It was dusk when he reached a large camp hidden in the foothills of
the Pare Mountains. As he was approaching from the rear he found
it but lightly guarded and what sentinels there were, were not
upon the alert, and so it was an easy thing for him to enter after
darkness had fallen and prowl about listening at the backs of tents,
searching for some clew to the slayer of his mate.
As he paused at the side of a tent before which sat a number of
native soldiers he caught a few words spoken in native dialect that
riveted his attention instantly: "The Waziri fought like devils;
but we are greater fighters and we killed them all. When we were
through the captain came and killed the woman. He stayed outside
and yelled in a very loud voice until all the men were killed.
Underlieutenant von Goss is braver--he came in and stood beside the
door shouting at us, also in a very loud voice, and bade us nail
one of the Waziri who was wounded to the wall, and then he laughed
loudly because the man suffered. We all laughed. It was very funny."
Like a beast of prey, grim and terrible, Tarzan crouched in the
shadows beside the tent. What thoughts passed through that savage
mind? Who may say? No outward sign of passion was revealed by the
expression of the handsome face; the cold, gray eyes denoted only
intense watchfulness.
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