from branch to branch, and tree to tree, the red gorilla continued its swift advance; still bearing with it the little helen.

from trunk to trunk, the pursuers crawled through the underwood beneath, feeling as helpless as ever.

what was to be the end of this strangely singular pursuit they could not tell, for they had never before—and perhaps no man at any time had—taken part in such a chase, or even heard of one so terrible.

they could offer no conjecture as to what might be its termination; but moved forward mechanically, keeping the gorilla in sight.

was helen yet living, or was she dead? no cry came from her lips, no word, no sound! had the life been crushed out of her body by the pressure of that strong muscular arm, twined round her like the limb of an oak? or was the silence due to temporary loss of feeling?

she might well have swooned away in such a situation; and her father, struggling with faint hopes, would have been glad to think this was indeed the case.

no signs could be gained from what they heard, and none from what they saw. they were now passing through the very depth of the forest—a tropical forest, with the trees meeting overhead, and not a speck of sky visible through the interwoven branches, loaded with their thick festoons of leaves and lianas.

they were gliding through dense arcades, lit up with just sufficient sunshine to wear the sombre shadows of a dusky twilight. there were even places where the retreating form of the ape could not have been distinguishable in the obscurity, but for the white drapery of the child’s dress, now torn into shreds, and flaunting like streamers behind it. these luckily served as a beacon to guide them on through the gloom.

now and then the chase led them into less shady depths, where the sunlight fell more freely through the leafy screen above. at such points they could obtain a better view, both of the red abductor and its captive.

but even then only a glimpse—the speed at which the gorilla was going, as well as the foliage that intervened, preventing any lengthened observation.

nor were the pursuers at any time able to get sight of the child’s face. it appeared to be turned toward the animal’s breast, her head buried in its coarse shaggy hair, with which her own tresses were mingled in strange contrast.

even her form could not be clearly distinguished. as far as they could decide by their occasional glimpses, they thought she was still alive. the brute did not seem to treat her with any malevolent violence. only in a rude uncouth way; which, however, might suffice to cause the death of one so young and frail.

to depict the feelings of her father, under such circumstances, would be a task the most eloquent pen could not successfully attempt. agony like his can never be described. language possesses not the power. there are thoughts which lie too deep for words; passions whose expression defies the genius of the artist or the poet.

perhaps he was hindered from realising the full measure of his bereavement during the first moments of the pursuit. the excitement of the chase, and the incidents attending it—the hope still remaining that some chance would arise in their favour—the certainty, soon ascertained, that they could keep up with the ape, which, despite its agility in the trees, cannot outstrip a man pursuing it along the ground,—all these circumstances had hitherto withheld him from giving way to utter despair.

but the time had come when even these slight supports were to fail.

it was when they arrived upon the brink of a lagoon, and a water-surface gleamed before their eyes; reflected by a daylight that struggled dimly down through the tops of the tall trees.

the trees rose out of the water, their trunks wide apart, but their branches intermingling.

the path of our pursuers was interrupted—they saw it at once—but that of the pursued seemed continuous as before.

they were arrested suddenly on the brink of the lagoon, apparently with no chance of proceeding farther. they saw the red gorilla still climbing among the trees, with the white drapery streaming behind it.

soon they saw it not—only heard the crackle of twigs, and the swishing recoil of the branches, as its huge body swung from tree to tree.

the monster was now out of sight, along with its victim—a victim, in very truth, whether living or dead!

but for the support of murtagh and saloo, captain redwood would have fallen to the earth. in their arms he sobbed and gasped,—

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