II. — 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 re-covered 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 dreadnought 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, judgment 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 was 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
the 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 wrapped 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.
