The heavy fragrance of
tropical blooms, the commingled odors of the myriad-scented life
of the jungle went to his head with a pleasurable intoxication
far more potent than aught contained in the oldest vintages of
civilization.
He took to the trees now, not from necessity but from pure love of
the wild freedom that had been denied him so long. Though it was
dark and the forest strange yet he moved with a surety and ease
that bespoke more a strange uncanny sense than wondrous skill. He
heard ja moaning somewhere ahead and an owl hooted mournfully to
the right of him--long familiar sounds that imparted to him no sense
of loneliness as they might to you or to me, but on the contrary
one of companionship for they betokened the presence of his fellows
of the jungle, and whether friend or foe it was all the same to
the ape-man.
He came at last to a little stream at a spot where the trees did
not meet above it so he was forced to descend to the ground and
wade through the water and upon the opposite shore he stopped as
though suddenly his godlike figure had been transmuted from flesh
to marble. Only his dilating nostrils bespoke his pulsing vitality.
For a long moment he stood there thus and then swiftly, but with
a caution and silence that were inherent in him he moved forward
again, but now his whole attitude bespoke a new urge.
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