rstand him, and
he feared, too, that he might frighten her away.

At length she arose, leaving her manuscript upon the table. She went
to the bed upon which had been spread several layers of soft grasses.
These she rearranged.

Then she loosened the soft mass of golden hair which crowned her head.
Like a shimmering waterfall turned to burnished metal by a dying sun it
fell about her oval face; in waving lines, below her waist it tumbled.

Tarzan was spellbound. Then she extinguished the lamp and all within
the cabin was wrapped in Cimmerian darkness.

Still Tarzan watched. Creeping close beneath the window he waited,
listening, for half an hour. At last he was rewarded by the sounds of
the regular breathing within which denotes sleep.

Cautiously he intruded his hand between the meshes of the lattice until
his whole arm was within the cabin. Carefully he felt upon the desk.
At last he grasped the manuscript upon which Jane Porter had been
writing, and as cautiously withdrew his arm and hand, holding the
precious treasure.

Tarzan folded the sheets into a small parcel which he tucked into the
quiver with his arrows. Then he melted away into the jungle as softly
and as noiselessly as a shadow.

Chapter XVIII

The Jungle Toll

Early the following morning Tarzan awoke, and his first thought of the
new day, as the last of yesterday, was of the wonderful writing which
lay hidden in his quiver.

Hurriedly he brought it forth, hoping against hope that he could read
what the beautiful white girl had written there the preceding evening.

At the first glance he suffered a bitter disappointment; never before
had he so yearned for anything as now he did for the ability to
interpret a message from that golden-haired divinity who had come so
suddenly and so unexpectedly into his life.

What did it matter if the message were not intended for him? It was an
expression of her thoughts, and that was sufficient for Tarzan of the
Apes.

And now to be baffled by strange, uncouth characters the like of which
he had never seen before! Why, they even tipped in the opposite
direction from all that he had ever examined either in printed books or
the difficult script of the few letters he had found.

Even the little bugs of the black book were familiar friends, though
their arrangement meant nothing to him; but these bugs were new and
unheard of.

For twenty minutes he pored over them, when suddenly they commenc