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have felt less fear of the giant flying machine and would have known only too well

how to wreck it."

"Let us pray that the black sergeant has not discovered it," said the girl.

They made their way to a point which they guessed was about a mile above the

village, then they turned into the trackless tangle of undergrowth to the east. So

dense was the verdure at many points that it was with the utmost difficulty they

wormed their way through, sometimes on hands and knees and again by

clambering over numerous fallen tree trunks. Interwoven with dead limbs and

living branches were the tough and ropelike creepers which formed a tangled

network across their path.

South of them in an open meadowland a number of black warriors were gathered

about an object which elicited much wondering comment. The blacks were

clothed in fragments of what had once been uniforms of a native German

command. They were a most unlovely band and chief among them in authority

and repulsiveness was the black sergeant Usanga. The object of their interest was

a British aeroplane.

Immediately after the Englishman had been brought to Numabo's village Usanga

had gone out in search of the plane, prompted partially by curiosity and partially

by an intention to destroy it, but when he had found it, some new thought had

deterred him from carrying out his design. The thing represented considerable

value as he well knew and it had occurred to him that in some way he might turn

his prize to profit. Every day he had returned to it, and while at first it had filled

him with considerable awe, he eventually came to look upon it with the

accustomed eye of a proprietor, so that he now clambered into the fuselage and

even advanced so far as to wish that he might learn to operate it.

What a feat it would be indeed to fly like a bird far above the highest tree top!

How it would fill his less favored companions with awe and admiration! If Usanga

could but fly, so great would be the respect of all the tribesmen throughout the

scattered villages of the great interior, they would look upon him as little less

than a god.

Usanga rubbed his palms together and smacked his thick lips. Then indeed,

would he be very rich, for all the villages would pay tribute to him and he could

even have as many as a dozen wives. With that thought, however, came a mental

picture of Naratu, the black termagant, who ruled him with an iron hand. Usanga

made a wry face and tried to forget the extra dozen wives, but the lure of the idea

remained and appealed so strongly to him that he presently found himself

120

Tarzan the Untamed