Now he could see the hills again and they were close and, though
there was no sun, the world looked bright and cheerful, for Tarzan
knew that he was saved. The bird that would have devoured him, and
the providential rain, had saved him at the very moment that death
seemed inevitable.
Again partaking of a few mouthfuls of the unsavory flesh of Ska,
the vulture, the ape-man arose with something of his old force
and set out with steady gait toward the hills of promise rising
alluringly ahead. Darkness fell before he reached them; but he
kept on until he felt the steeply rising ground that proclaimed
his arrival at the base of the hills proper, and then he lay down
and waited until morning should reveal the easiest passage to the
land beyond. The rain had ceased, but the sky still was overcast
so that even his keen eyes could not penetrate the darkness farther
than a few feet. And there he slept, after eating again of what
remained of Ska, until the morning sun awakened him with a new
sense of strength and well-being.
And so at last he came through the hills out of the valley of death
into a land of park-like beauty, rich in game. Below him lay a deep
valley through the center of which dense jungle vegetation marked
the course of a river beyond which a primeval forest extended
for miles to terminate at last at the foot of lofty, snow-capped
mountains.
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