Moved by these vague yet all-powerful urgings the ape-man lay awake
one night in the little thorn boma that protected, in a way, his
party from the depredations of the great carnivora of the jungle.
A single warrior stood sleepy guard beside the fire that yellow
eyes out of the darkness beyond the camp made imperative. The moans
and the coughing of the big cats mingled with the myriad noises of
the lesser denizens of the jungle to fan the savage flame in the
breast of this savage English lord. He tossed upon his bed of
grasses, sleepless, for an hour and then he rose, noiseless as a
wraith, and while the Waziri's back was turned, vaulted the boma
wall in the face of the flaming eyes, swung silently into a great
tree and was gone.

For a time in sheer exuberance of animal spirit he raced swiftly
through the middle terrace, swinging perilously across wide spans
from one jungle giant to the next, and then he clambered upward
to the swaying, lesser boughs of the upper terrace where the moon
shone full upon him and the air was stirred by little breezes and
death lurked ready in each frail branch. Here he paused and raised
his face to Goro, the moon. With uplifted arm he stood, the cry of
the bull ape quivering upon his lips, yet he remained silent lest
he arouse his faithful Waziri who were all too familiar with the
hideous challenge of their master.

And then he went on more slowly and with greater stealth and caution,
for now Tarzan of the Apes was seeking a kill. Down to the ground
he came in the utter blackness of the close-set boles and the
overhanging verdure of the jungle. He stooped from time to time
and put his nose close to earth. He sought and found a wide game