The gryfs below raised their heads and looked in the direction of
the interruption. One of them made a low, rumbling sound in its
throat. It was not a bellow and it did not indicate anger. Immediately
the "Whee-oo!" responded. The gryfs repeated the rumbling and at
intervals the "Whee-oo!" was repeated, coming ever closer.
Tarzan looked at Pan-at-lee. "What is it?" he asked.
"I do not know," she replied. "Perhaps a strange bird, or another
horrid beast that dwells in this frightful place."
"Ah," exclaimed Tarzan; "there it is. Look!"
Pan-at-lee voiced a cry of despair. "A Tor-o-don!"
The creature, walking erect and carrying a stick in one hand,
advanced at a slow, lumbering gait. It walked directly toward the
gryfs who moved aside, as though afraid. Tarzan watched intently.
The Tor-o-don was now quite close to one of the triceratops. It
swung its head and snapped at him viciously. Instantly the Tor-o-don
sprang in and commenced to belabor the huge beast across the face
with his stick. To the ape-man's amazement the gryf, that might
have annihilated the comparatively puny Tor-o-don instantly in any
of a dozen ways, cringed like a whipped cur.
"Whee-oo! Whee-oo!" shouted the Tor-o-don and the gryf came slowly
toward him. A whack on the median horn brought it to a stop. Then
the Tor-o-don walked around behind it, clambered up its tail and
seated himself astraddle of the huge back.
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