ar sped, singing, close above his shoulder, the occurrence
suggested a use for the rough and jagged missiles which lay about him
in such profusion. Many of the pieces were large, weighing twenty and
thirty pounds, and some even as much as fifty. Picking up one of the
larger Bulan raised it high above his head, and then hurled it down
amongst the upclimbing warriors. In an instant pandemonium reigned,
for the heavy boulder had mowed down a score of the pursuers, breaking
arms and legs in its meteoric descent.

Missile after missile Bulan rained down upon the struggling, howling
Dyaks, until, seized by panic, they turned and fled incontinently down
into the depths of the canyon and back along the narrow trail they had
come, and then superstitious fear completed the rout that the flying
rocks had started, for one whispered to another that this was the
terrible Bulan and that he had but lured them on into the hills that he
might call forth all his demons and destroy them.

For a moment Bulan stood watching the retreating savages, a smile upon
his lips, and then as the sudden equatorial dawn burst forth he turned
to face the girl.

As Virginia Maxon saw the fine features of the giant where she had
expected to find the grotesque and hideous lineaments of a monster, she
gave a quick little cry of pleasure and relief.

"Thank God!" she cried fervently. "Thank God that you are a man--I
thought that I was in the clutches of the hideous and soulless monster,
Number Thirteen."

The smile upon the young man's face died. An expression of pain, and
hopelessness, and sorrow swept across his features. The girl saw the
change, and wondered, but how could she guess the grievous wound her
words had inflicted?

15

TOO LATE

For a moment the two stood in silence; Bulan tortured by thoughts of
the bitter humiliation that he must suffer when the girl should learn
his identity; Virginia wondering at the sad lines that had come into
the young man's face, and at his silence.

It was the girl who first spoke. "Who are you," she asked, "to whom I
owe my safety?"

The man hesitated. To speak aught than the truth had never occurred to
him during his brief existence. He scarcely knew how to lie. To him a
question demanded but one manner of reply--the facts. But never before
had he had to face a question where so much depended upon his answer.
He tried to form the bitter, galling words; but a vision of that lovely
face s