to the offspring of my labors as `things.'"

With an ugly look upon his face von Horn turned his

back upon the older man--what little feeling of loyalty

and affection he had ever felt for him gone forever.

Sing was looking about for evidences of the cause of

Number One's death and the probable direction in which

Virginia Maxon had disappeared.

"What on earth could have killed this enormous brute, Sing?

Have you any idea?" asked von Horn.

The Chinaman shook his head.

"No savvy," he replied. "Blig flight. Look see,"

and he pointed to the torn and trampled turf,

the broken bushes, and to one or two small trees

that had been snapped off by the impact of the two

mighty bodies that had struggled back and forth

about the little clearing.

"This way," cried Sing presently, and started off once

more into the brush, but this time in a northwesterly

direction, toward camp.

In silence the three men followed the new trail,

all puzzled beyond measure to account for the death

of Number One at the hands of what must have been a

creature of superhuman strength. What could it have

been! It was impossible that any of the Malays or

lascars could have done the thing, and there were no

other creatures, brute or human, upon the island large

enough to have coped even for an instant with the

ferocious brutality of the dead monster, except--

von Horn's brain came to a sudden halt at the thought.

Could it be? There seemed no other explanation.

Virginia Maxon had been rescued from one soulless

monstrosity to fall into the hands of another equally

irresponsible and terrifying.

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>