The girl had given up hope that Bulan ever could recover, so weak and emaciated had he become, and when the fever finally left him quite suddenly she was positive that it was the beginning of the end. It was on the morning of the seventh day since they had commenced their wandering in search of the long-house that, as she sat watching him, she saw his eyes resting upon her face with a look of recognition. Gently she took his hand, and at the act he smiled at her very weakly. “You are better, Bulan,” she said. “You have been very sick, but now you shall soon be well again.” She did not believe her own words, yet the mere saying of them gave her renewed hope. “Yes,” replied the man. “I shall soon be well again. How long have I been like this?” “For two days,” she replied. “And you have watched over me alone in the jungle for two days?” he asked incredulously. “Had it been for life,” she said in a low voice, “it would scarce have repaid the debt I owe you.” For a long time he lay looking up into her eyes—longingly, wistfully. “I wish that it had been for life,” he said. At first she did not quite realize what he meant, but presently the tired and hopeless expression of his eyes brought to her a sudden knowledge of his meaning. “Oh, Bulan,” she cried, “you must not say that. Why should you wish to die?” “Because I love you, Virginia,” he replied. “And because, when you know what I am, you will hate and loathe me.” On the girl’s lips was an avowal of her own love, but as she bent closer to whisper the words in his ear there came the sound of men crashing through the jungle, and as she turned to face the peril that she thought approaching, von Horn sprang into view, while directly behind him came her father and Sing Lee. Bulan saw them at the same instant, and as Virginia ran forward to greet her father he staggered weakly to his feet. Von Horn was the first to see the young giant, and with an oath sprang toward him, drawing his revolver as he came. “You beast,” he cried. “We have caught you at last.” At the words Virginia turned back toward Bulan with a little scream of warning and of horror. Professor Maxon was behind her. “Shoot the monster, von Horn,” he ordered. “Do not let him escape.” Bulan drew himself to his full height, and though he wavered from weakness, yet he towered mighty and magnificent above the evil faced man who menaced him. “Shoot!” he said calmly. “Death cannot come too soon now.” At the same instant von Horn pulled the trigger. The giant’s head fell back, he staggered, whirled about, and crumpled to the earth just as Virginia Maxon’s arms closed about him. Von Horn rushed close and pushing the girl aside pressed the muzzle of his gun to Bulan’s temple, but an avalanche of wrinkled, yellow skin was upon him before he could pull the trigger a second time, and Sing had hurled him back a dozen feet and snatched his weapon.