Sheeta's cruel fangs and tearing talons ripped and tore at the black
hides. Akut's mighty yellow tusks found the jugular of more than
one sleek-skinned savage, and Tarzan of the Apes was here and there
and everywhere, urging on his fierce allies and taking a heavy toll
with his long, slim knife.
In a moment the blacks had scattered for their lives, but of the
score that had crept down the grassy sides of the promontory only
a single warrior managed to escape the horde that had overwhelmed
his people.
This one was Mugambi, chief of the Wagambi of Ugambi, and as he
disappeared in the tangled luxuriousness of the rank growth upon the
ridge's summit only the keen eyes of the ape-man saw the direction
of his flight.
Leaving his pack to eat their fill upon the flesh of their
victims--flesh that he could not touch--Tarzan of the Apes pursued
the single survivor of the bloody fray. Just beyond the ridge he
came within sight of the fleeing black, making with headlong leaps
for a long war-canoe that was drawn well up upon the beach above
the high tide surf.
Noiseless as the fellow's shadow, the ape-man raced after the
terror-stricken black. In the white man's mind was a new plan,
awakened by sight of the war-canoe. If these men had come to his
island from another, or from the mainland, why not utilize their
craft to make his way to the country from which they had come?
Evidently it was an inhabited country, and no doubt had occasional
intercourse with the mainland, if it were not itself upon the
continent of Africa.
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