Presently he looked up and at Pan-at-lee. "Can you cross the gorge
through the trees very rapidly?" he questioned.
"Alone?" she asked.
"No," replied Tarzan.
"I can follow wherever you can lead," she said then.
"Across and back again?"
"Yes."
"Then come, and do exactly as I bid." He started back again through the
trees, swiftly, swinging monkey-like from limb to limb, following a
zigzag course that he tried to select with an eye for the difficulties
of the trail beneath. Where the underbrush was heaviest, where fallen
trees blocked the way, he led the footsteps of the creature below them;
but all to no avail. When they reached the opposite side of the gorge
the GRYF was with them.
"Back again," said Tarzan, and, turning, the two retraced their
high-flung way through the upper terraces of the ancient forest of
Kor-ul-GRYF. But the result was the same--no, not quite; it was worse,
for another GRYF had joined the first and now two waited beneath the
tree in which they stopped.
The cliff looming high above them with its innumerable cave mouths
seemed to beckon and to taunt them. It was so near, yet eternity yawned
between. The body of the Tor-o-don lay at the cliff's foot where it had
fallen. It was in plain view of the two in the tree. One of the gryfs
walked over and sniffed about it, but did not offer to devour it.
Tarzan had examined it casually as he had passed earlier in the
morning. He guessed that it represented either a very high order of ape
or a very low order of man--something akin to the Java man, perhaps; a
truer example of the pithecanthropi than either the Ho-don or the
Waz-don; possibly the precursor of them both. As his eyes wandered idly
over the scene below his active brain was working out the details of
the plan that he had made to permit Pan-at-lee's escape from the gorge.
His thoughts were interrupted by a strange cry from above them in the
gorge.
"Whee-oo! Whee-oo!" it sounded, coming closer.
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!"