Jungle Tales of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 107

had cast him.
The sullen bulls of the older generation still hated him as beasts hate
those of whom they are suspicious, whose scent characteristic is the
scent characteristic of an alien order and, therefore, of an enemy
order. The younger bulls, those who had grown up through childhood as
his playmates, were as accustomed to Tarzan's scent as to that of any
other member of the tribe. They felt no greater suspicion of him than
of any other bull of their acquaintance; yet they did not love him, for
they loved none outside the mating season, and the animosities aroused
by other bulls during that season lasted well over until the next.
They were a morose and peevish band at best, though here and there were
those among them in whom germinated the primal seeds of
humanity--reversions to type, these, doubtless; reversions to the
ancient progenitor who took the first step out of ape-hood toward
humanness, when he walked more often upon his hind feet and discovered
other things for idle hands to do.

So now Tarzan led where he could not yet command. He had long since
discovered the apish propensity for mimicry and learned to make use of
it. Having filled his arms with fragments of rotted granite, he
clambered again into a tree, and it pleased him to see that the apes
had followed his example.

During the brief respite while they were gathering their ammunition,
Numa had settled himself to feed; but scarce had he arranged himself
and his kill when a sharp piece of rock hurled by the practiced hand of
the ape-man struck him upon the cheek. His sudden roar of pain and
rage was smothered by a volley from the apes, who had seen Tarzan's
act. Numa shook his massive head and glared upward at his tormentors.
For a half hour they pursued him with rocks and broken branches, and
though he dragged his kill into densest thickets, yet they always found
a way to reach him with their missiles, giving him no opportunity to
feed, and driving him on and on.

The hairless ape-thing with the man scent was worst of all, for he had
even the temerity to advance upon the ground to within a few yards of
the Lord of the Jungle, that he might with greater accuracy and force
hurl the sharp bits of granite and the heavy sticks at him. Time and
again did Numa charge--sudden, vicious charges--but the lithe, active
tormentor always managed to elude him and with such insolent ease that
the lion forgot even

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