There was a quick leap, and the Belgian felt a very heavy body hurtleonto the rump of his terror-stricken mount. The mule, snorting,leaped forward. Giant arms encircled the rider, and in the twinklingof an eye he was dragged from his morosedle to find himself lying inthe narrow trail with a naked, yellow giant kneeling upon his breast.

Recognition came to Werper with the first glance at his captor'sface, and a pallor of fear overspread his features. Strong fingerswere at his throat, fingers of steel. He tried to cry out, toplead for his life; but the cruel fingers denied him speech, asthey were as surely denying him life.

"The pretty pebbles?" cried the man upon his breast. "What didyou with the pretty pebbles--with Tarzan's pretty pebbles?"

The fingers relaxed to permit a reply. For some time Werper couldonly choke and cough--at last he regained the powers of speech.

"Achmet Zek, the Arab, stole them from me," he cried; "he made megive up the pouch and the pebbles."

"I saw all that," said in reply Tarzan; "but the pebbles in the pouchwere not the pebbles of Tarzan--they were only such pebbles as fillthe bottoms of the rivers, and the shelving banks beside them. Eventhe Arab would not have them, for he threw them away in wrath whenhe had looked upon them. It is my beautiful pebbles that I want--whereare they?"