It moved toward
the foot of the cliff, taking form and shape in the moonlight.
It moved like the creature of a bad dream--slowly, sluggishly. It
might have been a huge sloth--it might have been a man, with so
grotesque a brush does the moon paint--master cubist.
Slowly it moved up the face of the cliff--like a great grubworm
it moved, but now the moon-brush touched it again and it had hands
and feet and with them it clung to the stone pegs and raised itself
laboriously aloft toward the cave where Pan-at-lee slept. From the
lower reaches of the gorge came again the sound of bellowing, and
it was answered from above the village.
Tarzan of the Apes opened his eyes. He was conscious of a pain in
his head, and at first that was about all. A moment later grotesque
shadows, rising and falling, focused his arousing perceptions.
Presently he saw that he was in a cave. A dozen Waz-don warriors
squatted about, talking. A rude stone cresset containing burning oil
lighted the interior and as the flame rose and fell the exaggerated
shadows of the warriors danced upon the walls behind them.
"We brought him to you alive, Gund," he heard one of them saying,
"because never before was Ho-don like him seen. He has no tail--he
was born without one, for there is no scar to mark where a tail had
been cut off.
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