er energies and her voice until she
could see that they had approached near enough to the camp to attract
the succor she craved.

She could not have known it, but she was being borne farther and
farther into the impenetrable jungle.

The scream that had brought Clayton and the two older men stumbling
through the undergrowth had led Tarzan of the Apes straight to where
Esmeralda lay, but it was not Esmeralda in whom his interest centered,
though pausing over her he saw that she was unhurt.

For a moment he scrutinized the ground below and the trees above, until
the ape that was in him by virtue of training and environment, combined
with the intelligence that was his by right of birth, told his wondrous
woodcraft the whole story as plainly as though he had seen the thing
happen with his own eyes.

And then he was gone again into the swaying trees, following the
high-flung spoor which no other human eye could have detected, much
less translated.

At boughs' ends, where the anthropoid swings from one tree to another,
there is most to mark the trail, but least to point the direction of
the quarry; for there the pressure is downward always, toward the small
end of the branch, whether the ape be leaving or entering a tree.
Nearer the center of the tree, where the signs of passage are fainter,
the direction is plainly marked.

Here, on this branch, a caterpillar has been crushed by the fugitive's
great foot, and Tarzan knows instinctively where that same foot would
touch in the next stride. Here he looks to find a tiny particle of the
demolished larva, ofttimes not more than a speck of moisture.

Again, a minute bit of bark has been upturned by the scraping hand, and
the direction of the break indicates the direction of the passage. Or
some great limb, or the stem of the tree itself has been brushed by the
hairy body, and a tiny shred of hair tells him by the direction from
which it is wedged beneath the bark that he is on the right trail.

Nor does he need to check his speed to catch these seemingly faint
records of the fleeing beast.

To Tarzan they stand out boldly against all the myriad other scars and
bruises and signs upon the leafy way. But strongest of all is the
scent, for Tarzan is pursuing up the wind, and his trained nostrils are
as sensitive as a hound's.

There are those who believe that the lower orders are specially endowed
by nature with better olfactory nerves than man, but it is merely a
matte