The awful silence of his captor wrought upon the
German's nerves. If he would only speak! Again and again Schneider
tried to force or coax a word from him; but always the result was
the same--continued silence and a vicious and painful prod from the
spear point. Schneider was bleeding and sore. He was so exhausted
that he staggered at every step, and often he fell only to be
prodded to his feet again by that terrifying and remorseless spear.
It was not until morning that Tarzan reached a decision and it came
to him then like an inspiration from above. A slow smile touched
his lips and he immediately sought a place to lie up and rest--he
wished his prisoner to be fit now for what lay in store for him.
Ahead was a stream which Tarzan had crossed the day before. He knew
the ford for a drinking place and a likely spot to make an easy
kill. Cautioning the German to utter silence with a gesture the
two approached the stream quietly. Down the game trail Tarzan saw
some deer about to leave the water. He shoved Schneider into the
brush at one side and, squatting next him, waited. The German
watched the silent giant with puzzled, frightened eyes. In the new
dawn he, for the first time, was able to obtain a good look at his
captor, and, if he had been puzzled and frightened before, those
sensations were nothing to what he experienced now.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59