definite idea as to what they would do, and so he faded silently
away toward the south, taking the moonlit upper terrace back toward
the camp of the Waziri.

Presently one of the Arabs turned and saw that the thing that had
leaped from the tree upon them lay still and quiet where it had
fallen in the center of the village street. Cautiously he crept
back toward it until he saw that it was but a man. A moment later
he was beside the figure, and in another had recognized it as the
corpse of the Manyuema who had stood on guard at the village gate.

His companions rapidly gathered around at his call, and after a
moment's excited conversation they did precisely what Tarzan had
reasoned they would. Raising their guns to their shoulders, they
poured volley after volley into the tree from which the corpse had
been thrown--had Tarzan remained there he would have been riddled
by a hundred bullets.

When the Arabs and Manyuema discovered that the only marks of violence
upon the body of their dead comrade were giant finger prints upon
his swollen throat they were again thrown into deeper apprehension
and despair. That they were not even safe within a palisaded
village at night came as a distinct shock to them. That an enemy
could enter into the midst of their camp and kill their sentry
with bare hands seemed outside the bounds of reason, and so the
superstitious Manyuema commenced to attribute their ill luck to
supernatural causes; nor were the Arabs able to offer any better
explanation.

With at least fifty of their number flying through the black jungle,