The treasure buried, the blacks removed themselves a short distance up wind from the fetid corpses, where they made camp, that they might rest before setting out in pursuit of the Arabs.It was already dusk.Werper and Tarzan sat devouring some pieces of meat they had brought from their last camp.The Belgian was occupied with his plans for the immediate future.He was positive that the Waziri would pursue Achmet Zek, for he knew enough of savage 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 was fastened upon him from beneath the shadow of the Belgian's forearm.
For a time he lay thus, glowering at Tarzan, and originating schemes for plundering him of his treasure--schemes that were discarded as futile as rapidly as they were born.
Tarzan presently let his own eyes rest upon Werper.
The Belgian saw that he was being watched, and lay very still.After a few moments he simulated the regular breathing of deep slumber.
Tarzan had been thinking.He had seen the Waziri bury their belongings.Werper had told him that they were hiding them lest some one find them and take them away.
This seemed to Tarzan a splendid plan for safeguarding valuables.Since Werper had evinced a desire to possess his glittering pebbles, Tarzan, with the suspicions of a savage, had guarded the baubles, of whose worth he was entirely ignorant, as zealously as though they spelled life or death to him.
For a long time the ape-man sat watching his companion.
At last, convinced that he slept, Tarzan withdrew his hunting knife and commenced to dig a hole in the ground before him.With the blade he loosened up the earth, and with his hands he scooped it out until he had excavated a little cavity a few inches in diameter, and five or six inches in depth.Into this he placed the pouch of jewels.Werper almost forgot to breathe after the fashion of a sleeper as he saw what the ape-man was doing--he scarce repressed an ejaculation of satisfaction.
Tarzan become suddenly rigid as his keen ears noted the cessation of the regular inspirations and expirations of his companion.His 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 burying themselves in his neck.He shuddered.Far out across the plain a leopard screamed, and in the dense reeds behind him some great beast moved on padded feet.
Werper feared these prowlers of the night; but infinitely more he feared the just wrath of the human beast sleeping at his side.With utmost caution the Belgian arose.Tarzan did not move.Werper took a few steps toward the plain and the distant forest to the northwest, then he paused and fingered the hilt of the long knife in his belt.He turned and looked down upon the sleeper.
"Why not?" he mused."Then I should be safe."
He returned and bent above the ape-man.Clutched tightly in his hand was the sacrificial knife of the High Priestess of the Flaming God!
