They had come within a day’s march of the bungalow when Tarzan discovered the spoor of a considerable body of warriors. As some men devour the latest stock-market quotations as though their very existence depended upon an accurate knowledge of them, so Tarzan of the Apes devoured every scrap of information that the jungle held for him, for, in truth, an accurate knowledge of all that this information could impart to him had been during his lifetime a _sine qua non_ to his existence. So now he carefully examined the spoor that lay before him, several days old though it was and partially obliterated by the passage of beasts since it had been made, but yet legible enough to the keen eyes and nostrils of the ape-man. His partial indifference suddenly gave way to keen interest, for among the footprints of the great warriors he saw now and again the smaller one of a white woman—a loved footprint that he knew as well as you know your mother’s face. “The Waziri returned and told her that I was missing,” he soliloquized, “and now she has set out with them to search for me.” He turned to the lion. “Well, Jad-bal-ja, once again we turn away from home—but no, where she is is home.” The direction that the trail led rather mystified Tarzan of the Apes, as it was not along the direct route toward Opar, but in a rather more southerly direction. On the sixth day his keen ears caught the sound of approaching men, and presently there was wafted to his nostrils the spoor of blacks. Sending Jad-bal-ja into a thicket to hide, Tarzan took to the trees and moved rapidly in the direction of the approaching negroes. As the distance between them lessened the scent became stronger, until, even before he saw them, Tarzan knew that they were Waziri, but the one effluvium that would have filled his soul with happiness was lacking. It was a surprised Usula who, at the head of the sad and dejected Waziri, came at the turning of the trail suddenly face to face with his master. “Tarzan of the Apes!” cried Usula. “Is it indeed you?” “It is none other,” replied the ape-man, “but where is Lady Greystoke?” “Ah, master, how can we tell you!” cried Usula. “You do not mean—” cried Tarzan. “It cannot be. Nothing could happen to her while she was guarded by my Waziri!” The warriors hung their heads in shame and sorrow. “We offer our lives for hers,” said Usula, simply. He threw down his spear and shield and, stretching his arms wide apart, bared his great breast to Tarzan. “Strike, Bwana,” he said. The ape-man turned away with bowed head. Presently he looked at Usula again. “Tell me how it happened,” he said, “and forget your foolish speech as I have forgotten the suggestion which prompted it.” Briefly Usula narrated the events which had led up to the death of Jane, and when he was done Tarzan of the Apes spoke but three words, voicing a question which was typical of him. “Where is Luvini?” he asked. “Ah, that we do not know,” replied Usula.