The fellow had retreated to the end of the
bridge, where he now stood trembling and wide-eyed, facing the
beast that moved slowly toward him.
The panther crawled with belly to the planking, uttering uncanny
mouthings. Rokoff stood as though petrified, his eyes protruding
from their sockets, his mouth agape, and the cold sweat of terror
clammy upon his brow.
Below him, upon the deck, he had seen the great anthropoids, and
so had not dared to seek escape in that direction. In fact, even
now one of the brutes was leaping to seize the bridge-rail and draw
himself up to the Russian's side.
Before him was the panther, silent and crouched.
Rokoff could not move. His knees trembled. His voice broke in
inarticulate shrieks. With a last piercing wail he sank to his
knees--and then Sheeta sprang.
Full upon the man's breast the tawny body hurtled, tumbling the
Russian to his back.
As the great fangs tore at the throat and chest, Jane Clayton turned
away in horror; but not so Tarzan of the Apes. A cold smile of
satisfaction touched his lips. The scar upon his forehead that
had burned scarlet faded to the normal hue of his tanned skin and
disappeared.
Rokoff fought furiously but futilely against the growling, rending
fate that had overtaken him. For all his countless crimes he was
punished in the brief moment of the hideous death that claimed him
at the last.
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