his eyes upon the contents of the pouch, Tarzan paused directly
above him, intent upon the same object.

Wetting his thin lips with his tongue, Achmet Zek loosened the
tie strings which closed the mouth of the pouch, and cupping one
claw-like hand poured forth a portion of the contents into his
palm.

A single look he took at the stones lying in his hand. His eyes
narrowed, a curse broke from his lips, and he hurled the small
objects upon the ground, disdainfully. Quickly he emptied the
balance of the contents until he had scanned each separate stone,
and as he dumped them all upon the ground and stamped upon them
his rage grew until the muscles of his face worked in demon-like
fury, and his fingers clenched until his nails bit into the flesh.

Above, Tarzan watched in wonderment. He had been curious to discover
what all the pow-wow about his pouch had meant. He wanted to see
what the Arab would do after the other had gone away, leaving the
pouch behind him, and, having satisfied his curiosity, he would
then have pounced upon Achmet Zek and taken the pouch and his pretty
pebbles away from him, for did they not belong to Tarzan?

He saw the Arab now throw aside the empty pouch, and grasping his
long gun by the barrel, clublike, sneak stealthily through the
jungle beside the trail along which Werper had gone.

As the man disappeared from his view, Tarzan dropped to the ground
and commenced gathering up the spilled contents of the pouch, and
the moment that he obtained his first near view of the scattered