So they set out, D'Arnot marveling as had Clayton and
Jane at the wondrous strength and agility of the apeman.
Mid-afternoon brought them to the clearing, and as Tarzan
dropped to earth from the branches of the last tree his heart
leaped and bounded against his ribs in anticipation of seeing
Jane so soon again.
No one was in sight outside the cabin, and D'Arnot was
perplexed to note that neither the cruiser nor the Arrow was
at anchor in the bay.
An atmosphere of loneliness pervaded the spot, which
caught suddenly at both men as they strode toward the cabin.
Neither spoke, yet both knew before they opened the
closed door what they would find beyond.
Tarzan lifted the latch and pushed the great door in upon
its wooden hinges. It was as they had feared. The cabin was
deserted.
The men turned and looked at one another. D'Arnot knew
that his people thought him dead; but Tarzan thought only of
the woman who had kissed him in love and now had fled
from him while he was serving one of her people.
A great bitterness rose in his heart. He would go away, far
into the jungle and join his tribe. Never would he see one of
his own kind again, nor could he bear the thought of returning
to the cabin. He would leave that forever behind him
with the great hopes he had nursed there of finding his own
race and becoming a man among men.
And the Frenchman? D'Arnot? What of him? He could get
along as Tarzan had.
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