The black nodded. “Perhaps you speak the truth,” he said, but still he walked behind, with his rifle always ready in his hand. They went warily, for fear of overtaking the Waziri, but shortly after passing the spot where the latter had camped they saw that they had taken another route and that there was now no danger of coming in contact with them. When they had reached a point within about a mile of the spot where the gold had been buried, Esteban told Owaza to have his boys remain there while they went ahead alone to effect the transfer of the ingots. “The fewer who know of this,” he said to the black, “the safer we shall be.” “The Bwana speaks words of wisdom,” replied the wily black. Esteban found the spot near the waterfall without difficulty, and upon questioning Owaza he discovered that the latter knew the location perfectly, and would have no difficulty in coming directly to it again from the coast. They transferred the gold but a short distance, concealing it in a heavy thicket near the edge of the river, knowing that it would be as safe from discovery there as though they had transported it a hundred miles, for the chances were extremely slight that the Waziri or anyone else who should learn of its original hiding place would imagine that anyone would go to the trouble of removing it but a matter of a hundred yards. When they had finished Owaza looked at the sun. “We will never reach camp tonight,” he said, “and we will have to travel fast to overtake them even tomorrow.” “I did not expect to,” replied Esteban, “but I could not tell them that. If we never find them again I shall be satisfied.” Owaza grinned. In his crafty mind an idea was formed. “Why,” he thought, “risk death in a battle with the Arab ivory raiders on the chance of securing a few tusks, when all this gold awaits only transportation to the coast to be ours?” [Illustration: Tarzan saw a white man, bald and old and shriveled with a long white beard] CHAPTER XIII A STRANGE, FLAT TOWER TARZAN, turning, discovered the man standing behind him on the top level of the ivy-covered east tower of the Palace of Diamonds. His knife leaped from its sheath at the touch of his quick fingers. But almost simultaneously his hand dropped to his side, and he stood contemplating the other, with an expression of incredulity upon his face that but reflected a similar emotion registered upon the countenance of the stranger. For what Tarzan saw was no Bolgani, nor a Gomangani, but a white man, bald and old and shriveled, with a long, white beard—a white man, naked but for barbaric ornaments of gold spangles and diamonds. “God!” exclaimed the strange apparition. Tarzan eyed the other quizzically. That single English word opened up such tremendous possibilities for conjecture as baffled the mind of the ape-man. “What are you? Who are you?” continued the old man, but this time in the dialect of the great apes.