In silence he stood watching the vessel. He saw it turn toward
the east and finally disappear around a headland on its way he knew
not whither. Then he dropped upon his haunches and buried his face
in his hands.
It was after dark that the five men returned to the camp on the
east shore. The night was hot and sultry. No slightest breeze
ruffled the foliage of the trees or rippled the mirror-like surface
of the ocean. Only a gentle swell rolled softly in upon the beach.
Never had Tarzan seen the great Atlantic so ominously at peace.
He was standing at the edge of the beach gazing out to sea
in the direction of the mainland, his mind filled with sorrow and
hopelessness, when from the jungle close behind the camp came the
uncanny wail of a panther.
There was a familiar note in the weird cry, and almost mechanically
Tarzan turned his head and answered. A moment later the tawny
figure of Sheeta slunk out into the half-light of the beach. There
was no moon, but the sky was brilliant with stars. Silently the
savage brute came to the side of the man. It had been long since
Tarzan had seen his old fighting companion, but the soft purr was
sufficient to assure him that the animal still recalled the bonds
which had united them in the past.
The ape-man let his fingers fall upon the beast's coat, and as
Sheeta pressed close against his leg he caressed and fondled the
wicked head while his eyes continued to search the blackness of
the waters.
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