He could hear voices from the nearer caves
and there floated to his nostrils the odor of cooking food. He looked
down and experienced a sensation of relief. The cave in which he
had been held was in the lowest tier--scarce thirty feet from the
base of the cliff. He was about to chance an immediate descent when
there occurred to him a thought that brought a grin to his savage
lips--a thought that was born of the name the Waz-don had given
him Tarzan-jad-guru--Tarzan the Terrible--and a recollection of
the days when he had delighted in baiting the blacks of the distant
jungle of his birth. He turned back into the cave where lay the
dead body of In-tan. With his knife he severed the warrior's head
and carrying it to the outer edge of the recess tossed it to the
ground below, then he dropped swiftly and silently down the ladder
of pegs in a way that would have surprised the Kor-ul-lul who had
been so sure that he could not climb.
At the bottom he picked up the head of In-tan and disappeared among
the shadows of the trees carrying the grisly trophy by its shock
of shaggy hair. Horrible? But you are judging a wild beast by the
standards of civilization. You may teach a lion tricks, but he
is still a lion. Tarzan looked well in a Tuxedo, but he was still
a Tarmangani and beneath his pleated shirt beat a wild and savage
heart.
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