"O-dan and In-sad shall go with us," announced Om-at, "we shall not need more. Tarzan, come with me and I shall show you where Pan-at-lee sleeps, though why you should wish to know I cannot guess—she is not there. I have looked for myself."
The two entered the cave where Om-at led the way to the apartment in which Es-sat had surprised Pan-at-lee the previous night.
"All here are hers," said Om-at, "except the war club lying on the floor—that was Es-sat's."
The ape-man moved silently about the apartment, the quivering of his sensitive nostrils scarcely apparent to his companion who only wondered what good purpose could be served here and chafed at the delay.
"Come!" said the ape-man, presently, and led the way toward the outer recess.
Here their three companions were awaiting them. Tarzan passed to the left side of the niche and examined the pegs that lay within reach. He looked at them but it was not his eyes that were examining them. Keener than his keen eyes was that marvelously trained sense of scent that had first been developed in him during infancy under the tutorage of his foster mother, Kala, the she-ape, and further sharpened in the grim jungles by that master teacher—the instinct of self-preservation.
From the left side of the niche he turned to the right. Om-at was becoming impatient.
"Let us be off," he said. "We must search for Pan-at-lee if we would ever find her."
"Where shall we search?" asked Tarzan.
Om-at scratched his head. "Where?" he repeated. "Why all Pal-ul-don, if necessary."