rose, a startled expression ofrecognition entered the eyes of the watcher in thejungle, and a low guttural broke from the savage lips.Instantly Tarzan was alert, but the answering growldied upon his lips, suppressed by the fear that itmight arouse the suspicions of the soldiers.

Suddenly an inspiration came to him. He turned towardWerper.

"I am going to speak to you in a loud voice and in atongue which you do not understand. Appear to listenintently to what I say, and occasionally mumblesomething as though replying in the same language--ourescape may hinge upon the success of your efforts."

Werper nodded in assent and understanding, andimmediately there broke from the lips of his companiona strange jargon which might have been compared withequal propriety to the barking and growling of a dogand the chattering of monkeys.

The nearer soldiers looked in surprise at the ape-man.Some of them laughed, while others drew away in evidentsuperstitious fear. The officer approached theprisoners while Tarzan was still jabbering, and haltedbehind them, listening in perplexed interest. WhenWerper mumbled some ridiculous jargon in reply hiscuriosity broke bounds, and he stepped forward,demanding to know what language it was that they spoke.

Tarzan had gauged the measure of the man's culture fromthe nature and quality of his conversation during themarch, and he rested the success of his reply upon theestimate he had made.

"Greek," he explained.

"Oh, I thought it was Greek," replied the officer; "butit has been so many years since I studied it that I wasnot sure. In future, however, I will thank you tospeak in a language which I am more familiar with."

Werper turned his head to hide a grin, whispering toTarzan: "It was Greek to him all right--and to me, too."

But one of the black soldiers mumbled in a low voice toa companion: "I have heard those sounds before--once atnight when I was lost in the jungle, I heard the hairymen of the trees talking among themselves, and theirwords were like the words of this white man. I wishthat we had not found him. He is not a man at all--heis a bad spirit, and we shall have bad luck if we donot let him go," and the fellow rolled his eyesfearfully toward the jungle.

His companion laughed nervously, and moved away, torepeat the conversation, with variations andexaggerations, to others of the black soldiery, so thatit was not long before a frightful tale of black magicand sudden death was woven about the giant prisoner,and had gone the rounds of the camp.

And deep in the gloomy jungle amidst the darkeningshadows of the falling night a hairy, manlike creatureswung swiftly southward upon some secret mission of hisown.