“I tried to fire again, but he wrenched the pistol away, and bent it in his huge teeth and flung it down. But, though he was raging, he didn't wound me--didn't try to kill me, or anything. He seemed to want to capture me alive--”
Allan shuddered. Only too well he understood. Gorilla nature had not changed in fifteen hundred years.
“After that?” he questioned eagerly.
“Oh, after that I don't remember much. I must have fainted. Next thing I knew, everything was dark and the forest was all about. I screamed and then again I knew nothing. Once more I seemed to sense things, and once more all grew black. And after that--”
“Well?”
“Why--I was here on the bed, and you were beside me, Allan--and these men of our Folk were here! But how it all happened, God knows!”
“I'll tell you some time. You shall have the story from our side some day, but not now. Only one thing--if it hadn't been for Zangamon here and Bremilu--well--”
“You mean they helped rescue me?”
He nodded.
“Without them I'd have been helpless as a child. They traced you in the dark, for they could see as plainly as we see by day. It was a blow from Bremilu's stone ax that killed the brute. They saved you, Beatrice! Not I!”