it would be impossible to paint the despair that wrung her brother’s heart, as he stood with upturned face and eyes bent upon a scene in which he had no longer the power to take part.

not much less intense was the agonised emotion of murtagh; for little helen was almost as dear to the irishman as if she had been his own daughter.

neither could have any other thought than that the child was lost beyond hope of recovery. she would either be torn to pieces by the claws of the monster, or by its great yellow teeth, already displayed to their view, and flung in mangled fragments to the ground. they actually stood for some time in expectation of seeing this sad catastrophe; and it would be vain to attempt any description of their emotions.

it was no relief when the two hunters came up, as they did at that instant, on their return from the chase. their approach for the last two or three hundred yards had been hastened into a run by the shrieks of helen and the shouts of henry and murtagh. their arrival only added two new figures to the tableau of distress, and two voices to its expression.

the ape could still be seen through the foliage ascending to the top of the tree; but captain redwood felt that the rifle he held in his hands, though sure of aim and fatal in effect, was of no more use than if it had been a piece of wood.

saloo had the same feeling in regard to his blow-gun. the rifle might send a deadly bullet through the skull of the gorilla, and the latter pierce its body with an arrow that would carry a quick-spreading poison through its veins.

but to what purpose, even though they could be certain of killing it? its death would be also the death of the child. she was still living, and apparently unhurt; for they could see her moving, and hear her voice, as she was carried onward and upward in that horrible embrace.

captain redwood dared not send a bullet nor saloo an arrow. slight as the chances were of saving the girl, either would have made them slighter. a successful shot of the rifle or puff of the blow-gun would be as fatal to the abducted as the abductor; and the former, with or without the latter, would be certain to fall to the foot of the tree. it was a hundred feet sheer from the point which the ape had attained to the ground. the child would not only be killed, but crushed to a shapeless mass.

ah me! what a terrible scene for her father! what a spectacle for him to contemplate!

and as he stood in unutterable agony, his companions gathered around, all helpless and irresolute as to how they should act, they saw the ape suddenly change his direction, and move outward from the trunk of the tree along one of its largest limbs. this trended off in a nearly horizontal direction, at its end interlocking with a limb of the neighbouring tree, which stretched out as if to shake hands with it.

a distance of more than fifty feet lay between the two trunks, but their branches met in close embrace.

the purpose of the ape was apparent. it designed passing from one to the other, and thence into the depths of the forest.

the design was quickly followed by its execution. as the spectators rushed to the side by which the gorilla was retreating, they saw it lay hold of the interlocking twigs, draw the branch nearer, bridge the space between with its long straggling arm, and then bound from one to the other with the agility of a squirrel.

and this with the use of only one arm, for by the other the child was still carried in the same close hug. its legs acted as arms, and for travelling through the tree-tops three were sufficient.

on into the heart of the deep foliage of the second tree, and without a pause on into the next; along another pair of counterpart limbs, which, intertwining their leafy sprays and boughs, still further into the forest, all the time bearing its precious burden along with it.

the agonised father ran below, rifle in hand. he might as well have been without one, for all the use he dared to make of it.

and henry, too, followed with the ship’s musket. true, it had missed fire, and the damp priming was still in the pan. damp or dry, it now mattered not. saloo’s sumpitan was an equally ineffective weapon. murtagh with his fishing-hooks might as well have thought of capturing the monster with a bait.

on it scrambled from tree to tree, and on ran the pursuers underneath, yet with no thought of being able to stay its course. they were carried forward by the mere mechanical instinct to keep it in sight, with perhaps some slight hope that in the end something might occur—some interruption might arise by which they would be enabled to effect a rescue of the child from its horrible captor.

it was at best but a faint consolation. nor would they have cherished it, but for their trust in a higher power than their own. of themselves they knew they could not let or hinder the abductor in its flight.

all felt their own helplessness. but it is just in that supreme moment, when man feels his utter weakness, that his vague trust in a superior being becomes a devout and perfect faith.

captain redwood was not what is usually called a religious man, meaning thereby a strict adherent to the church, and a regular observer of its ordinances. for all this he was a firm believer in the existence of a providential and protecting power.

his exclamations were many, and not very coherent; but their burden was ever a prayer to god for the preservation of his daughter.

“helen, my child! helen! what will become of her? o father! o god, protect her!”