Jad-guru-don!"
repeated the latter, smiling--"The terrible man! Tarzan the Terrible!
They may kill you, but they will never forget you."
"They shall not ki--What have we here?" Tarzan's statement as to
what "they" should not do was interrupted by a sudden ejaculation
as two figures, locked in deathlike embrace, stumbled through the
doorway of the cave to the outer porch. One was Om-at, the other a
creature of his own kind but with a rough coat, the hairs of which
seemed to grow straight outward from the skin, stiffly, unlike
Om-at's sleek covering. The two were quite evidently well matched
and equally evident was the fact that each was bent upon murder.
They fought almost in silence except for an occasional low growl
as one or the other acknowledged thus some new hurt.
Tarzan, following a natural impulse to aid his ally, leaped forward
to enter the dispute only to be checked by a grunted admonition
from Om-at. "Back!" he said. "This fight is mine, alone."
The ape-man understood and stepped aside.
"It is a gund-bar," explained Ta-den, "a chief-battle. This fellow
must be Es-sat, the chief. If Om-at kills him without assistance
Om-at may become chief."
Tarzan smiled. It was the law of his own jungle--the law of the
tribe of Kerchak, the bull ape--the ancient law of primitive man
that needed but the refining influences of civilization to introduce
the hired dagger and the poison cup.
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