often; but savage hatred and an equally savage desire for vengeance
kept him to his task. As the days passed his wounds healed and
his strength returned, until at last his giant frame had regained
all of its former mighty powers. Now he went more rapidly; but
the mounted Arabs had covered a great distance while the wounded
black had been painfully crawling after them.

They had reached their fortified camp, and there Achmet Zek awaited
the return of his lieutenant, Albert Werper. During the long,
rough journey, Jane Clayton had suffered more in anticipation of
her impending fate than from the hardships of the road.

Achmet Zek had not deigned to acquaint her with his intentions
regarding her future. She prayed that she had been captured in the
hope of ransom, for if such should prove the case, no great harm
would befall her at the hands of the Arabs; but there was the
chance, the horrid chance, that another fate awaited her. She had
heard of many women, among whom were white women, who had been sold
by outlaws such as Achmet Zek into the slavery of black harems, or
taken farther north into the almost equally hideous existence of
some Turkish seraglio.

Jane Clayton was of sterner stuff than that which bends in spineless
terror before danger. Until hope proved futile she would not give
it up; nor did she entertain thoughts of self-destruction only as
a final escape from dishonor. So long as Tarzan lived there was
every reason to expect succor. No man nor beast who roamed the
savage continent could boast the cunning and the powers of her
lord and master. To her, he was little short of omnipotent in his
native world--this world of savage beasts and savage men. Tarzan