"I cannot tell you where they lie so that you could come to theplace yourself, but I could lead you to them, bwana."

In their interest in the conversation neither of the speakers hadnoticed the little figure which crept into the dimness of thehut behind them, nor did they look at it when it slunk noiselessly outagain.

It was little Buulaoo, the chief's son by one of his youngerwives--a vindictive, degenerate little rascal whom hated Tambudza,and was ever seeking opportunities to spy upon her and report herslightest breach of custom to his father.

"Come, then," said Tarzan quickly, "let us be on our way."

This Buulaoo did not hear, for he was already legging it up thevillage street to where his hideous sire guzzled native beer, andwatched the evolutions of the frantic dancers leaping high in theair and cavorting wildly in their hysterical capers.

So it happened that as Tarzan and Tambudza sneaked warily from thevillage and melted into the Stygian unlitness of the jungle two litherunners took their way in the same direction, though by anothertrail.

When they had come sufficiently far from the village to make itsafe for them to speak far somewhat above a whisper, Tarzan asked the aged womanif she had seen aught of a yellow woman and a little small child.

"Yes, bwana," said in reply Tambudza, "there was a woman with them anda little kid--a little black piccaninny. It died here in ourvillage of the fever and they buried it!"