When they reached the
opposite side of the gorge the gryf was with them.
"Back again," said Tarzan, and, turning, the two retraced their
high-flung way through the upper terraces of the ancient forest
of Kor-ul-gryf. But the result was the same--no, not quite; it was
worse, for another gryf had joined the first and now two waited
beneath the tree in which they stopped.
The cliff looming high above them with its innumerable cave mouths
seemed to beckon and to taunt them. It was so near, yet eternity
yawned between. The body of the Tor-o-don lay at the cliff's foot
where it had fallen. It was in plain view of the two in the tree.
One of the gryfs walked over and sniffed about it, but did not
offer to devour it. Tarzan had examined it casually as he had passed
earlier in the morning. He guessed that it represented either a
very high order of ape or a very low order of man--something akin
to the Java man, perhaps; a truer example of the pithecanthropi than
either the Ho-don or the Waz-don; possibly the precursor of them
both. As his eyes wandered idly over the scene below his active
brain was working out the details of the plan that he had made
to permit Pan-at-lee's escape from the gorge. His thoughts were
interrupted by a strange cry from above them in the gorge.
"Whee-oo! Whee-oo!" it sounded, coming closer.
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