trail and at last his nostrils were rewarded with the scent of
the fresh spoor of Bara, the deer. Tarzan's mouth watered and a
low growl escaped his patrician lips. Sloughed from him was the
last vestige of artificial caste--once again he was the primeval
hunter--the first man--the highest caste type of the human race.
Up wind he followed the elusive spoor with a sense of perception
so transcending that of ordinary man as to be inconceivable to
us. Through counter currents of the heavy stench of meat eaters
he traced the trail of Bara; the sweet and cloying stink of Horta,
the boar, could not drown his quarry's scent--the permeating, mellow
musk of the deer's foot.

Presently the body scent of the deer told Tarzan that his prey was
close at hand. It sent him into the trees again--into the lower
terrace where he could watch the ground below and catch with ears
and nose the first intimation of actual contact with his quarry.
Nor was it long before the ape-man came upon Bara standing alert
at the edge of a moon-bathed clearing. Noiselessly Tarzan crept
through the trees until he was directly over the deer. In the
ape-man's right hand was the long hunting knife of his father and
in his heart the blood lust of the carnivore. Just for an instant
he poised above the unsuspecting Bara and then he launched himself
downward upon the sleek back. The impact of his weight carried
the deer to its knees and before the animal could regain its feet
the knife had found its heart. As Tarzan rose upon the body of
his kill to scream forth his hideous victory cry into the face of
the moon the wind carried to his nostrils something which froze
him to statuesque immobility and silence. His savage eyes blazed
into the direction from which the wind had borne down the warning
to him and a moment later the grasses at one side of the clearing