Far away, at the edge of the jungle, fifty ebon warriors were camped
in a grassy clearing. They were fine, stalwart men with regular
features and strong, white teeth. One of them was strumming upon a
crude stringed instrument, while two of his fellows were dancing in the
firelight that gleamed back from the glossy velvet of their skin. Their
weapons, laid aside, were within easy reach and many of them still wore
the plumed head-dress of their tribe. Their stern faces were lighted by
smiles, for this was their hour of relaxation, following a hard day of
fruitless search.
A giant white man, swinging through the trees, approached the camp of
the fifty warriors. He was naked but for a leopard skin, and armed
only with a long rope and a hunting knife. Through the darkness of the
jungle, he moved with perfect sureness and in utter silence. Numa, the
hunting lion, down wind from him, caught his scent and growled. It was
a scent that Numa knew well, and feared.
[Illustration: A giant white man, swinging through the trees.]
It was not alone the scent of man--it was the scent of The Man.
Presently he dropped lightly to the ground beside the camp. Instantly
the warriors were upon their feet, their weapons ready in their hands.
"It is I, my children," said the man. "It is I, Tarzan of the Apes!"
The warriors tossed aside their weapons. "Welcome Big Bwana!" "Welcome,
Tarzan!" they called.
"What luck, Muviro?" demanded the ape-man.
"None, master," replied a mighty black. "We have searched in all
directions, but we have seen no spoor of the white boys."
"Nor I," said Tarzan. "I am half convinced that the Mugalla whom we
questioned a week ago lied to us, when he said that they had come to
his village and that Galla Galla, their chief, had sent them on toward
my country with some friendly Karendo traders. Tomorrow we shall set
out for the village of Galla Galla."