The close sympathy into which Ching and Tue were come was fast throwing its charm about the girl. She could not but be proud of such intimate association with the pride of Apeland. But soon occurred something that changed the life-histories of a race.

Tue raised her beautiful, tearful eyes to her companion's face, and involuntarily gave him a tender glance. This was a spark in tinder. Ching seized her hand, and poured out his pentup passion in a resistless torrent. The maiden's breath was quite taken away, at the first plunge in this deluge of sentiment. She listened with ever-increasing alarm, until she found a chance to implore, "No more! oh, no more!" But Ching was fairly beside himself; his love told, he prayed her to assure him of its return. He had held her hand; he threw his arm round her waist, drew her to his breast, and bent his lips to hers.

At this bold act Tue, who had been stupefied at Ching's unexpected avowal, started from him in terror, and fled into the forest. Ching, not looking for such an act, had not closed his arm firmly around her. As she melted from his embrace he stood for a moment gazing in vacant surprise at his empty arm; then he gave chase.

He ran on for five minutes, making no account of the dead boughs and thorny vines that impeded his way; then realizing that he must be on the wrong path, he stopped to consider. The girl could not be far from him, that was sure; he therefore rushed to this side and to that, vainly hoping to catch a glimpse of the fair. At last, tired out, he sat down to rest; and then, for the first time, he noticed that day was nearly done. He was frightened, now, for the girl's sake; he shouted, "Tue! Tue! You will be lost! I promise not to touch you; only come here, and let us go home." But the girl did not answer; and after another unsuccessful search for her he was forced to start home without her.

Meanwhile Tue had been lucky in her escape. The noise that Ching made in crashing through the bushes had warned her of his whereabouts; and she had only to keep out of his path. She hurried on for more than a mile, when the distant roar of the ocean called her to herself; she looked around her, and saw the sun setting, and the forest unfamiliar.

She was brave enough at home; but here, alone, exposed to she knew not what perils, her courage failed her. With a wild cry, she turned in the direction in which she supposed the village to be. She had not gone many feet, however, when she saw what she most of all dreaded, - an ape; Ching, of course.

She shrieked, and started back; the ape pursued and soon caught her. When she heard his step behind, she threw up her arms in agony and fainted. The youth stopped, bewildered; he was not Ching.

(To be continued.)