The Return of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 168

the jungle of Tarzan of the Apes had taught him which of
the many growing things were edible, and after nearly an hour of
absence he returned to the beach with a little armful of food.

The rain had ceased, and the hot sun was beating down so mercilessly
upon her that Jane Porter insisted on making an immediate attempt to
gain the land. Still further invigorated by the food Clayton had
brought, the three were able to reach the half shade of the small tree
to which their boat was moored. Here, thoroughly exhausted, they threw
themselves down to rest, sleeping until dark.

For a month they lived upon the beach in comparative safety. As their
strength returned the two men constructed a rude shelter in the
branches of a tree, high enough from the ground to insure safety from
the larger beasts of prey. By day they gathered fruits and trapped
small rodents; at night they lay cowering within their frail shelter
while savage denizens of the jungle made hideous the hours of darkness.

They slept upon litters of jungle grasses, and for covering at night
Jane Porter had only an old ulster that belonged to Clayton, the same
garment that he had worn upon that memorable trip to the Wisconsin
woods. Clayton had erected a frail partition of boughs to divide their
arboreal shelter into two rooms--one for the girl and the other for
Monsieur Thuran and himself.

From the first the Russian had exhibited every trait of his true
character--selfishness, boorishness, arrogance, cowardice, and lust.
Twice had he and Clayton come to blows because of Thuran's attitude
toward the girl. Clayton dared not leave her alone with him for an
instant. The existence of the Englishman and his fiancee was one
continual nightmare of horror, and yet they lived on in hope of
ultimate rescue.

Jane Porter's thoughts often reverted to her other experience on this
savage shore. Ah, if the invincible forest god of that dead past were
but with them now. No longer would there be aught to fear from
prowling beasts, or from the bestial Russian. She could not well
refrain from comparing the scant protection afforded her by Clayton
with what she might have expected had Tarzan of the Apes been for a
single instant confronted by the sinister and menacing attitude of
Monsieur Thuran. Once, when Clayton had gone to the little stream for
water, and Thuran had spoken coarsely to her, she voiced her thoughts.

"It is well for you, Monsieur Thuran," she said, "that the

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