Apes plunged, wary and noiseless--once more a savage beast hunting
its food. For a time he kept to the ground, but finally, discovering
no spoor indicative of nearby meat, he took to the trees. With
the first dizzy swing from tree to tree all the old joy of living
swept over him. Vain regrets and dull heartache were forgotten.
Now was he living. Now, indeed, was the true happiness of perfect
freedom his. Who would go back to the stifling, wicked cities of
civilized man when the mighty reaches of the great jungle offered
peace and liberty? Not he.

While it was yet light Tarzan came to a drinking place by the side
of a jungle river. There was a ford there, and for countless ages
the beasts of the forest had come down to drink at this spot. Here
of a night might always be found either Sabor or Numa crouching in
the dense foliage of the surrounding jungle awaiting an antelope or
a water buck for their meal. Here came Horta, the boar, to water,
and here came Tarzan of the Apes to make a kill, for he was very
empty.

On a low branch he squatted above the trail. For an hour he
waited. It was growing dark. A little to one side of the ford
in the densest thicket he heard the faint sound of padded feet,
and the brushing of a huge body against tall grasses and tangled
creepers. None other than Tarzan might have heard it, but the
ape-man heard and translated--it was Numa, the lion, on the same
errand as himself. Tarzan smiled.

Presently he heard an animal approaching warily along the trail
toward the drinking place. A moment more and it came in view--it
was Horta, the boar. Here was delicious meat--and Tarzan's mouth