"Constance!" he cried, gathering her to his breast. Languidly she opened her cloudy eyes. He held her close, heedless of
the screams and devastation surging about them. Slowly recognition grew
in those lovely eyes. "Bristol!" she murmured, incoherently. Then she screamed, clung to him,
sobbing hysterically. "Bristol! They told me you were dead! The blacks! The horrible blacks! They're going to kill me! They were going to kill
De Albor too, but he promised to sacrifice----"

"Don't, girl, don't!" He subdued her frantic tremblings. "It's all
right, now----" Abruptly he looked up into the grinning blood-stained
face of nightmare and death. The great ape had ceased to rend his
dead victims and was slinking toward the living pair in the center of
the glade. Blood oozed from the wound in its sloping skull that had
maddened it. McGrath sprang toward it, shielding the prostrate girl; his pistol
spurted flame, pouring a stream of lead into the mighty breast as the
beast charged. On it came, and his confidence waned. Bullet after bullet he sent
crashing into its vitals, but it did not halt. Now he dashed the empty
gun full into the gargoyle face without effect, and with a lurch and a
roll it had him in its grasp. As the giant arms closed crushingly about
him, he abandoned all hope, but following his fighting instinct to the
last, he drove his dagger hilt-deep in the shaggy belly. But even as he struck, he felt a shudder run through the gigantic
frame. The great arms fell away--and then he was hurled to the ground
in the last death throes of the monster, and the thing was swaying,
its face a death-mask. Dead on its feet, it crumpled, toppled to the
ground, quivered and lay still. Not even a man-eating ape of Zambebwei
could survive that close-range volley of mushrooming lead. As the man staggered up, Constance rose and reeled into his arms,
crying hysterically. "It's all right _now_, Constance," he panted, crushing her to him. "The
Zemba's dead; De Albor's dead; Ballville's dead; the negroes have run
away. There's nothing to prevent us leaving now. The Moon of Zambebwei