revealing the grim tableau of primitive passion upon the swaying
limb.

Tarzan backed away, drawing Sheeta farther from the stem of the
tree and out upon the tapering branch, where his footing became
ever more precarious. The cat, infuriated by the pain of spear
wounds, was overstepping the bounds of caution. Already he had
reached a point where he could do little more than maintain a secure
footing, and it was this moment that Tarzan chose to charge. With
a roar that mingled with the booming thunder from above he leaped
toward the panther, who could only claw futilely with one huge paw
while he clung to the branch with the other; but the ape-man did
not come within that parabola of destruction. Instead he leaped
above menacing claws and snapping fangs, turning in mid-air and
alighting upon Sheeta's back, and at the instant of impact his knife
struck deep into the tawny side. Then Sheeta, impelled by pain and
hate and rage and the first law of Nature, went mad. Screaming
and clawing he attempted to turn upon the ape-thing clinging to
his back. For an instant he toppled upon the now wildly gyrating
limb, clutched frantically to save himself, and then plunged downward
into the darkness with Tarzan still clinging to him. Crashing
through splintering branches the two fell. Not for an instant did
the ape-man consider relinquishing his death-hold upon his adversary.
He had entered the lists in mortal combat and true to the primitive
instincts of the wild--the unwritten law of the jungle--one or both
must die before the battle ended.

Sheeta, catlike, alighted upon four out-sprawled feet, the weight
of the ape-man crushing him to earth, the long knife again imbedded
in his side. Once the panther struggled to rise; but only to sink