warfare, and of the characteristics of the Arabs and their degraded
followers to guess that they had carried the Waziri women off into
slavery. This alone would assure immediate pursuit by so warlike
a people as the Waziri.

Werper felt that he should find the means and the opportunity to
push on ahead, that he might warn Achmet Zek of the coming of Basuli,
and also of the location of the buried treasure. What the Arab
would now do with Lady Greystoke, in view of the mental affliction
of her husband, Werper neither knew nor cared. It was enough that
the golden treasure buried upon the site of the burned bungalow was
infinitely more valuable than any ransom that would have occurred
even to the avaricious mind of the Arab, and if Werper could persuade
the raider to share even a portion of it with him he would be well
satisfied.

But by far the most important consideration, to Werper, at least,
was the incalculably valuable treasure in the little leathern pouch
at Tarzan's side. If he could but obtain possession of this! He
must! He would!

His eyes wandered to the object of his greed. They measured Tarzan's
giant frame, and rested upon the rounded muscles of his arms. It
was hopeless. What could he, Werper, hope to accomplish, other than
his own death, by an attempt to wrest the gems from their savage
owner?

Disconsolate, Werper threw himself upon his side. His head was
pillowed on one arm, the other rested across his face in such a
way that his eyes were hidden from the ape-man, though one of them