The result was that Tarzan, always swift and
always keen for battle, was soon pursuing the enemy far in the lead
of the others--a lack of prudence which was to prove his undoing.
The warriors of Kor-ul-lul, doubtless as valorous as their foemen,
retreated only to a more strategic position in the brush, nor were
they long in guessing that the number of their pursuers was fewer
than their own. They made a stand then where the brush was densest--an
ambush it was, and into this ran Tarzan of the Apes. They tricked
him neatly. Yes, sad as is the narration of it, they tricked the
wily jungle lord. But then they were fighting on their own ground,
every foot of which they knew as you know your front parlor, and
they were following their own tactics, of which Tarzan knew nothing.
A single black warrior appeared to Tarzan a laggard in the rear of
the retreating enemy and thus retreating he lured Tarzan on. At
last he turned at bay confronting the ape-man with bludgeon and
drawn knife and as Tarzan charged him a score of burly Waz-don
leaped from the surrounding brush. Instantly, but too late, the giant
Tarmangani realized his peril. There flashed before him a vision
of his lost mate and a great and sickening regret surged through
him with the realization that if she still lived she might no longer
hope, for though she might never know of the passing of her lord
the fact of it must inevitably seal her doom.
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