intly to his sensitive
ears, and he wheeled, as though in terror, contemplating flight; but
something stayed him, and again he turned about, raised his trunk, and
gave voice to a shrill cry.

Then he stood listening.

In the distant village where Mbonga had restored quiet and order, the
voice of Tantor was scarcely audible to the blacks, but to the keen
ears of Tarzan of the Apes it bore its message.

His captors were leading him to a hut where he might be confined and
guarded against the coming of the nocturnal orgy that would mark his
torture-laden death. He halted as he heard the notes of Tantor's call,
and raising his head, gave vent to a terrifying scream that sent cold
chills through the superstitious blacks and caused the warriors who
guarded him to leap back even though their prisoner's arms were
securely bound behind him.

With raised spears they encircled him as for a moment longer he stood
listening. Faintly from the distance came another, an answering cry,
and Tarzan of the Apes, satisfied, turned and quietly pursued his way
toward the hut where he was to be imprisoned.

The afternoon wore on. From the surrounding village the ape-man heard
the bustle of preparation for the feast. Through the doorway of the
hut he saw the women laying the cooking fires and filling their earthen
caldrons with water; but above it all his ears were bent across the
jungle in eager listening for the coming of Tantor.

Even Tarzan but half believed that he would come. He knew Tantor even
better than Tantor knew himself. He knew the timid heart which lay in
the giant body. He knew the panic of terror which the scent of the
Gomangani inspired within that savage breast, and as night drew on,
hope died within his heart and in the stoic calm of the wild beast
which he was, he resigned himself to meet the fate which awaited him.

All afternoon he had been working, working, working with the bonds that
held his wrists. Very slowly they were giving. He might free his
hands before they came to lead him out to be butchered, and if he
did--Tarzan licked his lips in anticipation, and smiled a cold, grim
smile. He could imagine the feel of soft flesh beneath his fingers and
the sinking of his white teeth into the throats of his foemen. He
would let them taste his wrath before they overpowered him!

At last they came--painted, befeathered warriors--even more hideous
than nature had intended them. They came and pushed him into