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 wood beneath.

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 quite 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