whirled in the sudden blackness which rims eternity--a moment later
the ape rose from his prostrate form; but Condon did not know--he
was quite dead.

The lad, horrified, sprang from the bed to lean over the body of
the man. He knew that Akut had killed in his defense, as he had
killed Michael Sabrov; but here, in savage Africa, far from home
and friends what would they do to him and his faithful ape? The
lad knew that the penalty of murder was death. He even knew that
an accomplice might suffer the death penalty with the principal.
Who was there who would plead for them? All would be against them.
It was little more than a half-civilized community, and the chances
were that they would drag Akut and him forth in the morning and
hang them both to the nearest tree--he had read of such things
being done in America, and Africa was worse even and wilder than
the great West of his mother's native land. Yes, they would both
be hanged in the morning!

Was there no escape? He thought in silence for a few moments, and
then, with an exclamation of relief, he struck his palms together
and turned toward his clothing upon the chair. Money would do
anything! Money would save him and Akut! He felt for the bank
roll in the pocket in which he had been accustomed to carry it. It
was not there! Slowly at first and at last frantically he searched
through the remaining pockets of his clothing. Then he dropped
upon his hands and knees and examined the floor. Lighting the
lamp he moved the bed to one side and, inch by inch, he felt over
the entire floor. Beside the body of Condon he hesitated, but
at last he nerved himself to touch it. Rolling it over he sought
beneath it for the money. Nor was it there. He guessed that