just
then paramount.

The elephant remained under the trees, as if pondering, while the child
began to cry loudly. One of the natives saw her predicament and
hastened away for assistance.

Achmed was greatly alarmed over the loss of the baboon. It was a camp
pet of Colonel Hare's and ran free in camp whenever the colonel was
there. He had captured it when a mere baby in British East Africa.
The troglodyte, with a strange reasoning yet untranslatable, loved the
colonel devotedly and followed him about like a dog and with a scent
far keener. So Ahmed and some of the keepers set off in search of the
colonel's pet.

He went about the search with only half a heart. Only a little while
before he had received the news of what had happened in the slave mart
that afternoon. It seemed incredible. To have her fall into Umballa's
hands thus easily, when he and Bruce Sahib had searched the jungle far
and wide! Well, she was alive; praise Allah for that; and where there
was life there was hope.

Later Kathlyn was standing under the cell window gazing at the yellow
sunset. Two hours had gone, and no sign of Umballa yet. She
shuddered. Had she been alone she would have hunted for something
sharp and deadly. But her father; not before him. She must wait. One
thing was positive and absolute: Umballa should never embrace her; she
was too strong and desperate.

"Kit!"

"Yes, father."

"I have a sharp piece of metal in my pocket. Could you . . . My God,
by my hand! . . . when he comes?"

"Yes, father; I am not afraid to die, and death seems all that remains.
I should bless you. He will be a tiger now."

"My child, God was good to give me a daughter like you."

She turned to him this time and pressed him to her heart.

"It grows dark suddenly," he said.

Kathlyn glanced toward the window.

"Why, it's a baboon!" she exclaimed.

"Jock, Jock!" cried her father excitedly.

The baboon chattered.

"Kit, it's Jock I used to tell you about. He is tame and follows me
about like a dog. Jock, poor Jock!"

"Father, have you a pencil?"

"A pencil?" blankly.

"Yes, yes! I can write a note and attach it to Jock. It's a chance."

"Good lord! and you're cool enough to think like that." The colonel
went through his pockets feverishly. "Thank God, here's an old stub!
But paper?"

Kathlyn tore off a broad blade of grass from her dress and wrote
carefully upon it. If it fell into the hands of the natives the