Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1919-08-23

from him what horrd secret he
dared not even guess.
Slowly, with leaden feet, he
moved toward the door. Gropingly
his hand reached for the knob.
Thus he stood for another long
minute, and then with a sudden
gesture he Strengthened his giant
frame, threw back his mighty
shoulders and with fearless head
held high, swung back the door and
stepped across the threshold into
the room which held for him the
dearest me:@ories and associations
of his life. No change of express
| sion crossed his grim and stern-set
features as he strobe across the
room and stood beside the little
couch and the inanimate form which
lay face downward upon it, the still,
silent thing that had once been
Jane Clayton, Lady Greystoke.
No tear dimmed the eye of the
aEe-man, but the God who made
him alone could know the thoughts
that passed through that still half
savage brain. For a long time he
stood there gazing down upon the
dead body of his mate; then he
stopped and lifted her in his arms,
and as he turned the body over and
saw how horribly death had been
meted to her, he plumbed, in that
instant, the uttermost depths of
grief and horror and hatred.
Nor did he require the evidence
of the broken German rife in the
outer room or the torn and blood
stained service cap upon the floor
to tell him who had been the per-
petrators of this horrid and useless
crime.
In silence, in love and in rever-
ance, he buried them in the little
rose garden that had been her pride
and her love-the white and beauti-
full lady beside the great black
warriors who had given their lives
so futilely in her protection.
At one side of the house Tarzan
found other new-made graves, and
in these he sought final evidence of
the identity of the real perpetrators
of the atrocities that had been COM
mitted there in his absence.
Here he disinterred the bodies of
dozen German Askaris and found
upon their uniforms the insignia of
the company and regiment to which
they had belonged. This was enough
for the ape-man. White officers
had commanded these men, nor
would it be a difficult task to dis
! cover who they were.
Returning to the rose garden, he
stood among the Hun-trampled
blooms and bushes above the grave
: of his dead mate-with bowed head
he stood there in last, mute fare.
7 well. AS the sun sank slowly be,
. hind the towering forests to the
west, he turned slowly away upor
/ the still distinct trail of Hauptmanr
! Fritz Schneider and his blood
l stained company.
His was the suffering of thu
dumb mute-mute, but no les!
poignant. At first his vast sorrow
nmbed his other faculties o,
d thought-his brain was overwhelm
n ed by the calamity to such an ex
r tent that it reacted to but a singl,
S objective suggestion: She is dead
8 She is dead! She is dead! Again
e and again this phrase beat .monot
e onously upon his brain, a dull
!. throbbing pain; yet mechanical,
y his feet followed the trail of he
r slayer while, subconsciously, hi
y every sense was upon the alert TO
IS the ever-present perils of the jungle
= Gradually the labor of his grea
grief brought forth another emotio
l. SO real, 50 tangible that it SCENE
Il a companion walking at his side.
y was hate, and it brought 70 him
d measure Of solaee and of/cemfoR