As they watched him they saw him swing into a near-by
tree and disappear from sight. Then they forgot him,
even Teeka.

Mbonga's black warriors, sweating beneath their strenuous task,
and resting often, made slow progress toward their village.
Always the savage beast in the primitive cage growled
and roared when they moved him. He beat upon the bars
and slavered at the mouth. His noise was hideous.

They had almost completed their journey and were making
their final rest before forging ahead to gain the clearing
in which lay their village. A few more minutes would
have taken them out of the forest, and then, doubtless,
the thing would not have happened which did happen.

A silent figure moved through the trees above them.
Keen eyes inspected the cage and counted the number
of warriors. An alert and daring brain figured upon
the chances of success when a certain plan should be put
to the test.

Tarzan watched the blacks lolling in the shade.
They were exhausted. Already several of them slept.
He crept closer, pausing just above them. Not a leaf rustled
before his stealthy advance. He waited in the infinite
patience of the beast of prey. Presently but two of the
warriors remained awake, and one of these was dozing.