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 AS Tarzan struck the water, his first impulse was to swim clear of the ship and possible danger from
her propellers. He knew whom to thank for his present predicament, and as he lay in the sea, just
supporting himself by a gentle movement of his hands, his chief emotion was one of chagrin that he
had been so easily bested by Rokoff.
He lay thus for some time, watching the receding and rapidly diminishing lights of the steamer
without it ever once occurring to him to call for help. He never had called for help in his life,
and so it is not strange that he did not think of it now. Always had he depended upon his own
prowess and resourcefulness, nor had there ever been since the days of Kala any to answer an appeal
for succor. When it did occur to him it was too late.
There was, thought Tarzan, a possible one chance in a hundred thousand that he might be picked up,
and an even smaller chance that he would reach land, so he determined that to combine what slight
chances there were, he would swim slowly in the direction of the coast—the ship might have
been closer in than he had known.
His strokes were long and easy—it would be many hours before those giant muscles would
commence to feel fatigue. As he swam, guided toward the east by the stars, he noticed that he felt
the weight of his shoes,
 and so he removed them. His trousers went next, and he would have removed his coat at the same time
but for the precious papers in its pocket. To assure himself that he still had them he slipped his
hand in to feel, but to his consternation they were gone.
Now he knew that something more than revenge had prompted Rokoff to pitch him overboard—the
Russian had managed to obtain possession of the papers Tarzan had wrested from him at Bou Saada. The
ape-man swore softly, and let his coat and shirt sink into the Atlantic. Before many hours he had
divested himself of his remaining garments, and was swimming easily and unencumbered toward the
The first faint evidence of dawn was paling the stars ahead of him when the dim outlines of a
low-lying black mass loomed up directly in his track. A few strong strokes brought him to its
side—it was the bottom of a wave-washed derelict. Tarzan clambered upon it—he would rest
there until daylight at least. He had no intention to remain there inactive—a prey to hunger
and thirst. If he must die he preferred dying in action while making some semblance of an attempt to
The sea was quiet, so that the wreck had only a gently undulating motion, that was nothing to the
swimmer who had had no sleep for twenty hours. Tarzan of the Apes curled up upon the slimy timbers,
and was soon asleep.
The heat of the sun awoke him early in the forenoon. His first conscious sensation was of thirst,
which grew almost to the proportions of suffering with full returning consciousness; but a moment
later it was forgotten in the joy of two almost simultaneous discoveries. The first was a mass of
wreckage floating beside the derelict
 in the midst of which, bottom up, rose and fell an overturned lifeboat; the other was the faint,
dim line of a far-distant shore showing on the horizon in the east.
Tarzan dove into the water, and swam around the wreck to the lifeboat. The cool ocean refreshed him
almost as much as would a draft of water, so that it was with renewed vigor that he brought the
smaller boat alongside the derelict, and, after many herculean efforts, succeeded in dragging it
onto the slimy ship's bottom. There he righted and examined it—the boat was quite sound, and a
moment later floated upright alongside the wreck. Then Tarzan selected several pieces of wreckage
that might answer him as paddles, and presently was making good headway toward the far-off shore.
It was late in the afternoon by the time he came close enough to distinguish objects on land, or to
make out the contour of the shore line. Before him lay what appeared to be the entrance to a little,
landlocked harbor. The wooded point to the north was strangely familiar. Could it be possible that
fate had thrown him up at the very threshold of his own beloved jungle! But as the bow of his boat
entered the mouth of the harbor the last shred of doubt was cleared away, for there before him upon
the farther shore, under the shadows of his primeval forest, stood his own cabin—built before
his birth by the hand of his long-dead father, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke.
With long sweeps of his giant muscles Tarzan sent the little craft speeding toward the beach. Its
prow had scarcely touched when the ape-man leaped to shore—his heart beat fast in joy and
exultation as each long-familiar object came beneath his roving eyes—the cabin, the beach, the
little brook, the dense jungle, the black,
 impenetrable forest. The myriad birds in their brilliant plumage—the gorgeous tropical blooms
upon the festooned creepers falling in great loops from the giant trees.
Tarzan of the Apes had come into his own again, and that all the world might know it he threw back
his young head, and gave voice to the fierce, wild challenge of his tribe. For a moment silence
reigned upon the jungle, and then, low and weird, came an answering challenge—it was the deep
roar of Numa, the lion; and from a great distance, faintly, the fearsome answering bellow of a bull
Tarzan went to the brook first, and slaked his thirst. Then he approached his cabin. The door was
still closed and latched as he and D'Arnot had left it. He raised the latch and entered. Nothing had
been disturbed; there were the table, the bed, and the little crib built by his father—the
shelves and cupboards just as they had stood for ever twenty-three years—just as he had left
them nearly two years before.
His eyes satisfied, Tarzan's stomach began to call aloud for attention—the pangs of hunger
suggested a search for food. There was nothing in the cabin, nor had he any weapons; but upon a wall
hung one of his old grass ropes. It had been many times broken and spliced, so that he had discarded
it for a better one long before. Tarzan wished that he had a knife. Well, unless he was mistaken he
should have that and a spear and bows and arrows before another sun had set—the rope would
take care of that, and in the meantime it must be made to procure food for him. He coiled it
carefully, and, throwing it about his shoulder, went out, closing the door behind him.
 Close to the cabin the jungle commenced, and into it Tarzan of the Apes plunged, wary and
noiseless—once more a savage beast hunting its food. For a time he kept to the ground, but
finally, discovering no spoor indicative of nearby meat, he took to the trees. With the first dizzy
swing from tree to tree all the old joy of living swept over him. Vain regrets and dull heartache
were forgotten. Now was he living. Now, indeed, was the true happiness of perfect freedom his. Who
would go back to the stifling, wicked cities of civilized man when the mighty reaches of the great
jungle offered peace and liberty? Not he.
While it was yet light Tarzan came to a drinking place by the side of a jungle river. There was a
ford there, and for countless ages the beasts of the forest had come down to drink at this spot.
Here of a night might always be found either Sabor or Numa crouching in the dense foliage of the
surrounding jungle awaiting an antelope or a water buck for their meal. Here came Horta, the boar,
to water, and here came Tarzan of the Apes to make a kill, for he was very empty.
On a low branch he squatted above the trail. For an hour he waited. It was growing dark. A little to
one side of the ford in the densest thicket he heard the faint sound of padded feet, and the
brushing of a huge body against tall grasses and tangled creepers. None other than Tarzan might have
heard it, but the ape-man heard and translated—it was Numa, the lion, on the same errand as
himself. Tarzan smiled.
Presently he heard an animal approaching warily along the trail toward the drinking place. A moment
more and it came in view—it was Horta, the boar. Here was delicious meat—and Tarzan's
mouth watered. The
 grasses where Numa lay were very still now—ominously still. Horta passed beneath
Tarzan—a few more steps and he would be within the radius of Numa's spring. Tarzan could
imagine how old Numa's eyes were shining—how he was already sucking in his breath for the
awful roar which would freeze his prey for the brief instant between the moment of the spring and
the sinking of terrible fangs into splintering bones.
But as Numa gathered himself, a slender rope flew through the air from the low branches of a near-by
tree. A noose settled about Horta's neck. There was a frightened grunt, a squeal, and then Numa saw
his quarry dragged backward up the trail, and, as he sprang, Horta, the boar, soared upward beyond
his clutches into the tree above, and a mocking face looked down and laughed into his own.
Then indeed did Numa roar. Angry, threatening, hungry, he paced back and forth beneath the taunting
ape-man. Now he stopped, and, rising on his hind legs against the stem of the tree that held his
enemy, sharpened his huge claws upon the bark, tearing out great pieces that laid bare the white
And in the meantime Tarzan had dragged the struggling Horta to the limb beside him. Sinewy fingers
completed the work the choking noose had commenced. The ape-man had no knife, but nature had
equipped him with the means of tearing his food from the quivering flank of his prey, and gleaming
teeth sank into the succulent flesh while the raging lion looked on from below as another enjoyed
the dinner that he had thought already his.
It was quite dark by the time Tarzan had gorged himself. Ah, but it had been delicious! Never had he
 accustomed himself to the ruined flesh that civilized men had served him, and in the bottom of his
savage heart there had constantly been the craving for the warm meat of the fresh kill, and the
rich, red blood.
He wiped his bloody hands upon a bunch of leaves, slung the remains of his kill across his shoulder,
and swung off through the middle terrace of the forest toward his cabin, and at the same instant
Jane Porter and William Cecil Clayton arose from a sumptuous dinner upon the Lady Alice,
thousands of miles to the east, in the Indian Ocean.
Beneath Tarzan walked Numa, the lion, and when the ape-man deigned to glance downward he caught
occasional glimpses of the baleful green eyes following through the darkness. Numa did not roar
now—instead, he moved stealthily, like the shadow of a great cat; but yet he took no step that
did not reach the sensitive ears of the ape-man.
Tarzan wondered if he would stalk him to his cabin door. He hoped not, for that would mean a night's
sleep curled in the crotch of a tree, and he much preferred the bed of grasses within his own abode.
But he knew just the tree and the most comfortable crotch, if necessity demanded that he sleep out.
A hundred times in the past some great jungle cat had followed him home, and compelled him to seek
shelter in this same tree, until another mood or the rising sun had sent his enemy away.
But presently Numa gave up the chase and, with a series of blood-curdling moans and roars, turned
angrily back in search of another and an easier dinner. So Tarzan came to his cabin unattended, and
a few moments later was curled up in the mildewed remnants of what had once been a bed of grasses.
Thus easily did
Mon-  sieur Jean C. Tarzan slough the thin skin of his artificial civilization, and sink happy and
contented into the deep sleep of the wild beast that has fed to repletion. Yet a woman's "yes" would
have bound him to that other life forever, and made the thought of this savage existence repulsive.
Tarzan slept late into the following forenoon, for he had been very tired from the labors and
exertion of the long night and day upon the ocean, and the jungle jaunt that had brought into play
muscles that he had scarce used for nearly two years. When he awoke he ran to the brook first to
drink. Then he took a plunge into the sea, swimming about for a quarter of an hour. Afterward he
returned to his cabin, and breakfasted off the flesh of Horta. This done, he buried the balance of
the carcass in the soft earth outside the cabin, for his evening meal.
Once more he took his rope and vanished into the jungle. This time he hunted nobler
quarry—man; although had you asked him his own opinion he could have named a dozen other
denizens of the jungle which he considered far the superiors in nobility of the men he hunted. Today
Tarzan was in quest of weapons. He wondered if the women and children had remained in Mbonga's
village after the punitive expedition from the French cruiser had massacred all the warriors in
revenge for D'Arnot's supposed death. He hoped that he should find warriors there, for he knew not
how long a quest he should have to make were the village deserted.
The ape-man traveled swiftly through the forest, and about noon came to the site of the village, but
to his disappointment found that the jungle had overgrown the plantain fields and that the thatched
huts had fallen in
 decay. There was no sign of man. He clambered about among the ruins for half an hour, hoping that he
might discover some forgotten weapon, but his search was without fruit, and so he took up his quest
once more, following up the stream, which flowed from a southeasterly direction. He knew that near
fresh water he would be most likely to find another settlement.
As he traveled he hunted as he had hunted with his ape people in the past, as Kala had taught him to
hunt, turning over rotted logs to find some toothsome vermin, running high into the trees to rob a
bird's nest, or pouncing upon a tiny rodent with the quickness of a cat. There were other things
that he ate, too, but the less detailed the account of an ape's diet, the better—and Tarzan
was again an ape, the same fierce, brutal anthropoid that Kala had taught him to be, and that he had
been for the first twenty years of his life.
Occasionally he smiled as he recalled some friend who might even at the moment be sitting placid and
immaculate within the precincts of his select Parisian club—just as Tarzan had sat but a few
months before; and then he would stop, as though turned suddenly to stone as the gentle breeze
carried to his trained nostrils the scent of some new prey or a formidable enemy.
That night he slept far inland from his cabin, securely wedged into the crotch of a giant tree,
swaying a hundred feet above the ground. He had eaten heartily again—this time from the flesh
of Bara, the deer, who had fallen prey to his quick noose.
Early the next morning he resumed his journey, always following the course of the stream. For three
days he continued his quest, until he had come to a part of the jungle in which he never before had
 upon the higher ground the forest was much thinner, and in the far distance through the trees he
could see ranges of mighty mountains, with wide plains in the foreground. Here, in the open spaces,
were new game—countless antelope and vast herds of zebra. Tarzan was entranced—he would
make a long visit to this new world.
On the morning of the fourth day his nostrils were suddenly surprised by a faint new scent. It was
the scent of man, but yet a long way off. The ape-man thrilled with pleasure. Every sense was on the
alert as with crafty stealth he moved quickly through the trees, up-wind, in the direction of his
prey. Presently he came upon it—a lone warrior treading softly through the jungle.
Tarzan followed close above his quarry, waiting for a clearer space in which to hurl his rope. As he
stalked the unconscious man, new thoughts presented themselves to the ape-man—thoughts born of
the refining influences of civilization, and of its cruelties. It came to him that seldom if ever
did civilized man kill a fellow being without some pretext, however slight. It was true that Tarzan
wished this man's weapons and ornaments, but was it necessary to take his life to obtain them?
The longer he thought about it, the more repugnant became the thought of taking human life
needlessly; and thus it happened that while he was trying to decide just what to do, they had come
to a little clearing, at the far side of which lay a palisaded village of beehive huts.
As the warrior emerged from the forest, Tarzan caught a fleeting glimpse of a tawny hide worming its
way through the matted jungle grasses in his wake—it was Numa, the lion. He, too, was stalking
the black man. With the instant that Tarzan realized the native's danger
 his attitude toward his erstwhile prey altered completely—now he was a fellow man threatened
by a common enemy.
Numa was about to charge—there was little time in which to compare various methods or weigh
the probable results of any. And then a number of things happened, almost simultaneously—the
lion sprang from his ambush toward the retreating black—Tarzan cried out in warning—and
the black turned just in time to see Numa halted in mid-flight by a slender strand of grass rope,
the noosed end of which had fallen cleanly about his neck.
The ape-man had acted so quickly that he had been unable to prepare himself to withstand the strain
and shock of Numa's great weight upon the rope, and so it was that though the rope stopped the beast
before his mighty talons could fasten themselves in the flesh of the black, the strain overbalanced
Tarzan, who came tumbling to the ground not six paces from the infuriated animal. Like lightning
Numa turned upon this new enemy, and, defenseless as he was, Tarzan of the Apes was nearer to death
that instant than he ever before had been. It was the black who saved him. The warrior realized in
an instant that he owed his life to this strange white man, and he also saw that only a miracle
could save his preserver from those fierce yellow fangs that had been so near to his own flesh.
With the quickness of thought his spear arm flew back, and then shot forward with all the force of
the sinewy muscles that rolled beneath the shimmering ebon hide. True to its mark the iron-shod
weapon flew, transfixing Numa's sleek carcass from the right groin to beneath the left shoulder.
With a hideous scream of rage and pain
 the brute turned again upon the black. A dozen paces he had gone when Tarzan's rope brought him to
a stand once more—then he wheeled again upon the ape-man, only to feel the painful prick of a
barbed arrow as it sank half its length in his quivering flesh. Again he stopped, and by this time
Tarzan had run twice around the stem of a great tree with his rope, and made the end fast.
The black saw the trick, and grinned, but Tarzan knew that Numa must be quickly finished before
those mighty teeth had found and parted the slender cord that held him. It was a matter of but an
instant to reach the black's side and drag his long knife from its scabbard. Then he signed the
warrior to continue to shoot arrows into the great beast while he attempted to close in upon him
with the knife; so as one tantalized upon one side, the other sneaked cautiously in upon the other.
Numa was furious. He raised his voice in a perfect frenzy of shrieks, growls, and hideous moans, the
while he reared upon his hind legs in futile attempt to reach first one and then the other of his
But at length the agile ape-man saw his chance, and rushed in upon the beast's left side behind the
mighty shoulder. A giant arm encircled the tawny throat, and a long blade sank once, true as a die,
into the fierce heart. Then Tarzan arose, and the black man and the white looked into each other's
eyes across the body of their kill—and the black made the sign of peace and friendship, and
Tarzan of the Apes answered in kind.
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