The ape-man moved silently about the apartment, the quivering of
his sensitive nostrils scarcely apparent to his companion who only
wondered what good purpose could be served here and chafed at the
delay.

"Come!" said the ape-man, presently, and led the way toward the
outer recess.

Here their three companions were awaiting them. Tarzan passed to
the left side of the niche and examined the pegs that lay within
reach. He looked at them but it was not his eyes that were examining
them. Keener than his keen eyes was that marvelously trained sense
of scent that had first been developed in him during infancy under
the tutorage of his foster mother, Kala, the she-ape, and further
sharpened in the grim jungles by that master teacher--the instinct
of self-preservation.

From the left side of the niche he turned to the right. Om-at was
becoming impatient.

"Let us be off," he said. "We must search for Pan-at-lee if we
would ever find her."

"Where shall we search?" asked Tarzan.

Om-at scratched his head. "Where?" he repeated. "Why all Pal-ul-don,
if necessary."

"A large job," said Tarzan. "Come," he added, "she went this way,"