The ape-man moved swiftly along the scent spoor that had attracted his attention. His sensitive nostrils told him it was the scent of two white men. He sought in vain to detect the spoor of a woman, but there was none— if the two men were Brown and Tibbs, then Jane was no longer with them.
What had become of her? The man's jaw set grimly. That information he would get from Brown before he killed him.
A human life meant no more to Tarzan of the Apes than that of any other creature. He never took life wantonly, but he could kill a bad man with less compunction than he might feel in taking the life of a bad lion.
Any living thing that harmed his mate or threatened her with harm he could even find a species of grim pleasure in killing, and Sborov had convinced him that Brown meant harm to Jane if he had not already harmed her.
The man's statement that Jane and Brown had run away together had not carried the conviction that the implication might have provoked, so sure was the Lord of the Jungle of the loyalty of his mate. Her intentions and her voluntary acts he never doubted nor questioned.
What were his thoughts as he swung along the trail of the two unsuspecting men? That inscrutable face gave no suggestion of what passed in the savage mind, but they must have been grim and terrible thoughts of revenge.
Rapidly the scent of his quarry grew stronger as the distance that separated them grew shorter.
Now he went more slowly; and, if possible, even more silently. He moved as soundlessly as his own shadow as he came at last in sight of two men trudging wearily along the trail beneath him.
It was they; he could not mistake them—the small Englishman, the big American. He paid little attention to Tibbs, but his eyes never left the figure of the aviator. Stealthily he stalked, as the lion stalks his prey.
He was quite close above them. Easily now at any moment he could launch himself down upon his victim.
Tibbs mopped the streaming perspiration from his forehead and out of his eyes. "Whew!" he sighed. "Hit all seems so bloody useless. Hit's like lookin' for a needle in a hay stack. We won't never find her anyway. Let's stop and rest. I'm jolly well done in."
"I know how you feel, but we got to keep on lookin' though. We might find her. The more I think about it, the less I think Sborov got away with Lady Greystoke."
"What's made you change your mind?" demanded Tibbs. "Hi thought you was sure he had."
"Well, in the first place, she was armed; and she had the guts to defend herself. He ain't got no guts at all."
"'E 'ad enough to murder his poor wife," objected Tibbs.
"He sneaked up on her in the dark while she was asleep," sneered Brown. "That didn't take no guts."
"But 'ow about Annette?"
Brown shook his head. "I don't know. I can't make it out. Of course, there was a good reason for his wanting to kill Annette. She had the evidence against him—she knew too much; and she wasn't armed.
"But what gets me is the way her footprints disappeared, just like she'd dissolved in thin air. If his footprints had been there too, and gone on, I'd have thought he picked her up and carried her into the jungle to finish her; but hers were all alone."
They had stopped now while Tibbs rested. The ape-man crouched above them, listening. He missed no word, but what effect they had upon him was not revealed by any change of expression.
"But 'e couldn't 'ave picked 'er up and carried her hoff and her not scream," argued Tibbs. "That would have woke some of us."
"She might have been too scared to scream," explained Brown. "Annette was awful scared of him."
"Lady Greystoke wasn't scared of him. Why didn't she call for help?"
"Lady Greystoke wasn't scared of nothing. There was some dame, Tibbs."
"Hi quite agree with you," replied the Englishman. "Lady Greystoke was a most extraordinary person. Hi 'opes as how we find her."
"Yes, and I hope we find Annette. I can't believe she is dead, somehow." The note of yearning in the aviator's voice was not lost on the silent listener above.
"You was rather soft on Annette, wasn't you?" said Tibbs, sympathetically.
"Plenty," admitted Brown, "and that louse, Sborov, told her I was tryin' to make Lady Greystoke. Hell! Can you picture a English noblewoman falling for me?"
"If you'll pardon my saying so, I can't," admitted Tibbs, candidly.
"No more can I. She was a swell dame, but Annette was the only girl I ever seen that had me ga-ga. I'd give—well, all I ain't got to know for sure what became of her."
Softly the ape-man dropped to the trail behind the two men.
"I think I know," he said.
At the sound of his voice they wheeled suddenly and faced him, surprise written large upon the face of each.
"Who the devil are you and where did you come from?" demanded Brown, while Tibbs stood with his lower lip dropped, staring wide- eyed at the strange figure of the ape-man. "And what do you think you know?" concluded the American.
"I think I know how your two women disappeared."
"Say," exclaimed Brown, "what are you, anyway? This country's got me nuts —people disappearing and you jumping out of thin air like a spook. Are you a friend or what?"
"Friend," replied Tarzan.
"What you runnin' around undressed for?" demanded Brown. "Ain't you got no clothes, or ain't you got no sense?"
"I am Tarzan of the Apes."
"Yeah? Well, I'm glad to meet you, Tarzan; I'm Napoleon. But spill what you know about Annette—about both the dames. What got 'em? Was it Sborov? But of course you don't know nothin' about Sborov."
"I know about Sborov," replied Tarzan. "I know about the accident that wrecked your plane. I know the Princess Sborov was murdered. I think I know what happened to Lady Greystoke and Annette."
Brown looked puzzled. "I don't know how you got hep to all this, but you know plenty. Now tell me what happened to the two dames."
"The Kavuru got them. You are in Kavuru country."
"What are Kavuru?" demanded Brown.
"A tribe of savage white men. They make a practice of stealing women, presumably for use in some religious rite."
"Where do they hang out?"
"I don't know. I was looking for their village when I heard about the accident to your ship. I believe I can find it soon. It lies in a very wild country. The Kavuru have secrets they wish to guard; so no one is allowed to approach their village."
"What secrets?" inquired Brown.
"They are believed to have discovered some sort of an elixir of life, something that will make old people young again."
Brown whistled. "So that's it? They were the people we were looking for."
"You were looking for the Kavuru?" asked Tarzan, incredulously.
"The old dame was looking for the formula for that elixir stuff," explained Brown, "and so am I, now that she is dead—someone has to carry on, you know," he added rather lamely. "But say, how did you hear of the accident to the ship? How could you hear about it? We ain't seen or talked to no one." Suddenly Brown ceased speaking. His face darkened in anger.
"Sborov!" he exclaimed.
The prince, rounding a bend in the trail, halted when he saw Brown. The American started toward him, menacingly, an oath on his lips.
Sborov turned to run. "Stop him!" he screamed to Tarzan. "You promised you wouldn't let him harm me."
The ape-man sprang after Brown and seized him by the arm. "Stop!" he commanded. "I promised the man."
Brown attempted to wrench himself free. "Let me go, you fool," he growled. "Mind your own business." Then he aimed a heavy blow at Tarzan's jaw with his free hand. The ape-man ducked, and the clenched fist only grazed his cheek. The shadow of a grim smile touched his lips as he lifted the American above his head and shook him; then he tossed him into the thick underbrush that bordered the trail.