The Beasts of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 116

He had forgotten for the moment that
these were but beasts, unable to differentiate his friends and his
foes. Their savage natures were roused by their recent battle with the
sailors, and now all flesh outside the pack was meat to them.

Tarzan turned again toward the Russian, chagrined that he should have
to forgo the pleasure of personal revenge--unless the man should escape
Sheeta. But as he looked he saw that there could be no hope of that.
The fellow had retreated to the end of the bridge, where he now stood
trembling and wide-eyed, facing the beast that moved slowly toward him.

The panther crawled with belly to the planking, uttering uncanny
mouthings. Rokoff stood as though petrified, his eyes protruding from
their sockets, his mouth agape, and the cold sweat of terror clammy
upon his brow.

Below him, upon the deck, he had seen the great anthropoids, and so had
not dared to seek escape in that direction. In fact, even now one of
the brutes was leaping to seize the bridge-rail and draw himself up to
the Russian's side.

Before him was the panther, silent and crouched.

Rokoff could not move. His knees trembled. His voice broke in
inarticulate shrieks. With a last piercing wail he sank to his
knees--and then Sheeta sprang.

Full upon the man's breast the tawny body hurtled, tumbling the Russian
to his back.

As the great fangs tore at the throat and chest, Jane Clayton turned
away in horror; but not so Tarzan of the Apes. A cold smile of
satisfaction touched his lips. The scar upon his forehead that had
burned scarlet faded to the normal hue of his tanned skin and

Rokoff fought furiously but futilely against the growling, rending fate
that had overtaken him. For all his countless crimes he was punished
in the brief moment of the hideous death that claimed him at the last.

After his struggles ceased Tarzan approached, at Jane's suggestion, to
wrest the body from the panther and give what remained of it decent
human burial; but the great cat rose snarling above its kill,
threatening even the master it loved in its savage way, so that rather
than kill his friend of the jungle, Tarzan was forced to relinquish his

All that night Sheeta, the panther, crouched upon the grisly thing that
had been Nikolas Rokoff. The bridge of the Kincaid was slippery with
blood. Beneath the brilliant tropic moon the great beast feasted
until, when the sun rose the following morning, there remained of
Tarzan's great enemy

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