The girl was silent for a moment, as though the suggestion had aroused a train of thought she had not before considered. "That is true, isn't it?" she remarked, presently. "We shan't see each other any more—but not for always. I'm sure you'll stop and Visit me in London. Isn't it odd what old friends we seem? And yet we only met two days ago. Or, maybe, it doesn't seem that way to you. You see I was so long without seeing a human being of my own world that you were quite like a long lost brother, when you came along so unexpectedly."
"I have the same feeling," he said—"as though I had known you forever—and—" he hesitated, "—as though I could never get along without you in the future." He flushed a little as he spoke those last words.
The girl looked up at him with a quick smile—a sympathetic, understanding smile. "It was nice of you to say that," she said. "Why it sounded almost like a declaration," she added, with a gay, friendly laugh.
He reached across the little camp table and laid a hand upon hers. "Accept it as such," he said. "I'm not very good at saying things—like that."
"Let's not be serious," she begged. "Really, we scarcely know each other, after all."
"I have known you always," he replied. "I think we were amoebas together before the first Cambrian dawn."
"Now you've compromised me," she cried, laughingly, "for I'm sure there were no chaperons way back there. I hope that you were a proper amoeba. You didn't kiss me, did you?"
"Unfortunately for me amoebas have no mouths," he said, "but I've been profiting by several millions of years of evolution just to remedy that defect."
"Let's be amoebas again," she suggested.
"No," he said, "for then I couldn't tell you that I—I—" He choked and flushed.
"Please! Please, don't tell me," she cried. "We're such ripping friends —don't spoil it."
"Would it spoil it?" he asked.
"I don't know. It might. I am afraid."
"Can't I ever tell you?" he asked.
"Perhaps, some day," she said.
A sudden burst of distant rifle fire interrupted them. The blacks in the camp were instantly alert. Many of them sprang to their feet, and all were listening intently to the sounds of this mysterious engagement between armed men.
The man and the girl heard the headman speaking to his fellows in some African dialect. His manner showed no excitement, his tones were low but clear. It was evident that he was issuing instructions. The men went quickly to their shelters, and a moment later Lady Barbara saw the peaceful camp transformed. Every man was armed now. As by magic a modern rifle and a bandoleer of cartridges were in the possession of each black. White feathered headdresses were being adjusted and war paint applied to glossy hides.
Smith approached the headman. "What is the matter?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I do not know, bwana," replied the black; "but we prepare."
"Is there any danger?" continued the white.
The headman straightened to his full, impressive height. "Are we not here?" he asked.
Jezebel and the "Gunner" were walking slowly in the direction of the distant water bole and the cached boar meat, following the bottom of a dip that was the mouth of a small canyon that led up into the hills.
They were stiff and lame and very tired; and the wound on the "Gunner's" head pained; but, notwithstanding, they were happy as, hand in hand, they dragged their weary feet toward water and food.
"Geeze, kid," said Danny, "it sure is a funny world. Just think, if I hadn't met old Smithy on board that ship me and you wouldn't never have met up. It all started from that," but then Danny knew nothing of Angustus the Ephesian.
"I got a few grand salted away, kid, and when we get out of this mess we'll go somewhere where nobody doesn't know me and I'll start over again. Get myself a garage or a filling station, and we'll have a little fiat. Geeze, it's goin' to be great showin' you things. You don't know what you ain't seen——movies and railroads and boats! Geeze! You ain't seen nothin' and nobody ain't going to show you nothin', only me."
"Yes, Danny," said Jezebel, "it's going to be ripping," and she squeezed his hand.
Just then they were startled by the sound of rifle fire ahead.
"What was that?" asked Jezebel.
"It sounded like the Valentine Massacre," said Danny, "but I guess it's them toughs from the village. We better hide, kid." He drew her toward some low bushes; and there they lay down, listening to the shouts and shots that came down to them from where Tarzan fought for his life and liberty with the odds a hundred to one against him.
Alter awhile the din ceased, and a little later the two heard the thudding of many galloping hoofs. The sound increased in volume as it drew nearer, and Danny and Jezebel tried to make themselves as small as possible beneath the little bush in the inadequate concealment of which they were hiding.
At a thundering gallop the shiftas crossed the swale just above them, and all but a few had passed when one of the stragglers discovered them. His shout, which attracted the attention of others, was carried forward until it reached the new chief, and presently the entire band had circled back to learn what their fellow had discovered.
Poor "Gunner"! Poor Jezebel! Their happiness had been short lived. Their recapture was effected with humiliating ease. Broken and dejected, they were soon on their way to the village under escort of two black ruffians.
Bound, hands and feet, they were thrown into the hut formerly occupied by Capietro and left without food or water upon the pile of dirty rugs and clothing that littered the floor.
Beside them lay the corpse of the Italian which his followers, in their haste to overtake his slayer, had not taken the time to remove. It lay upon its back, the dead eyes staring upward.
Never before in his life had the spirits of Danny Patrick sunk so low, for the very reason, perhaps, that never in his life had they risen so high as during the brief interlude of happiness he had enjoyed following his reunion with Jezebel. Now he saw no hope ahead, for, with the two white men eliminated, he feared that he might not even be able to dicker with these ignorant black men for the ransom that he would gladly pay to free Jezebel and himself.
"There goes the garage, the filling station, and the flat," he said, lugubriously.
"Where?" asked Jezebel.
"Flooie," explained Danny.
"But you are here with me," said the golden one; "so I do not care what else there is."
"That's nice, kid; but I ain't much help, all tied up like a Christmas present. They sure picked out a swell bed for me—feels like I was lyin' on a piece of the kitchen stove." He rolled himself to one side and nearer Jezebel. "That's better," he said, "but I wonder what was that thing I was parked on."
"Maybe your friend will come and take us away," suggested Jezebel.
"Who, Smithy? What would he take us with—that dinky toy pistol of his?"
"I was thinking of the other that you told me about."
"Oh, that Tarzan guy! Say kid, if he knew we was here he'd walk in and push all these nutty dumps over with one mitt and kick the whole gang over the back fence. Geeze, you bet I wish he was here. There is one big shot, and I don't mean maybe."
In a hut on the edge of the village was the answer to the "Gunner's" wish, bound hand and foot, as was the "Gunner," and, apparently, equally helpless. Constantly the ape-man was working on the thongs that confined his wrists —twisting, tugging, pulling.
The long day wore on and never did the giant captive cease his efforts to escape; the thongs were heavy and securely tied, yet little by little he felt that they were loosening.
Towards evening the new chief returned with the party that had been searching for Stabutch. They had not found him; but scouts had located the camp of Lord Passmore, and now the shiftaswere discussing plans for attacking it on the morrow.