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a vicious cut clove the black warrior's skull, and the
corpse toppled backward almost upon Tarzan.
As the Abyssinian tumbled from his saddle the
possibility of escape which was represented by the
riderless horse electrified the ape-man to instant
action. Before the frightened beast could gather
himself for flight a naked giant was astride his back.
A strong hand had grasped his bridle rein, and the
surprised Arab discovered a new foe in the saddle of
him, whom he had slain.
But this enemy wielded no sword, and his spear and bow
remained upon his back. The Arab, recovered from his
first surprise, dashed in with raised sword to
annihilate this presumptuous stranger. He aimed a
mighty blow at the ape-man's head, a blow which swung
harmlessly through thin air as Tarzan ducked from its
path, and then the Arab felt the other's horse brushing
his leg, a great arm shot out and encircled his waist,
and before he could recover himself he was dragged from
his saddle, and forming a shield for his antagonist was
borne at a mad run straight through the encircling
ranks of his fellows.
Just beyond them he was tossed aside upon the ground,
and the last he saw of his strange foeman the latter
was galloping off across the plain in the direction of
the forest at its farther edge.
For another hour the battle raged nor did it cease
until the last of the Abyssinians lay dead upon the
ground, or had galloped off toward the north in flight.
But a handful of men escaped, among them Abdul Mourak.
The victorious raiders collected about the pile of
golden ingots which the Abyssinians had uncovered, and
there awaited the return of their leader. Their
exultation was slightly tempered by the glimpse they
had had of the strange apparition of the naked white
man galloping away upon the horse of one of their
foemen and carrying a companion who was now among them
expatiating upon the superhuman strength of the ape-man.
None of them there but was familiar with the name
and fame of Tarzan of the Apes, and the fact that they
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had recognized the white giant as the ferocious enemy
of the wrongdoers of the jungle, added to their terror,
for they had been assured that Tarzan was dead.
Naturally superstitious, they fully believed that they
had seen the disembodied spirit of the dead man, and
now they cast fearful glances about them in expectation
of the ghost's early return to the scene of the ruin
they had inflicted upon him during their recent raid
upon his home, and discussed in affrighted whispers the
probable nature of the vengeance which the spirit would
inflict upon them should he return to find them in
possession of his gold.
As they conversed their terror grew, while from the
concealment of the reeds along the river below them a
small party of naked, black warriors watched their
every move. From the heights beyond the river these
black men had heard the noise of the conflict, and
creeping warily down to the stream had forded it and
advanced through the reeds until they were in a
position to watch every move of the combatants.
For a half hour the raiders awaited Achmet Zek's
return, their fear of the earlier return of the ghost
of Tarzan constantly undermining their loyalty to and
fear of their chief. Finally one among them voiced the
desires of all when he announced that he intended
riding forth toward the forest in search of Achmet Zek.
Instantly every man of them sprang to his mount.
"The gold will be safe here," cried one. "We have
killed the Abyssinians and there are no others to carry
it away. Let us ride in search of Achmet Zek!"
And a moment later, amidst a cloud of dust, the raiders
were galloping madly across the plain, and out from the
concealment of the reeds along the river, crept a party
of black warriors toward the spot where the golden
ingots of Opar lay piled on the ground.
Werper had still been in advance of Achmet Zek when he
reached the forest; but the latter, better mounted, was
gaining upon him. Riding with the reckless courage of
desperation the Belgian urged his mount to greater
speed even within the narrow confines of the winding,
game trail that the beast was following.
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Behind him he could hear the voice of Achmet Zek crying
to him to halt; but Werper only dug the spurs deeper
into the bleeding sides of his panting mount. Two
hundred yards within the forest a broken branch lay
across the trail. It was a small thing that a horse
might ordinarily take in his natural stride without
noticing its presence; but Werper's horse was jaded,
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