narrowed eyes bored straight down upon the Belgian. Werper felt
that he was lost--he must risk all on his ability to carry on the
deception. He sighed, threw both arms outward, and turned over on
his back mumbling as though in the throes of a bad dream. A moment
later he resumed the regular breathing.

Now he could not watch Tarzan, but he was sure that the man sat
for a long time looking at him. Then, faintly, Werper heard the
other's hands scraping dirt, and later patting it down. He knew
then that the jewels were buried.

It was an hour before Werper moved again, then he rolled over facing
Tarzan and opened his eyes. The ape-man slept. By reaching out
his hand Werper could touch the spot where the pouch was buried.

For a long time he lay watching and listening. He moved about,
making more noise than necessary, yet Tarzan did not awaken. He
drew the sacrificial knife from his belt, and plunged it into the
ground. Tarzan did not move. Cautiously the Belgian pushed the
blade downward through the loose earth above the pouch. He felt
the point touch the soft, tough fabric of the leather. Then he
pried down upon the handle. Slowly the little mound of loose earth
rose and parted. An instant later a corner of the pouch came into
view. Werper pulled it from its hiding place, and tucked it in his
shirt. Then he refilled the hole and pressed the dirt carefully
down as it had been before.

Greed had prompted him to an act, the discovery of which by his
companion could lead only to the most frightful consequences for
Werper. Already he could almost feel those strong, white fangs