Tarzan of the Apes

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 90

black woman, she was evidently connected in
some way to the girl, and so he liked her, also.

For the sailors, and especially Snipes, he had developed a great
hatred. He knew by their threatening gestures and by the expression
upon their evil faces that they were enemies of the others of the
party, and so he decided to watch closely.

Tarzan wondered why the men had gone into the jungle, nor did it ever
occur to him that one could become lost in that maze of undergrowth
which to him was as simple as is the main street of your own home town
to you.

When he saw the sailors row away toward the ship, and knew that the
girl and her companion were safe in his cabin, Tarzan decided to follow
the young man into the jungle and learn what his errand might be. He
swung off rapidly in the direction taken by Clayton, and in a short
time heard faintly in the distance the now only occasional calls of the
Englishman to his friends.

Presently Tarzan came up with the white man, who, almost fagged, was
leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from his forehead. The
ape-man, hiding safe behind a screen of foliage, sat watching this new
specimen of his own race intently.

At intervals Clayton called aloud and finally it came to Tarzan that he
was searching for the old man.

Tarzan was on the point of going off to look for them himself, when he
caught the yellow glint of a sleek hide moving cautiously through the
jungle toward Clayton.

It was Sheeta, the leopard. Now, Tarzan heard the soft bending of
grasses and wondered why the young white man was not warned. Could it
be he had failed to note the loud warning? Never before had Tarzan
known Sheeta to be so clumsy.

No, the white man did not hear. Sheeta was crouching for the spring,
and then, shrill and horrible, there rose from the stillness of the
jungle the awful cry of the challenging ape, and Sheeta turned,
crashing into the underbrush.

Clayton came to his feet with a start. His blood ran cold. Never in
all his life had so fearful a sound smote upon his ears. He was no
coward; but if ever man felt the icy fingers of fear upon his heart,
William Cecil Clayton, eldest son of Lord Greystoke of England, did
that day in the fastness of the African jungle.

The noise of some great body crashing through the underbrush so close
beside him, and

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