there were no other creatures, brute or human, upon
the island large enough to have coped even for an instant with the
ferocious brutality of the dead monster, except--von Horn's brain came
to a sudden halt at the thought. Could it be? There seemed no other
explanation. Virginia Maxon had been rescued from one soulless
monstrosity to fall into the hands of another equally irresponsible and
terrifying.

Others then must have escaped from the campong. Von Horn loosened his
guns in their holsters, and took a fresh grip upon his bull whip as he
urged Sing forward upon the trail. He wondered which one it was, but
not once did it occur to him that the latest result of Professor
Maxon's experiments could be the rescuer of Virginia Maxon. In his
mind he could see only the repulsive features of one of the others.

Quite unexpectedly they came upon the two, and with a shout von Horn
leaped forward, his bull whip upraised. Number Thirteen turned in
surprise at the cry, and sensing a new danger for her who lay in his
arms, he set her gently upon the ground behind him and advanced to meet
his assailant.

"Out of the way, you--monstrosity," cried von Horn. "If you have
harmed Miss Maxon I'll put a bullet in your heart!"

Number Thirteen did not understand the words that the other addressed
to him but he interpreted the man's actions as menacing, not to
himself, but to the creature he now considered his particular charge;
and so he met the advancing man, more to keep him from the girl than to
offer him bodily injury for he recognized him as one of the two who had
greeted his first dawning consciousness.

Von Horn, possibly intentionally, misinterpreted the other's motive,
and raising his bull whip struck Number Thirteen a vicious cut across
the face, at the same time levelling his revolver point blank at the
broad beast. But before ever he could pull the trigger an avalanche of
muscle was upon him, and he went down to the rotting vegetation of the
jungle with five sinewy fingers at his throat.

His revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and then another hand
wrenched it from him and hurled it far into the underbrush. Number
Thirteen knew nothing of the danger of firearms, but the noise had
startled him and his experience with the stinging cut of the bull whip
convinced him that this other was some sort of instrument of torture of
which it would be as well to deprive his antagonist.

Virginia Maxon looked on in hor