the
matter of the ransom at least. Purposely he hesitated and haggled over
the amount, but Paulvitch was obdurate. Finally the ape-man wrote out
his cheque for a larger sum than stood to his credit at the bank.

As he turned to hand the worthless slip of paper to the Russian his
glance chanced to pass across the starboard bow of the Kincaid. To his
surprise he saw that the ship lay within a few hundred yards of land.
Almost down to the water's edge ran a dense tropical jungle, and behind
was higher land clothed in forest.

Paulvitch noted the direction of his gaze.

"You are to be set at liberty here," he said.

Tarzan's plan for immediate physical revenge upon the Russian vanished.
He thought the land before him the mainland of Africa, and he knew that
should they liberate him here he could doubtless find his way to
civilization with comparative ease.

Paulvitch took the cheque.

"Remove your clothing," he said to the ape-man. "Here you will not
need it."

Tarzan demurred.

Paulvitch pointed to the armed sailors. Then the Englishman slowly
divested himself of his clothing.

A boat was lowered, and, still heavily guarded, the ape-man was rowed
ashore. Half an hour later the sailors had returned to the Kincaid,
and the steamer was slowly getting under way.

As Tarzan stood upon the narrow strip of beach watching the departure
of the vessel he saw a figure appear at the rail and call aloud to
attract his attention.

The ape-man had been about to read a note that one of the sailors had
handed him as the small boat that bore him to the shore was on the
point of returning to the steamer, but at the hail from the vessel's
deck he looked up.

He saw a black-bearded man who laughed at him in derision as he held
high above his head the figure of a little child. Tarzan half started
as though to rush through the surf and strike out for the already
moving steamer; but realizing the futility of so rash an act he halted
at the water's edge.

Thus he stood, his gaze riveted upon the Kincaid until it disappeared
beyond a projecting promontory of the coast.

From the jungle at his back fierce bloodshot eyes glared from beneath
shaggy overhanging brows upon him.

Little monkeys in the tree-tops chattered and scolded, and from the
distance of the inland forest came the scream of a leopard.

But still John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, stood deaf and unseeing,
suffering the pangs of keen regret for the opportunity