Tarzan had followed him, screaming insults at him,
and menacing him with his brandishing blade. Teeka moved
from beneath the tree in an effort to keep close to
the duelists.

The branch above Teeka bent and swayed a trifle with the
movement of the body of the watcher stretched along it.
Taug had halted now and was preparing to make a new stand.
His lips were flecked with foam, and saliva drooled from
his jowls. He stood with head lowered and arms outstretched,
preparing for a sudden charge to close quarters.
Could he but lay his mighty hands upon that soft,
brown skin the battle would be his. Taug considered
Tarzan's manner of fighting unfair. He would not close.
Instead, he leaped nimbly just beyond the reach of Taug's
muscular fingers.

The ape-boy had as yet never come to a real trial
of strength with a bull ape, other than in play,
and so he was not at all sure that it would be safe to put
his muscles to the test in a life and death struggle.
Not that he was afraid, for Tarzan knew nothing of fear.
The instinct of self-preservation gave him caution--that
was all. He took risks only when it seemed necessary,
and then he would hesitate at nothing.

His own method of fighting seemed best fitted to his build
and to his armament. His teeth, while strong and sharp, were,
as weapons of offense, pitifully inadequate by comparison
with the mighty fighting fangs of the anthropoids.