“Why did you attack me? I came in peace.”
“Another white man ‘came in peace’ three moons ago,” replied Kaviri; “and after we had brought him presents of a goat and cassava and milk, he set upon us with his guns and killed many of my people, and then went on his way, taking all of our goats and many of our young men and women.”
“I am not as this other white man,” replied Tarzan. “I should not have harmed you had you not set upon me. Tell me, what was the face of this bad white man like? I am searching for one who has wronged me. Possibly this may be the very one.”
“He was a man with a bad face, covered with a great, black beard, and he was very, very wicked—yes, very wicked indeed.”
“Was there a little white child with him?” asked Tarzan, his heart almost stopped as he awaited the black’s answer.
“No, bwana,” replied Kaviri, “the white child was not with this man’s party—it was with the other party.”
“Other party!” exclaimed Tarzan. “What other party?”
“With the party that the very bad white man was pursuing. There was a white man, woman, and the child, with six Mosula porters. They passed up the river three days ahead of the very bad white man. I think that they were running away from him.”
A white man, woman, and child! Tarzan was puzzled. The child must be his little Jack; but who could the woman be—and the man? Was it possible that one of Rokoff’s confederates had conspired with some woman—who had accompanied the Russian—to steal the baby from him?
If this was the case, they had doubtless purposed returning the child to civilization and there either claiming a reward or holding the little prisoner for ransom.