“It is very simple,” replied Obebe. “If some morning we find that he has escaped we will know that he is the river devil, and because we have not harmed him but have fed him well while he has been here in our village, he will befriend us and no harm will come of it. But if he does not escape we will know that he is Tarzan of the Apes, provided he dies a natural death. And so, if he does not escape, we shall keep him until he dies and then we shall know that he was, indeed, Tarzan of the Apes.” “But suppose he does not die?” asked the witch doctor, scratching his woolly head. “Then,” exclaimed Obebe triumphantly, “we will know that you are right, and that he was, indeed, the river devil.” Obebe went and ordered women to take food to the Spaniard while the witch doctor stood, where Obebe had left him, in the middle of the street, still scratching his head in thought. And thus was Esteban Miranda, possessor of the most fabulous fortune in diamonds that the world had ever known, condemned to life imprisonment in the village of Obebe, the cannibal. While he had been lying in the hut his traitorous confederate, Owaza, from the opposite bank of the river from the spot where he and Esteban had hidden the golden ingots, saw Tarzan and his Waziri come and search for the gold and go away again, and the following morning Owaza came with fifty men whom he had recruited from a neighboring village and dug up the gold and started with it toward the coast. That night Owaza made camp just outside a tiny village of a minor chief, who was weak in warriors. The old fellow invited Owaza into his compound, and there he fed him and gave him native beer, while the chief’s people circulated among Owaza’s boys plying them with innumerable questions until at last the truth leaked out and the chief knew that Owaza’s porters were carrying a great store of yellow gold. When the chief learned this for certain he was much perturbed, but finally a smile crossed his face as he talked with the half-drunken Owaza. “You have much gold with you,” said the old chief, “and it is very heavy. It will be hard to get your boys to carry it all the way back to the coast.” “Yes,” said Owaza, “but I shall pay them well.” “If they did not have to carry it so far from home you would not have to pay them so much, would you?” asked the chief. “No,” said Owaza, “but I cannot dispose of it this side of the coast.” “I know where you can dispose of it within two days’ march,” replied the old chief. “Where?” demanded Owaza. “And who here in the interior will buy it?” “There is a white man who will give you a little piece of paper for it and you can take that paper to the coast and get the full value of your gold.” “Who is this white man?” demanded Owaza, “and where is he?” “He is a friend of mine,” said the chief, “and if you wish I will take you to him on the morrow, and you can bring with you all your gold and get the little piece of paper.”