Kaviri battled bravely against his antagonist, for he felt that death had already claimed him, and so the least that he could do would be to sell his life as dearly as possible; but it was soon evident that his best was quite futile when pitted against the superhuman brawn and agility of the creature that at last found his throat and bent him back into the bottom of the canoe. Presently Kaviri’s head began to whirl—objects became confused and dim before his eyes—there was a great pain in his chest as he struggled for the breath of life that the thing upon him was shutting off for ever. Then he lost consciousness. When he opened his eyes once more he found, much to his surprise, that he was not dead. He lay, securely bound, in the bottom of his own canoe. A great panther sat upon its haunches, looking down upon him. Kaviri shuddered and closed his eyes again, waiting for the ferocious creature to spring upon him and put him out of his misery of terror. After a moment, no rending fangs having buried themselves in his trembling body, he again ventured to open his eyes. Beyond the panther kneeled the white giant who had overcome him. The man was wielding a paddle, while directly behind him Kaviri saw some of his own warriors similarly engaged. Back of them again squatted several of the hairy apes. Tarzan, seeing that the chief had regained consciousness, addressed him. “Your warriors tell me that you are the chief of a numerous people, and that your name is Kaviri,” he said. “Yes,” replied the black. “Why did you attack me? I came in peace.” “Another white man ‘came in peace’ three moons ago,” replied Kaviri; “and after we had brought him presents of a goat and cassava and milk, he set upon us with his guns and killed many of my people, and then went on his way, taking all of our goats and many of our young men and women.” “I am not as this other white man,” replied Tarzan. “I should not have harmed you had you not set upon me. Tell me, what was the face of this bad white man like? I am searching for one who has wronged me. Possibly this may be the very one.” “He was a man with a bad face, covered with a great, black beard, and he was very, very wicked—yes, very wicked indeed.” “Was there a little white child with him?” asked Tarzan, his heart almost stopped as he awaited the black’s answer. “No, bwana,” replied Kaviri, “the white child was not with this man’s party—it was with the other party.” “Other party!” exclaimed Tarzan. “What other party?” “With the party that the very bad white man was pursuing. There was a white man, woman, and the child, with six Mosula porters. They passed up the river three days ahead of the very bad white man. I think that they were running away from him.”