Give me your spear, and--don't run. The only
hope we have lies in that little brain more than in us. If I can
control it--well, let us see."
The beast had emerged from the forest and was looking about through
his weak eyes, evidently in search of them. Tarzan raised his voice
in the weird notes of the Tor-o-don's cry, "Whee-oo! Whee-oo!
Whee-oo!" For a moment the great beast stood motionless, his attention
riveted by the call. The ape-man advanced straight toward him, Jane
Clayton at his elbow. "Whee-oo!" he cried again peremptorily. A
low rumble rolled from the gryf's cavernous chest in answer to the
call, and the beast moved slowly toward them.
"Fine!" exclaimed Tarzan. "The odds are in our favor now. You can
keep your nerve?--but I do not need to ask."
"I know no fear when I am with Tarzan of the Apes," she replied
softly, and he felt the pressure of her soft fingers on his arm.
And thus the two approached the giant monster of a forgotten
epoch until they stood close in the shadow of a mighty shoulder.
"Whee-oo!" shouted Tarzan and struck the hideous snout with the
shaft of the spear. The vicious side snap that did not reach its
mark--that evidently was not intended to reach its mark--was the
hoped-for answer.
"Come," said Tarzan, and taking Jane by the hand he led her around
behind the monster and up the broad tail to the great, horned back.
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