บทที่ บทที่ 2 · The Capture of Tarzan

. The Capture of Tarzan

The black warriors labored in the humid heat of the jungle’s stifling

shade. With war spears they loosened the thick, black loam and the deep

layers of rotting vegetation. With heavy-nailed fingers they scooped

away the disintegrated earth from the center of the age-old game trail.

Often they ceased their labors to squat, resting and gossiping, with

much laughter, at the edge of the pit they were digging.

Against the boles of near-by trees leaned their long, oval shields of

thick buffalo hide, and the spears of those who were doing the

scooping. Sweat glistened upon their smooth, ebon skins, beneath which

rolled rounded muscles, supple in the perfection of nature’s

uncontaminated health.

A reed buck, stepping warily along the trail toward water, halted as a

burst of laughter broke upon his startled ears. For a moment he stood

statuesque but for his sensitively dilating nostrils; then he wheeled

and fled noiselessly from the terrifying presence of man.

A hundred yards away, deep in the tangle of impenetrable jungle, Numa,

the lion, raised his massive head. Numa had dined well until almost

daybreak and it had required much noise to awaken him. Now he lifted

his muzzle and sniffed the air, caught the acrid scent spoor of the

reed buck and the heavy scent of man. But Numa was well filled. With a

low, disgusted grunt he rose and slunk away.

Brilliantly plumaged birds with raucous voices darted from tree to

tree. Little monkeys, chattering and scolding, swung through the

swaying limbs above the black warriors. Yet they were alone, for the

teeming jungle with all its myriad life, like the swarming streets of a

great metropolis, is one of the loneliest spots in God’s great

universe.

But were they alone?

Above them, lightly balanced upon a leafy tree limb, a gray-eyed youth

watched with eager intentness their every move. The fire of hate,

restrained, smoldered beneath the lad’s evident desire to know the

purpose of the black men’s labors. Such a one as these it was who had

slain his beloved Kala. For them there could be naught but enmity, yet

he liked well to watch them, avid as he was for greater knowledge of

the ways of man.

He saw the pit grow in depth until a great hole yawned the width of the

trail—a hole which was amply large enough to hold at one time all of

the six excavators. Tarzan could not guess the purpose of so great a

labor. And when they cut long stakes, sharpened at their upper ends,

and set them at intervals upright in the bottom of the pit, his

wonderment but increased, nor was it satisfied with the placing of the

light cross-poles over the pit, or the careful arrangement of leaves

and earth which completely hid from view the work the black men had

performed.

When they were done they surveyed their handiwork with evident

satisfaction, and Tarzan surveyed it, too. Even to his practiced eye

there remained scarce a vestige of evidence that the ancient game trail

had been tampered with in any way.

So absorbed was the ape-man in speculation as to the purpose of the

covered pit that he permitted the blacks to depart in the direction of

their village without the usual baiting which had rendered him the

terror of Mbonga’s people and had afforded Tarzan both a vehicle of

revenge and a source of inexhaustible delight.

Puzzle as he would, however, he could not solve the mystery of the

concealed pit, for the ways of the blacks were still strange ways to

Tarzan. They had entered his jungle but a short time before—the first

of their kind to encroach upon the age-old supremacy of the beasts

which laired there. To Numa, the lion, to Tantor, the elephant, to the

great apes and the lesser apes, to each and all of the myriad creatures

of this savage wild, the ways of man were new. They had much to learn

of these black, hairless creatures that walked erect upon their hind

paws—and they were learning it slowly, and always to their sorrow.

Shortly after the blacks had departed, Tarzan swung easily to the

trail. Sniffing suspiciously, he circled the edge of the pit. Squatting

upon his haunches, he scraped away a little earth to expose one of the

cross-bars. He sniffed at this, touched it, cocked his head upon one

side, and contemplated it gravely for several minutes. Then he

carefully recovered it, arranging the earth as neatly as had the

blacks. This done, he swung himself back among the branches of the

trees and moved off in search of his hairy fellows, the great apes of

the tribe of Kerchak.

Once he crossed the trail of Numa, the lion, pausing for a moment to

hurl a soft fruit at the snarling face of his enemy, and to taunt and

insult him, calling him eater of carrion and brother of Dango, the

hyena. Numa, his yellow-green eyes round and burning with concentrated

hate, glared up at the dancing figure above him. Low growls vibrated

his heavy jowls and his great rage transmitted to his sinuous tail a

sharp, whiplike motion; but realizing from past experience the futility

of long distance argument with the ape-man, he turned presently and

struck off into the tangled vegetation which hid him from the view of

his tormentor. With a final scream of jungle invective and an apelike

grimace at his departing foe, Tarzan continued along his way.

Another mile and a shifting wind brought to his keen nostrils a

familiar, pungent odor close at hand, and a moment later there loomed

beneath him a huge, gray-black bulk forging steadily along the jungle

trail. Tarzan seized and broke a small tree limb, and at the sudden

cracking sound the ponderous figure halted. Great ears were thrown

forward, and a long, supple trunk rose quickly to wave to and fro in

search of the scent of an enemy, while two weak, little eyes peered

suspiciously and futilely about in quest of the author of the noise

which had disturbed his peaceful way.

Tarzan laughed aloud and came closer above the head of the pachyderm.

“Tantor! Tantor!” he cried. “Bara, the deer, is less fearful than

you—you, Tantor, the elephant, greatest of the jungle folk with the

strength of as many Numas as I have toes upon my feet and fingers upon

my hands. Tantor, who can uproot great trees, trembles with fear at the

sound of a broken twig.”

A rumbling noise, which might have been either a sign of contempt or a

sigh of relief, was Tantor’s only reply as the uplifted trunk and ears

came down and the beast’s tail dropped to normal; but his eyes still

roved about in search of Tarzan. He was not long kept in suspense,

however, as to the whereabouts of the ape-man, for a second later the

youth dropped lightly to the broad head of his old friend. Then

stretching himself at full length, he drummed with his bare toes upon

the thick hide, and as his fingers scratched the more tender surfaces

beneath the great ears, he talked to Tantor of the gossip of the jungle

as though the great beast understood every word that he said.

Much there was which Tarzan could make Tantor understand, and though

the small talk of the wild was beyond the great, gray dreadnaught of

the jungle, he stood with blinking eyes and gently swaying trunk as

though drinking in every word of it with keenest appreciation. As a

matter of fact it was the pleasant, friendly voice and caressing hands

behind his ears which he enjoyed, and the close proximity of him whom

he had often borne upon his back since Tarzan, as a little child, had

once fearlessly approached the great bull, assuming upon the part of

the pachyderm the same friendliness which filled his own heart.

In the years of their association Tarzan had discovered that he

possessed an inexplicable power to govern and direct his mighty friend.

At his bidding, Tantor would come from a great distance—as far as his

keen ears could detect the shrill and piercing summons of the

ape-man—and when Tarzan was squatted upon his head, Tantor would lumber

through the jungle in any direction which his rider bade him go. It was

the power of the man-mind over that of the brute and it was just as

effective as though both fully understood its origin, though neither

did.

For half an hour Tarzan sprawled there upon Tantor’s back. Time had no

meaning for either of them. Life, as they saw it, consisted principally

in keeping their stomachs filled. To Tarzan this was a less arduous

labor than to Tantor, for Tarzan’s stomach was smaller, and being

omnivorous, food was less difficult to obtain. If one sort did not come

readily to hand, there were always many others to satisfy his hunger.

He was less particular as to his diet than Tantor, who would eat only

the bark of certain trees, and the wood of others, while a third

appealed to him only through its leaves, and these, perhaps, just at

certain seasons of the year.

Tantor must needs spend the better part of his life in filling his

immense stomach against the needs of his mighty thews. It is thus with

all the lower orders—their lives are so occupied either with searching

for food or with the processes of digestion that they have little time

for other considerations. Doubtless it is this handicap which has kept

them from advancing as rapidly as man, who has more time to give to

thought upon other matters.

However, these questions troubled Tarzan but little, and Tantor not at

all. What the former knew was that he was happy in the companionship of

the elephant. He did not know why. He did not know that because he was

a human being—a normal, healthy human being—he craved some living thing

upon which to lavish his affection. His childhood playmates among the

apes of Kerchak were now great, sullen brutes. They felt nor inspired

but little affection. The younger apes Tarzan still played with

occasionally. In his savage way he loved them; but they were far from

satisfying or restful companions. Tantor was a great mountain of calm,

of poise, of stability. It was restful and satisfying to sprawl upon

his rough pate and pour one’s vague hopes and aspirations into the

great ears which flapped ponderously to and fro in apparent

understanding. Of all the jungle folk, Tantor commanded Tarzan’s

greatest love since Kala had been taken from him. Sometimes Tarzan

wondered if Tantor reciprocated his affection. It was difficult to

know.

It was the call of the stomach—the most compelling and insistent call

which the jungle knows—that took Tarzan finally back to the trees and

off in search of food, while Tantor continued his interrupted journey

in the opposite direction.

For an hour the ape-man foraged. A lofty nest yielded its fresh, warm

harvest. Fruits, berries, and tender plantain found a place upon his

menu in the order that he happened upon them, for he did not seek such

foods. Meat, meat, meat! It was always meat that Tarzan of the Apes

hunted; but sometimes meat eluded him, as today.

And as he roamed the jungle his active mind busied itself not alone

with his hunting, but with many other subjects. He had a habit of

recalling often the events of the preceding days and hours. He lived

over his visit with Tantor; he cogitated upon the digging blacks and

the strange, covered pit they had left behind them. He wondered again

and again what its purpose might be. He compared perceptions and

arrived at judgments. He compared judgments, reaching conclusions—not

always correct ones, it is true, but at least he used his brain for the

purpose God intended it, which was the less difficult because he was

not handicapped by the second-hand, and usually erroneous, judgments of

others.

And as he puzzled over the covered pit, there loomed suddenly before

his mental vision a huge, gray-black bulk which lumbered ponderously

along a jungle trail. Instantly Tarzan tensed to the shock of a sudden

fear. Decision and action usually occurred simultaneously in the life

of the ape-man, and now he was away through the leafy branches ere the

realization of the pit’s purpose had scarce formed in his mind.

Swinging from swaying limb to swaying limb, he raced through the middle

terraces where the trees grew close together. Again he dropped to the

ground and sped, silently and light of foot, over the carpet of

decaying vegetation, only to leap again into the trees where the

tangled undergrowth precluded rapid advance upon the surface.

In his anxiety he cast discretion to the winds. The caution of the

beast was lost in the loyalty of the man, and so it came that he

entered a large clearing, denuded of trees, without a thought of what

might lie there or upon the farther edge to dispute the way with him.

He was half way across when directly in his path and but a few yards

away there rose from a clump of tall grasses a half dozen chattering

birds. Instantly Tarzan turned aside, for he knew well enough what

manner of creature the presence of these little sentinels proclaimed.

Simultaneously Buto, the rhinoceros, scrambled to his short legs and

charged furiously. Haphazard charges Buto, the rhinoceros. With his

weak eyes he sees but poorly even at short distances, and whether his

erratic rushes are due to the panic of fear as he attempts to escape,

or to the irascible temper with which he is generally credited, it is

difficult to determine. Nor is the matter of little moment to one whom

Buto charges, for if he be caught and tossed, the chances are that

naught will interest him thereafter.

And today it chanced that Buto bore down straight upon Tarzan, across

the few yards of knee-deep grass which separated them. Accident started

him in the direction of the ape-man, and then his weak eyes discerned

the enemy, and with a series of snorts he charged straight for him. The

little rhino birds fluttered and circled about their giant ward. Among

the branches of the trees at the edge of the clearing, a score or more

monkeys chattered and scolded as the loud snorts of the angry beast

sent them scurrying affrightedly to the upper terraces. Tarzan alone

appeared indifferent and serene.

Directly in the path of the charge he stood. There had been no time to

seek safety in the trees beyond the clearing, nor had Tarzan any mind

to delay his journey because of Buto. He had met the stupid beast

before and held him in fine contempt.

And now Buto was upon him, the massive head lowered and the long, heavy

horn inclined for the frightful work for which nature had designed it;

but as he struck upward, his weapon raked only thin air, for the

ape-man had sprung lightly aloft with a catlike leap that carried him

above the threatening horn to the broad back of the rhinoceros. Another

spring and he was on the ground behind the brute and racing like a deer

for the trees.

Buto, angered and mystified by the strange disappearance of his prey,

wheeled and charged frantically in another direction, which chanced to

be not the direction of Tarzan’s flight, and so the ape-man came in

safety to the trees and continued on his swift way through the forest.

Some distance ahead of him Tantor moved steadily along the well-worn

elephant trail, and ahead of Tantor a crouching, black warrior listened

intently in the middle of the path. Presently he heard the sound for

which he had been hoping—the cracking, snapping sound which heralded

the approach of an elephant.

To his right and left in other parts of the jungle other warriors were

watching. A low signal, passed from one to another, apprised the most

distant that the quarry was afoot. Rapidly they converged toward the

trail, taking positions in trees down wind from the point at which

Tantor must pass them. Silently they waited and presently were rewarded

by the sight of a mighty tusker carrying an amount of ivory in his long

tusks that set their greedy hearts to palpitating.

No sooner had he passed their positions than the warriors clambered

from their perches. No longer were they silent, but instead clapped

their hands and shouted as they reached the ground. For an instant

Tantor, the elephant, paused with upraised trunk and tail, with great

ears up-pricked, and then he swung on along the trail at a rapid,

shuffling pace—straight toward the covered pit with its sharpened

stakes upstanding in the ground.

Behind him came the yelling warriors, urging him on in the rapid flight

which would not permit a careful examination of the ground before him.

Tantor, the elephant, who could have turned and scattered his

adversaries with a single charge, fled like a frightened deer—fled

toward a hideous, torturing death.

And behind them all came Tarzan of the Apes, racing through the jungle

forest with the speed and agility of a squirrel, for he had heard the

shouts of the warriors and had interpreted them correctly. Once he

uttered a piercing call that reverberated through the jungle; but

Tantor, in the panic of terror, either failed to hear, or hearing,

dared not pause to heed.

Now the giant pachyderm was but a few yards from the hidden death

lurking in his path, and the blacks, certain of success, were screaming

and dancing in his wake, waving their war spears and celebrating in

advance the acquisition of the splendid ivory carried by their prey and

the surfeit of elephant meat which would be theirs this night.

So intent were they upon their gratulations that they entirely failed

to note the silent passage of the man-beast above their heads, nor did

Tantor, either, see or hear him, even though Tarzan called to him to

stop.

A few more steps would precipitate Tantor upon the sharpened stakes;

Tarzan fairly flew through the trees until he had come abreast of the

fleeing animal and then had passed him. At the pit’s verge the ape-man

dropped to the ground in the center of the trail. Tantor was almost

upon him before his weak eyes permitted him to recognize his old

friend.

“Stop!” cried Tarzan, and the great beast halted to the upraised hand.

Tarzan turned and kicked aside some of the brush which hid the pit.

Instantly Tantor saw and understood.

“Fight!” growled Tarzan. “They are coming behind you.” But Tantor, the

elephant, is a huge bunch of nerves, and now he was half panic-stricken

by terror.

Before him yawned the pit, how far he did not know, but to right and

left lay the primeval jungle untouched by man. With a squeal the great

beast turned suddenly at right angles and burst his noisy way through

the solid wall of matted vegetation that would have stopped any but

him.

Tarzan, standing upon the edge of the pit, smiled as he watched

Tantor’s undignified flight. Soon the blacks would come. It were best

that Tarzan of the Apes faded from the scene. He essayed a step from

the pit’s edge, and as he threw the weight of his body upon his left

foot, the earth crumbled away. Tarzan made a single Herculean effort to

throw himself forward, but it was too late. Backward and downward he

went toward the sharpened stakes in the bottom of the pit.

When, a moment later, the blacks came they saw even from a distance

that Tantor had eluded them, for the size of the hole in the pit

covering was too small to have accommodated the huge bulk of an

elephant. At first they thought that their prey had put one great foot

through the top and then, warned, drawn back; but when they had come to

the pit’s verge and peered over, their eyes went wide in astonishment,

for, quiet and still, at the bottom lay the naked figure of a white

giant.

Some of them there had glimpsed this forest god before and they drew

back in terror, awed by the presence which they had for some time

believed to possess the miraculous powers of a demon; but others there

were who pushed forward, thinking only of the capture of an enemy, and

these leaped into the pit and lifted Tarzan out.

There was no scar upon his body. None of the sharpened stakes had

pierced him—only a swollen spot at the base of the brain indicated the

nature of his injury. In falling backward his head had struck upon

the side of one of the stakes, rendering him unconscious. The blacks

were quick to discover this, and equally quick to bind their prisoner’s

arms and legs before he should regain consciousness, for they had

learned to harbor a wholesome respect for this strange man-beast that

consorted with the hairy tree folk.

They had carried him but a short distance toward their village when the

ape-man’s eyelids quivered and raised. He looked about him wonderingly

for a moment, and then full consciousness returned and he realized the

seriousness of his predicament. Accustomed almost from birth to relying

solely upon his own resources, he did not cast about for outside aid

now, but devoted his mind to a consideration of the possibilities for

escape which lay within himself and his own powers.

He did not dare test the strength of his bonds while the blacks were

carrying him, for fear they would become apprehensive and add to them.

Presently his captors discovered that he was conscious, and as they had

little stomach for carrying a heavy man through the jungle heat, they

set him upon his feet and forced him forward among them, pricking him

now and then with their spears, yet with every manifestation of the

superstitious awe in which they held him.

When they discovered that their prodding brought no outward evidence of

suffering, their awe increased, so that they soon desisted, half

believing that this strange white giant was a supernatural being and so

was immune from pain.

As they approached their village, they shouted aloud the victorious

cries of successful warriors, so that by the time they reached the

gate, dancing and waving their spears, a great crowd of men, women, and

children were gathered there to greet them and hear the story of their

adventure.

As the eyes of the villagers fell upon the prisoner, they went wild,

and heavy jaws fell open in astonishment and incredulity. For months

they had lived in perpetual terror of a weird, white demon whom but few

had ever glimpsed and lived to describe. Warriors had disappeared from

the paths almost within sight of the village and from the midst of

their companions as mysteriously and completely as though they had been

swallowed by the earth, and later, at night, their dead bodies had

fallen, as from the heavens, into the village street.

This fearsome creature had appeared by night in the huts of the

village, killed, and disappeared, leaving behind him in the huts with

his dead, strange and terrifying evidences of an uncanny sense of

humor.

But now he was in their power! No longer could he terrorize them.

Slowly the realization of this dawned upon them. A woman, screaming,

ran forward and struck the ape-man across the face. Another and another

followed her example, until Tarzan of the Apes was surrounded by a

fighting, clawing, yelling mob of natives.

And then Mbonga, the chief, came, and laying his spear heavily across

the shoulders of his people, drove them from their prey.

“We will save him until night,” he said.

Far out in the jungle Tantor, the elephant, his first panic of fear

allayed, stood with up-pricked ears and undulating trunk. What was

passing through the convolutions of his savage brain? Could he be

searching for Tarzan? Could he recall and measure the service the

ape-man had performed for him? Of that there can be no doubt. But did

he feel gratitude? Would he have risked his own life to have saved

Tarzan could he have known of the danger which confronted his friend?

You will doubt it. Anyone at all familiar with elephants will doubt it.

Englishmen who have hunted much with elephants in India will tell you

that they never have heard of an instance in which one of these animals

has gone to the aid of a man in danger, even though the man had often

befriended it. And so it is to be doubted that Tantor would have

attempted to overcome his instinctive fear of the black men in an

effort to succor Tarzan.

The screams of the infuriated villagers came faintly to his sensitive

ears, and he wheeled, as though in terror, contemplating flight; but

something stayed him, and again he turned about, raised his trunk, and

gave voice to a shrill cry.

Then he stood listening.

In the distant village where Mbonga had restored quiet and order, the

voice of Tantor was scarcely audible to the blacks, but to the keen

ears of Tarzan of the Apes it bore its message.

His captors were leading him to a hut where he might be confined and

guarded against the coming of the nocturnal orgy that would mark his

torture-laden death. He halted as he heard the notes of Tantor’s call,

and raising his head, gave vent to a terrifying scream that sent cold

chills through the superstitious blacks and caused the warriors who

guarded him to leap back even though their prisoner’s arms were

securely bound behind him.

With raised spears they encircled him as for a moment longer he stood

listening. Faintly from the distance came another, an answering cry,

and Tarzan of the Apes, satisfied, turned and quietly pursued his way

toward the hut where he was to be imprisoned.

The afternoon wore on. From the surrounding village the ape-man heard

the bustle of preparation for the feast. Through the doorway of the hut

he saw the women laying the cooking fires and filling their earthen

caldrons with water; but above it all his ears were bent across the

jungle in eager listening for the coming of Tantor.

Even Tarzan but half believed that he would come. He knew Tantor even

better than Tantor knew himself. He knew the timid heart which lay in

the giant body. He knew the panic of terror which the scent of the

Gomangani inspired within that savage breast, and as night drew on,

hope died within his heart and in the stoic calm of the wild beast

which he was, he resigned himself to meet the fate which awaited him.

All afternoon he had been working, working, working with the bonds that

held his wrists. Very slowly they were giving. He might free his hands

before they came to lead him out to be butchered, and if he did—Tarzan

licked his lips in anticipation, and smiled a cold, grim smile. He

could imagine the feel of soft flesh beneath his fingers and the

sinking of his white teeth into the throats of his foemen. He would let

them taste his wrath before they overpowered him!

At last they came—painted, befeathered warriors—even more hideous than

nature had intended them. They came and pushed him into the open, where

his appearance was greeted by wild shouts from the assembled villagers.

To the stake they led him, and as they pushed him roughly against it

preparatory to binding him there securely for the dance of death that

would presently encircle him, Tarzan tensed his mighty thews and with a

single, powerful wrench parted the loosened thongs which had secured

his hands. Like thought, for quickness, he leaped forward among the

warriors nearest him. A blow sent one to earth, as, growling and

snarling, the beast-man leaped upon the breast of another. His fangs

were buried instantly in the jugular of his adversary and then a half

hundred black men had leaped upon him and borne him to earth.

Striking, clawing, and snapping, the ape-man fought—fought as his

foster people had taught him to fight—fought like a wild beast

cornered. His strength, his agility, his courage, and his intelligence

rendered him easily a match for half a dozen black men in a

hand-to-hand struggle, but not even Tarzan of the Apes could hope to

successfully cope with half a hundred.

Slowly they were overpowering him, though a score of them bled from

ugly wounds, and two lay very still beneath the trampling feet, and the

rolling bodies of the contestants.

Overpower him they might, but could they keep him overpowered while

they bound him? A half hour of desperate endeavor convinced them that

they could not, and so Mbonga, who, like all good rulers, had circled

in the safety of the background, called to one to work his way in and

spear the victim. Gradually, through the milling, battling men, the

warrior approached the object of his quest.

He stood with poised spear above his head waiting for the instant that

would expose a vulnerable part of the ape-man’s body and still not

endanger one of the blacks. Closer and closer he edged about, following

the movements of the twisting, scuffling combatants. The growls of the

ape-man sent cold chills up the warrior’s spine, causing him to go

carefully lest he miss at the first cast and lay himself open to an

attack from those merciless teeth and mighty hands.

At last he found an opening. Higher he raised his spear, tensing his

muscles, rolling beneath his glistening, ebon hide, and then from the

jungle just beyond the palisade came a thunderous crashing. The

spear-hand paused, the black cast a quick glance in the direction of

the disturbance, as did the others of the blacks who were not occupied

with the subjugation of the ape-man.

In the glare of the fires they saw a huge bulk topping the barrier.

They saw the palisade belly and sway inward. They saw it burst as

though built of straws, and an instant later Tantor, the elephant,

thundered down upon them.

To right and left the blacks fled, screaming in terror. Some who

hovered upon the verge of the strife with Tarzan heard and made good

their escape, but a half dozen there were so wrapt in the blood-madness

of battle that they failed to note the approach of the giant tusker.

Upon these Tantor charged, trumpeting furiously. Above them he stopped,

his sensitive trunk weaving among them, and there, at the bottom, he

found Tarzan, bloody, but still battling.

A warrior turned his eyes upward from the melee. Above him towered the

gigantic bulk of the pachyderm, the little eyes flashing with the

reflected light of the fires—wicked, frightful, terrifying. The warrior

screamed, and as he screamed, the sinuous trunk encircled him, lifted

him high above the ground, and hurled him far after the fleeing crowd.

Another and another Tantor wrenched from the body of the ape-man,

throwing them to right and to left, where they lay either moaning or

very quiet, as death came slowly or at once.

At a distance Mbonga rallied his warriors. His greedy eyes had noted

the great ivory tusks of the bull. The first panic of terror relieved,

he urged his men forward to attack with their heavy elephant spears;

but as they came, Tantor swung Tarzan to his broad head, and, wheeling,

lumbered off into the jungle through the great rent he had made in the

palisade.

Elephant hunters may be right when they aver that this animal would not

have rendered such service to a man, but to Tantor, Tarzan was not a

man—he was but a fellow jungle beast.

And so it was that Tantor, the elephant, discharged an obligation to

Tarzan of the Apes, cementing even more closely the friendship that had

existed between them since Tarzan as a little, brown boy rode upon

Tantor’s huge back through the moonlit jungle beneath the equatorial

stars.