The Son of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 200

the beast. He shrieked aloud to Korak. "Help!
Help! The devil is going to kill me!"

Korak ran from the tent just in time to see the enraged elephant's
trunk encircle the beast's victim, and then hammock, canopy and man
were swung high over Tantor's head. Korak leaped before the animal,
commanding him to put down his prey unharmed; but as well might he have
ordered the eternal river to reverse its course. Tantor wheeled around
like a cat, hurled Malbihn to the earth and kneeled upon him with the
quickness of a cat. Then he gored the prostrate thing through and
through with his mighty tusks, trumpeting and roaring in his rage, and
at last, convinced that no slightest spark of life remained in the
crushed and lacerated flesh, he lifted the shapeless clay that had been
Sven Malbihn far aloft and hurled the bloody mass, still entangled in
canopy and hammock, over the boma and out into the jungle.

Korak stood looking sorrowfully on at the tragedy he gladly would have
averted. He had no love for the Swede, in fact only hatred; but he
would have preserved the man for the sake of the secret he possessed.
Now that secret was gone forever unless The Sheik could be made to
divulge it; but in that possibility Korak placed little faith.

The ape-man, as unafraid of the mighty Tantor as though he had not just
witnessed his shocking murder of a human being, signalled the beast to
approach and lift him to its head, and Tantor came as he was bid,
docile as a kitten, and hoisted The Killer tenderly aloft.

From the safety of their hiding places in the jungle Malbihn's boys had
witnessed the killing of their master, and now, with wide, frightened
eyes, they saw the strange white warrior, mounted upon the head of his
ferocious charger, disappear into the jungle at the point from which he
had emerged upon their terrified vision.




Chapter 25


The Sheik glowered at the prisoner which his two men brought back to
him from the North. He had sent the party after Abdul Kamak, and he
was wroth that instead of his erstwhile lieutenant they had sent back a
wounded and useless Englishman. Why had they not dispatched him where
they had found him? He was some penniless beggar of a trader who had
wandered from his own district and became lost. He was worthless. The
Sheik scowled terribly upon him.

"Who are you?" he asked in French.

"I am the Hon. Morison Baynes

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