an he ever had seen Histah before;
and once beside a reedy pool he caught a scent that could have
belonged to none other than Gimla the crocodile, but upon none of
these did the Tarmangani care to feed.
And so, as he craved meat, he turned his attention to the birds
above him. His assailants of the night before had not disarmed
him. Either in the darkness and the rush of the charging lions the
human foe had overlooked him or else they had considered him dead;
but whatever the reason he still retained his weapons--his spear
and his long knife, his bow and arrows, and his grass rope.
Fitting a shaft to his bow Tarzan awaited an opportunity to bring
down one of the larger birds, and when the opportunity finally
presented itself he drove the arrow straight to its mark. As the
gaily plumaged creature fluttered to earth its companions and the
little monkeys set up a most terrific chorus of wails and screaming
protests. The whole forest became suddenly a babel of hoarse screams
and shrill shrieks.
Tarzan would not have been surprised had one or two birds in the
immediate vicinity given voice to terror as they fled, but that the
whole life of the jungle should set up so weird a protest filled
him with disgust. It was an angry face that he turned up toward
the monkeys and the birds as there suddenly stirred within him a
savage inclination to voice his displeasure and his answer to what
he considered their challenge. And so it was that there broke upon
this jungle for the first time Tarzan's hideous scream of victory
and challenge.
The effect upon the creatures above him was instantaneous. Where
before the air had trembled to the din of their voices, now utter
silence reigned and a moment later the ape-man was alone with his
puny kill.
The silence following so closely the previous tumult carried
a sinister impression to the ape-man, which still further aroused
his anger. Picking the bird from where it had fallen he withdrew
his arrow from the body and returned it to his quiver. Then with
his knife he quickly and deftly removed the skin and feathers
together. He ate angrily, growling as though actually menaced by
a near-by foe, and perhaps, too, his growls were partially induced
by the fact that he did not care for the flesh of birds. Better
this, however, than nothing and from what his senses had told him
there was no flesh in the vicinity such as he was accustomed to
and cared most for. How he would have enjoyed
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