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His lips were parted, and his breath came quickly, pantingly. The girl recalled Jenssen's instructions to call him should Malbihn molest her; but Jenssen had gone into the jungle to hunt. Malbihn had chosen his time well. Yet she screamed, loud and shrill, once, twice, a third time, before Malbihn could leap across the tent and throttle her alarming cries with his brute fingers.
All that day they marched, and the next and the next, nor did Korak even so much as show himself to the patient little waiter moving, silently and stately, beside her hard captors. Malbihn remained scowling and angry. He replied to Jenssen's friendly advances in curt monosyllables.
Again he seized her, and at the same instant the flaps of the tent opened silently and a tall white man stood in the aperture. Neither Meriem or Malbihn saw the newcomer. The latter's back was toward him while his body hid the stranger from Meriem's eyes. He crossed the tent quickly, stepping over Jenssen's body.
The girl pointed to Jenssen's body. "He carried it always," she said. The stranger searched the clothing on the corpse until he came upon the key. A moment more Meriem was free. "Will you let me go back to my Korak?" she asked. "I will see that you are returned to your people," he replied. "Who are they and where is their village?" He had been eyeing her strange, barbaric garmenture wonderingly.
The expressions upon their faces, their gestures, and Jenssen's final tapping of his revolver before Malbihn had left the tent had all been eloquent of the seriousness of their altercation.
Malbihn still was showering blows upon her. Jenssen, streaming foul curses upon his erstwhile friend, burst into the tent. Malbihn, interrupted, dropped his victim and turned to meet Jenssen's infuriated charge. He whipped a revolver from his hip. Jenssen, anticipating the lightning move of the other's hand, drew almost simultaneously, and both men fired at once.
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