“Good,” said Owaza, “and then I shall not have to pay the carriers but a very small amount.” The carriers were glad, indeed, to learn the next day that they were not to go all the way to the coast, for even the lure of payment was not sufficient to overcome their dislike to so long a journey, and their fear of being at so great a distance from home. They were very happy, therefore, as they set forth on a two days’ march toward the northeast. And Owaza was happy and so was the old chief, who accompanied them himself, though why he was happy about it Owaza could not guess. They had marched for almost two days when the chief sent one of his own men forward with a message. “It is to my friend,” he said, “to tell him to come and meet us and lead us to his village.” And a few hours later, as the little caravan emerged from the jungle onto a broad, grassy plain, they saw not far from them, and approaching rapidly, a large band of warriors. Owaza halted. “Who are those?” he demanded. “Those are the warriors of my friend,” replied the chief, “and he is with them. See?” and he pointed toward a figure at the head of the blacks, who were approaching at a trot, their spears and white plumes gleaming in the sunshine. “They come for war and not for peace,” said Owaza tearfully. “That depends upon you, Owaza,” replied the chief. “I do not understand you,” said Owaza. “But you will in a few minutes after my friend has come.” As the advancing warriors approached more closely Owaza saw a giant white at their head—a white whom he mistook for Esteban—the confederate he had so traitorously deserted. He turned upon the chief. “You have betrayed me,” he cried. “Wait,” said the old chief; “nothing that belongs to you shall be taken from you.” “The gold is not his,” cried Owaza. “He stole it,” and he pointed at Tarzan who had approached and halted before him, but who ignored him entirely and turned to the chief. “Your runner came,” he said to the old man, “and brought your message, and Tarzan and his Waziri have come to see what they could do for their old friend.” The chief smiled. “Your runner came to me, O Tarzan, four days since, and two days later came this man with his carriers, bearing golden ingots toward the coast. I told him that I had a friend who would buy them, giving him a little piece of paper for them, but that, of course, only in case the gold belonged to Owaza.” The ape-man smiled. “You have done well, my friend,” he said. “The gold does not belong to Owaza.” “It does not belong to you, either,” cried Owaza. “You are not Tarzan of the Apes. I know you. You came with the four white men and the white woman to steal the gold from Tarzan’s country, and then you stole it from your own friends.” The chief and the Waziri laughed. The ape-man smiled one of his slow smiles.