Tarzan the Terrible

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 44

that secured his wrists. They seemed none too
stout and they had tied his hands in front of him! Evidence indeed that
the Waz-don took few prisoners--if any.

Cautiously he raised his wrists until he could examine the thongs that
confined them. A grim smile lighted his features. Instantly he was at
work upon the bonds with his strong teeth, but ever a wary eye was upon
In-tan, the warrior of Kor-ul-lul. The last knot had been loosened and
Tarzan's hands were free when In-tan turned to cast an appraising eye
upon his ward. He saw that the prisoner's position was changed--he no
longer lay upon his back as they had left him, but upon his side and
his hands were drawn up against his face. In-tan came closer and bent
down. The bonds seemed very loose upon the prisoner's wrists. He
extended his hand to examine them with his fingers and instantly the
two hands leaped from their bonds--one to seize his own wrist, the
other his throat. So unexpected the catlike attack that In-tan had not
even time to cry out before steel fingers silenced him. The creature
pulled him suddenly forward so that he lost his balance and rolled over
upon the prisoner and to the floor beyond to stop with Tarzan upon his
breast. In-tan struggled to release himself--struggled to draw his
knife; but Tarzan found it before him. The Waz-don's tail leaped to the
other's throat, encircling it--he too could choke; but his own knife,
in the hands of his antagonist, severed the beloved member close to its
root.

The Waz-don's struggles became weaker--a film was obscuring his vision.
He knew that he was dying and he was right. A moment later he was dead.
Tarzan rose to his feet and placed one foot upon the breast of his dead
foe. How the urge seized him to roar forth the victory cry of his kind!
But he dared not. He discovered that they had not removed his rope from
his shoulders and that they had replaced his knife in its sheath. It
had been in his hand when he was felled. Strange creatures! He did not
know that they held a superstitious fear of the weapons of a dead
enemy, believing that if buried without them he would forever haunt his
slayers in search of them and that when he found them he would kill the
man who killed him. Against the wall leaned his bow and quiver of
arrows.

Tarzan stepped toward the doorway of the cave and looked out. Night had
just fallen. He could hear voices from the

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