He remembered the cruel bull whip that always followed each new experiment on his part that did not coincide with the desires of his master, and as he thought of von Horn a nasty gleam shot his mismated eyes.
He tried to reach across the distance between the roof and the palisade, and in the attempt lost his balance and nearly precipitated himself to the ground below.
Cautiously he drew back, still looking about for some means to cross the chasm.One of the saplings of the roof, protruding beyond the palm leaf thatch, caught his attention.With a single wrench he tore it from its fastenings.Extending it toward the palisade he discovered that it just spanned the gap, but he dared not attempt to cross upon its single slender strand.
Quickly he ripped off a half dozen other poles from the roof, and laying them side by side, formed a safe and easy path to freedom.A moment more and he sat astride the top of the wall.Drawing the poles after him, he dropped them one by one to the ground outside the campong.Then he lowered himself to liberty.
Gathering the saplings under one huge arm he ran, lumberingly, into the jungle.He would not leave evidence of the havoc he had wrought; the fear of the bull whip was still strong upon him.The green foliage closed about him and the peaceful jungle gave no sign of the horrid brute that roamed its shadowed mazes.
As von Horn stepped into the campong his quick eye perceived the havoc that had been wrought with the roof at the east end of the shed.Quickly he crossed to the low structure.Within its compartments a number of deformed monsters squatted upon their haunches, or lay prone upon the native mats that covered the floor.
As the man entered they looked furtively at the bull whip which trailed from his right hand, and then glanced fearfully at one another as though questioning which was the malefactor on this occasion.
Von Horn ran his eyes over the hideous assemblage.
"Where is Number One?" he asked, directing his question toward a thing whose forehead gave greater promise of intelligence than any of his companions.
The one addressed shook his head.
Von Horn turned and made a circuit of the campong.
There was no sign of the missing one and no indication of any other irregularity than the demolished portion of the roof.With an expression of mild concern upon his face he entered the workshop.
"Number One has escaped into the jungle, Professor," he said.
Professor Maxon looked up in surprise, but before he had an opportunity to reply a woman's scream, shrill with horror, smote upon their startled ears.
Von Horn was the first to reach the campong of the whites.Professor Maxon was close behind him, and the faces of both were white with apprehension.
The enclosure was deserted.Not even Sing was there.
Without a word the two men sprang through the gateway and raced for the jungle in the direction from which that single, haunting cry had come.
Virginia Maxon, idling beneath the leafy shade of the tropical foliage, became presently aware that she had wandered farther from the campong than she had intended.
