The Monster Men

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 97

thoroughly frightened at the mere sight of the white giant of whom
they had heard such terrible stories, turned and hastened back in the
direction from which they had come, leaving the man to what seemed must
be a speedy and horrible death.

Sing Lee was astounded at the perfidy of the act. To Bulan alone was
due the entire credit of having rescued Professor Maxon's daughter, and
yet in the very presence of his self-sacrificing loyalty and devotion
von Horn had deserted him without making the least attempt to aid him.
But the wrinkled old Chinaman was made of different metal, and had
started forward to assist Bulan when a heavy hand suddenly fell upon
his shoulder. Looking around he saw the hideous face of Number Ten
snarling into his. The bloodshot eyes of the monster were flaming with
rage. He had been torn and chewed by the bull with which he had
fought, and though he had finally overcome and killed the beast, a
female which he had pursued had eluded him. In a frenzy of passion and
blood lust aroused by his wounds, disappointment and the taste of warm
blood which still smeared his lips and face, he had been seeking the
female when he suddenly stumbled upon the hapless Sing.

With a roar he grasped the Chinaman as though to break him in two, but
Sing was not at all inclined to give up his life without a struggle,
and Number Ten was quick to learn that no mean muscles moved beneath
that wrinkled, yellow hide.

There could, however, have been but one outcome to the unequal struggle
had Sing not been armed with a revolver, though it was several seconds
before he could bring it into play upon the great thing that shook and
tossed him about as though he had been a rat in the mouth of a terrier.
But suddenly there was the sharp report of a firearm, and another of
Professor Maxon's unhappy experiments sank back into the nothingness
from which he had conjured it.

Then Sing turned his attention to Bulan and his three savage
assailants, but, except for the dead body of a bull ourang outang upon
the spot where he had last seen the four struggling, there was no sign
either of the white man or his antagonists; nor, though he listened
attentively, could he catch the slightest sound within the jungle other
than the rustling of the leaves and the raucous cries of the brilliant
birds that flitted among the gorgeous blooms about him.

For half an hour he

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