lunge for Tarzan, but the ape-boy leaped nimbly to one
side, eluding him, and with the quickness of a cat wheeled and leaped
back again to close quarters. His hunting knife was raised above his
head as he came in, and he aimed a vicious blow at Taug's neck. The
ape wheeled to dodge the weapon so that the keen blade struck him but a
glancing blow upon the shoulder.

The spurt of red blood brought a shrill cry of delight from Teeka. Ah,
but this was something worth while! She glanced about to see if others
had witnessed this evidence of her popularity. Helen of Troy was never
one whit more proud than was Teeka at that moment.

If Teeka had not been so absorbed in her own vaingloriousness she might
have noted the rustling of leaves in the tree above her--a rustling
which was not caused by any movement of the wind, since there was no
wind. And had she looked up she might have seen a sleek body crouching
almost directly over her and wicked yellow eyes glaring hungrily down
upon her, but Teeka did not look up.

With his wound Taug had backed off growling horribly. Tarzan had
followed him, screaming insults at him, and menacing him with his
brandishing blade. Teeka moved from beneath the tree in an effort to
keep close to the duelists.

The branch above Teeka bent and swayed a trifle with the movement of
the body of the watcher stretched along it. Taug had halted now and
was preparing to make a new stand. His lips were flecked with foam,
and saliva drooled from his jowls. He stood with head lowered and arms
outstretched, preparing for a sudden charge to close quarters. Could
he but lay his mighty hands upon that soft, brown skin the battle would
be his. Taug considered Tarzan's manner of fighting unfair. He would
not close. Instead, he leaped nimbly just beyond the reach of Taug's
muscular fingers.

The ape-boy had as yet never come to a real trial of strength with a
bull ape, other than in play, and so he was not at all sure that it
would be safe to put his muscles to the test in a life and death
struggle. Not that he was afraid, for Tarzan knew nothing of fear.
The instinct of self-preservation gave him caution--that was all. He
took risks only when it seemed necessary, and then he would hesitate at
nothing.

His own method of fighting seemed best fitted to his build and to his
armament. His teeth, while strong and sharp, were, as weapons of
offense, pitifully inadequate by comparison with the might