Since the
loss of his mate, a great longing had possessed him to return to
the haunts of his youth--to the untracked jungle wilderness where
he had lived the life he loved best long before man had invaded
the precincts of his wild stamping grounds. There he hoped in a
renewal of the old life under the old conditions to win surcease
from sorrow and perhaps some measure of forgetfulness.
But the little cabin and the land-locked harbor were many long,
weary marches away, and he was handicapped by the duty which he
felt he owed to the two figures walking in the clearing before him.
One was a young man in a worn and ragged uniform of the British Royal
Air Forces, the other, a young woman in the even more disreputable
remnants of what once had been trim riding togs.
A freak of fate had thrown these three radically different types
together. One was a savage, almost naked beast-man, one an English
army officer, and the woman, she whom the ape-man knew and hated
as a German spy.
How he was to get rid of them Tarzan could not imagine unless
he accompanied them upon the weary march back to the east coast,
a march that would necessitate his once more retracing the long,
weary way he already had covered towards his goal, yet what else
could be done? These two had neither the strength, endurance, nor
jungle-craft to accompany him through the unknown country to the
west, nor did he wish them with him.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219