of the Atlantic.

No sound broke the stillness of the subterranean vault. There was
no evidence that another had discovered the forgotten wealth since
last the ape-man had visited its hiding place.

Satisfied, Tarzan turned and retraced his steps toward the summit
of the kopje. Werper, from the concealment of a jutting, granite
shoulder, watched him pass up from the shadows of the stairway
and advance toward the edge of the hill which faced the rim of the
valley where the Waziri awaited the signal of their master. Then
Werper, slipping stealthily from his hiding place, dropped into
the somber darkness of the entrance and disappeared.

Tarzan, halting upon the kopje's edge, raised his voice in the
thunderous roar of a lion. Twice, at regular intervals, he repeated
the call, standing in attentive silence for several minutes after
the echoes of the third call had died away. And then, from far
across the valley, faintly, came an answering roar--once, twice,
thrice. Basuli, the Waziri chieftain, had heard and replied.

Tarzan again made his way toward the treasure vault, knowing that
in a few hours his blacks would be with him, ready to bear away
another fortune in the strangely shaped, golden ingots of Opar. In
the meantime he would carry as much of the precious metal to the
summit of the kopje as he could.

Six trips he made in the five hours before Basuli reached the kopje,
and at the end of that time he had transported forty-eight ingots
to the edge of the great boulder, carrying upon each trip a load