With renewed hope
he sprang rapidly forward and emerged from the mouth of the corridor
to find himself in a large circular enclosure the towering white
walls of which rose high upon every side--smooth perpendicular
walls upon the sheer face of which was no slightest foothold. To
his left lay a pool of water, one side of which lapped the foot
of the wall at this point. It was, doubtless, the wallow and the
drinking pool of the gryf.
And now the creature emerged from the corridor and Tarzan retreated
to the edge of the pool to make his last stand. There was no staff
with which to enforce the authority of his voice, but yet he made
his stand for there seemed naught else to do. Just beyond the
entrance to the corridor the gryf paused, turning its weak eyes in
all directions as though searching for its prey. This then seemed
the psychological moment for his attempt and raising his voice in
peremptory command the ape-man voiced the weird whee-oo! of the
Tor-o-don. Its effect upon the gryf was instantaneous and complete--with
a terrific bellow it lowered its three horns and dashed madly in
the direction of the sound.
To right nor to left was any avenue of escape, for behind him lay
the placid waters of the pool, while down upon him from before
thundered annihilation. The mighty body seemed already to tower
above him as the ape-man turned and dove into the dark waters.
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