Tarzan the Terrible

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 160

less than a week--that is, it was made as safe as
it ever would be, though regardless of how long she might occupy it she
would keep on adding touches and refinements here and there.

Her daily life was filled with her house building and her hunting, to
which was added an occasional spice of excitement contributed by roving
lions. To the woodcraft that she had learned from Tarzan, that master
of the art, was added a considerable store of practical experience
derived from her own past adventures in the jungle and the long months
with Obergatz, nor was any day now lacking in some added store of
useful knowledge. To these facts was attributable her apparent immunity
from harm, since they told her when JA was approaching before he crept
close enough for a successful charge and, too, they kept her close to
those never-failing havens of retreat--the trees.

The nights, filled with their weird noises, were lonely and depressing.
Only her ability to sleep quickly and soundly made them endurable. The
first night that she spent in her completed house behind barred windows
and barricaded door was one of almost undiluted peace and happiness.
The night noises seemed far removed and impersonal and the soughing of
the wind in the trees was gently soothing. Before, it had carried a
mournful note and was sinister in that it might hide the approach of
some real danger. That night she slept indeed.

She went further afield now in search of food. So far nothing but
rodents had fallen to her spear--her ambition was an antelope, since
beside the flesh it would give her, and the gut for her bow, the hide
would prove invaluable during the colder weather that she knew would
accompany the rainy season. She had caught glimpses of these wary
animals and was sure that they always crossed the stream at a certain
spot above her camp. It was to this place that she went to hunt them.
With the stealth and cunning of a panther she crept through the forest,
circling about to get up wind from the ford, pausing often to look and
listen for aught that might menace her--herself the personification of
a hunted deer. Now she moved silently down upon the chosen spot. What
luck! A beautiful buck stood drinking in the stream. The woman wormed
her way closer. Now she lay upon her belly behind a small bush within
throwing distance of the quarry. She must rise to her full height and
throw her spear almost in the same instant and she must throw it with

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