down the ivory, and fall upon your masters--we will help you. Else
you die!"

As the voice died down the raiders stood as though turned to stone.
The Arabs eyed their Manyuema slaves; the slaves looked first at
one of their fellows, and then at another--they were but waiting
for some one to take the initiative. There were some thirty Arabs
left, and about one hundred and fifty blacks. All were armed--even
those who were acting as porters had their rifles slung across
their backs.

The Arabs drew together. The sheik ordered the Manyuema to take
up the march, and as he spoke he cocked his rifle and raised it.
But at the same instant one of the blacks threw down his load, and,
snatching his rifle from his back, fired point-black at the group
of Arabs. In an instant the camp was a cursing, howling mass of
demons, fighting with guns and knives and pistols. The Arabs stood
together, and defended their lives valiantly, but with the rain of
lead that poured upon them from their own slaves, and the shower
of arrows and spears which now leaped from the surrounding jungle
aimed solely at them, there was little question from the first
what the outcome would be. In ten minutes from the time the first
porter had thrown down his load the last of the Arabs lay dead.

When the firing had ceased Tarzan spoke again to the Manyuema:

"Take up our ivory, and return it to our village, from whence you
stole it. We shall not harm you."

For a moment the Manyuema hesitated. They had no stomach to