n store for him now. He could neither
see nor hear any signs of life about him.

The incessant hum of the jungle--the rustling of millions of
leaves--the buzz of insects--the voices of the birds and monkeys seemed
blended into a strangely soothing purr, as though he lay apart, far
from the myriad life whose sounds came to him only as a blurred echo.

At length he fell into a quiet slumber, nor did he awake again until
afternoon.

Once more he experienced the strange sense of utter bewilderment that
had marked his earlier awakening, but soon he recalled the recent past,
and looking through the opening at his feet he saw the figure of a man
squatting on his haunches.

The broad, muscular back was turned toward him, but, tanned though it
was, D'Arnot saw that it was the back of a white man, and he thanked
God.

The Frenchman called faintly. The man turned, and rising, came toward
the shelter. His face was very handsome--the handsomest, thought
D'Arnot, that he had ever seen.

Stooping, he crawled into the shelter beside the wounded officer, and
placed a cool hand upon his forehead.

D'Arnot spoke to him in French, but the man only shook his head--sadly,
it seemed to the Frenchman.

Then D'Arnot tried English, but still the man shook his head. Italian,
Spanish and German brought similar discouragement.

D'Arnot knew a few words of Norwegian, Russian, Greek, and also had a
smattering of the language of one of the West Coast negro tribes--the
man denied them all.

After examining D'Arnot's wounds the man left the shelter and
disappeared. In half an hour he was back with fruit and a hollow
gourd-like vegetable filled with water.

D'Arnot drank and ate a little. He was surprised that he had no fever.
Again he tried to converse with his strange nurse, but the attempt was
useless.

Suddenly the man hastened from the shelter only to return a few minutes
later with several pieces of bark and--wonder of wonders--a lead pencil.

Squatting beside D'Arnot he wrote for a minute on the smooth inner
surface of the bark; then he handed it to the Frenchman.

D'Arnot was astonished to see, in plain print-like characters, a
message in English:

I am Tarzan of the Apes. Who are you? Can you read this language?

D'Arnot seized the pencil--then he stopped. This strange man wrote
English--evidently he was an Englishman.

"Yes," said D'Arnot, "I read English. I speak it also. Now we may
talk. First let me tha