ny
bull who might care to question Korak's right to the kingship. The
apes jabbered and chattered and growled among themselves for a time.
At last a young bull came slowly forward rocking upon his short legs,
bristling, growling, terrible.

The beast was enormous, and in the full prime of his strength. He
belonged to that almost extinct species for which white men have long
sought upon the information of the natives of the more inaccessible
jungles. Even the natives seldom see these great, hairy, primordial
men.

Korak advanced to meet the monster. He, too, was growling. In his
mind a plan was revolving. To close with this powerful, untired brute
after having just passed through a terrific battle with another of his
kind would have been to tempt defeat. He must find an easier way to
victory. Crouching, he prepared to meet the charge which he knew would
soon come, nor did he have long to wait. His antagonist paused only
for sufficient time to permit him to recount for the edification of the
audience and the confounding of Korak a brief resume of his former
victories, of his prowess, and of what he was about to do to this puny
Tarmangani. Then he charged.

With clutching fingers and wide opened jaws he came down upon the
waiting Korak with the speed of an express train. Korak did not move
until the great arms swung to embrace him, then he dropped low beneath
them, swung a terrific right to the side of the beast's jaw as he
side-stepped his rushing body, and swinging quickly about stood ready
over the fallen ape where he sprawled upon the ground.

It was a surprised anthropoid that attempted to scramble to its feet.
Froth flecked its hideous lips. Red were the little eyes. Blood
curdling roars tumbled from the deep chest. But it did not reach its
feet. The Killer stood waiting above it, and the moment that the hairy
chin came upon the proper level another blow that would have felled an
ox sent the ape over backward.

Again and again the beast struggled to arise, but each time the mighty
Tarmangani stood waiting with ready fist and pile driver blow to bowl
him over. Weaker and weaker became the efforts of the bull. Blood
smeared his face and breast. A red stream trickled from nose and
mouth. The crowd that had cheered him on at first with savage yells,
now jeered him--their approbation was for the Tarmangani.

"Kagoda?" inquired Korak, as he sent the bull down once more.

Again the stubborn bull