"Together we have slain the Dyal," said Tarzan. "Had we not come it
would have killed you. Had you not cast your spear it would have killed
us. Therefore, we should be friends, not enemies. Where are you going?"
"Back to my own country," replied Thoar, nodding in the direction that
Tarzan and Tar-gash had been travelling.
"We, too, are going in that direction," said Tarzan. "Let us go
together. Six hands are better than four."
Thoar glanced at the Sagoth.
"Shall we all go together as friends, Tar-gash?" demanded Tarzan.
"It is not done," said the Sagoth, precisely as though he had behind
him thousands of years of civilization and culture.
Tarzan smiled one of his rare smiles. "We shall do it, then," he said.
"Come!"
As though taking it for granted that the others would obey his command,
the ape-man turned to the body of the Dyal and, drawing his hunting
knife, fell to work cutting off portions of the meat. For a moment
Thoar and Tar-gash hesitated, eyeing each other suspiciously, and then
the bronzed warrior walked over to assist Tarzan and presently Tar-gash
joined them.
Thoar exhibited keen interest in Tarzan's steel knife, which slid so
easily through the flesh while he hacked and hewed laboriously with
his stone implement; while Tar-gash seemed not particularly to notice
either of the implements as he sunk his strong fangs into the breast
of the Dyal and tore away a large hunk of the meat, which he devoured
raw. Tarzan was about to do the same, having been raised exclusively
upon a diet of raw meat, when he saw Thoar preparing to make fire,
which he accomplished by the primitive expedient of friction. The three
ate in silence, the Sagoth carrying his meat to a little distance from
the others, perhaps because in him the instinct of the wild beast was
stronger.
When they had finished they followed the trail upward toward the pass
through which it led across the hills, and as they went Tarzan sought
to question Thoar concerning his country and its people, but so limited
is the primitive vocabulary of the Sagoths and so meager Thoar's
knowledge of this language that they found communication difficult and
Tarzan determined to master Thoar's tongue.
Considerable experience in learning new dialects and languages rendered
the task far from difficult and as the ape-man never for a moment
relinquished a purpose he intended to achieve, nor ever abandoned a
task that he had set himself until it had been successfully concluded,
he made rapid progress which was greatly facilitated by the interest
which Thoar took in instructing him.
As they reached the summit of the low hills, they saw, hazily in the
far distance, what appeared to be a range of lofty mountains.
"There," said Thoar, pointing, "lies Zoram."
"What is Zoram?" asked Tarzan.
"It is my country," replied the warrior. "It lies in the Mountains of
the Thipdars."
This was the second time that Tarzan had heard a reference to thipdars.
Tar-gash had said the aeroplane was a thipdar and now Thoar spoke of
the Mountains of the Thipdars. "What is a thipdar?" he asked.
Thoar looked at him in astonishment. "From what country do you come,"
he demanded, "that you do not know what a thipdar is and do not speak
the language of the gilaks?"
"I am not of Pellucidar," said Tarzan.
"I could believe that," said Thoar, "if there were any other place from
which you could be, but there is not, except Molop Az, the flaming sea
upon which Pellucidar floats. But the only inhabitants of the Molop Az
are the little demons, who carry the dead who are buried in the ground,
piece by piece, down to Molop Az, and while I have never seen one of
these little demons I am sure that they are not like you."
"No," said Tarzan, "I am not from Molop Az, yet sometimes I have
thought that the world from which I come is inhabited by demons, both
large and small."
As they hunted and ate and slept and marched together, these three
creatures found their confidence in one another increasing so that even
Tar-gash looked no longer with suspicion upon Thoar, and though they
represented three distinct periods in the ascent of man, each separated
from the other by countless thousands of years, yet they had so much
in common that the advance which man had made from Tar-gash to Tarzan
seemed scarcely a fair recompense for the time and effort which Nature
must have expended.
Tarzan could not even conjecture the length of time he had been absent
from the O-220, but he was confident that he must be upon the wrong
trail, yet it seemed futile to turn back since he could not possibly
have any idea as to what direction he should take. His one hope was
that either he might be sighted by the pilot of the plane, which he
was certain was hunting for him, or that the O-220, in cruising about,
would eventually pass within signaling distance of him. In the meantime
he might as well be with Tar-gash and Thoar as elsewhere.
The three had eaten and slept again and were resuming their journey
when Tarzan's keen eyes espied from the summit of a low hill something
lying upon an open plain at a considerable distance ahead of them.
He did not know what it was, but he was sure that whatever it was,
it was not a part of the natural landscape, there being about it
that indefinable suggestion of discord, or, more properly, lack of
harmony with its surroundings that every man whose perception has not
been dulled by city dwelling will understand. And as it was almost
instinctive with Tarzan to investigate anything that he did not
understand, he turned his footsteps in the direction of the thing that
he had seen.
The object that had aroused his curiosity was hidden from him almost
immediately after he started the descent of the hill upon which he had
stood when he discovered it; nor did it come again within the range of
his vision until he was close upon it, when to his astonishment and
dismay he saw that it was the wreck of an aeroplane.