d leaped for his throat.

Easily Tarzan eluded the charge and quickly Taug's anger vanished,
though it was not replaced with playfulness; yet the ape-man realized
that Taug was not amused nor was he amusing. The big bull ape seemed
to have lost whatever sense of humor he once may have possessed. With
a grunt of disappointment, young Lord Greystoke turned to other fields
of endeavor. A strand of black hair fell across one eye. He brushed
it aside with the palm of a hand and a toss of his head. It suggested
something to do, so he sought his quiver which lay cached in the hollow
bole of a lightning-riven tree. Removing the arrows he turned the
quiver upside down, emptying upon the ground the contents of its
bottom--his few treasures. Among them was a flat bit of stone and a
shell which he had picked up from the beach near his father's cabin.

With great care he rubbed the edge of the shell back and forth upon the
flat stone until the soft edge was quite fine and sharp. He worked
much as a barber does who hones a razor, and with every evidence of
similar practice; but his proficiency was the result of years of
painstaking effort. Unaided he had worked out a method of his own for
putting an edge upon the shell--he even tested it with the ball of his
thumb--and when it met with his approval he grasped a wisp of hair
which fell across his eyes, grasped it between the thumb and first
finger of his left hand and sawed upon it with the sharpened shell
until it was severed. All around his head he went until his black
shock was rudely bobbed with a ragged bang in front. For the
appearance of it he cared nothing; but in the matter of safety and
comfort it meant everything. A lock of hair falling in one's eyes at
the wrong moment might mean all the difference between life and death,
while straggly strands, hanging down one's back were most
uncomfortable, especially when wet with dew or rain or perspiration.

As Tarzan labored at his tonsorial task, his active mind was busy with
many things. He recalled his recent battle with Bolgani, the gorilla,
the wounds of which were but just healed. He pondered the strange
sleep adventures of his first dreams, and he smiled at the painful
outcome of his last practical joke upon the tribe, when, dressed in the
hide of Numa, the lion, he had come roaring upon them, only to be
leaped upon and almost killed by the great bulls whom he had taught how
to defend themselves from an attack