to remain forever hidden in its forgotten storehouse.

Behind him that morning another white man pondered something he had
heard during the night and very nearly did he give up his project
and turn back upon his trail. It was Werper, the murderer, who in
the still of the night had heard far away upon the trail ahead of
him a sound that had filled his cowardly soul with terror--a sound
such as he never before had heard in all his life, nor dreamed that
such a frightful thing could emanate from the lungs of a God-created
creature. He had heard the victory cry of the bull ape as Tarzan
had screamed it forth into the face of Goro, the moon, and he had
trembled then and hidden his face; and now in the broad light of a
new day he trembled again as he recalled it, and would have turned
back from the nameless danger the echo of that frightful sound
seemed to portend, had he not stood in even greater fear of Achmet
Zek, his master.

And so Tarzan of the Apes forged steadily ahead toward Opar's
ruined ramparts and behind him slunk Werper, jackal-like, and only
God knew what lay in store for each.

At the edge of the desolate valley, overlooking the golden domes
and minarets of Opar, Tarzan halted. By night he would go alone
to the treasure vault, reconnoitering, for he had determined that
caution should mark his every move upon this expedition.

With the coming of night he set forth, and Werper, who had scaled
the cliffs alone behind the ape-man's party, and hidden through the
day among the rough boulders of the mountain top, slunk stealthily
after him. The boulder-strewn plain between the valley's edge and