“They are like us,” replied Number Three. “They must be our own people. I am going with them.” “And I,” said Number Ten. “And I,” echoed Number Twelve. “At last we have found our own, let us all go with them and live with them, far away from the men who would beat us with great whips, and cut us with their sharp swords.” “They are not human beings,” exclaimed Bulan. “We cannot live with them.” “Neither are we human beings,” retorted Number Twelve. “Has not von Horn told us so many times?” “If I am not now a human being,” replied Bulan, “I intend to be one, and so I shall act as a human being should act. I shall not go to live with savage beasts, nor shall you. Come with me as I tell you, or you shall again taste the bull whip.” “We shall do as we please,” growled Number Ten, baring his fangs. “You are not our master. We have followed you as long as we intend to. We are tired of forever walking, walking, walking through the bushes that tear our flesh and hurt us. Go and be a human being if you think you can, but do not longer interfere with us or we shall kill you,” and he looked first at Number Three and then at Number Twelve for approval of his ultimatum. Number Three nodded his grotesque and hideous head—he was so covered with long black hair that he more nearly resembled an ourang outang than a human being. Number Twelve looked doubtful. “I think Number Ten is right,” he said at last. “We are not human. We have no souls. We are things. And while you, Bulan, are beautiful, yet you are as much a soulless thing as we—that much von Horn taught us well. So I believe that it would be better were we to keep forever from the sight of men. I do not much like the thought of living with these strange, hairy monsters, but we might find a place here in the jungle where we could live alone and in peace.” “I do not want to live alone,” cried Number Three. “I want a mate, and I see a beautiful one yonder now. I am going after her,” and with that he again started toward a female ourang outang; but the lady bared her fangs and retreated before his advance. “Even the beasts will have none of us,” cried Number Ten angrily. “Let us take them by force then,” and he started after Number Three. “Come back!” shouted Bulan, leaping after the two deserters. As he raised his voice there came an answering cry from a little distance ahead—a cry for help, and it was in the agonized tones of a woman’s voice. “I am coming!” shouted Bulan, and without another glance at his mutinous crew he sprang through the line of menacing ourang outangs. 12 PERFIDY On the morning that Bulan set out with his three monsters from the deserted long-house in which they had spent the night, Professor Maxon’s party was speeding up the river, constantly buoyed with hope by the repeated reports of natives that the white girl had been seen passing in a war prahu.