watered. The grasses where Numa lay were very still now--ominously
still. Horta passed beneath Tarzan--a few more steps and he would
be within the radius of Numa's spring. Tarzan could imagine how old
Numa's eyes were shining--how he was already sucking in his breath
for the awful roar which would freeze his prey for the brief instant
between the moment of the spring and the sinking of terrible fangs
into splintering bones.

But as Numa gathered himself, a slender rope flew through the air
from the low branches of a near-by tree. A noose settled about
Horta's neck. There was a frightened grunt, a squeal, and then Numa
saw his quarry dragged backward up the trail, and, as he sprang,
Horta, the boar, soared upward beyond his clutches into the tree
above, and a mocking face looked down and laughed into his own.

Then indeed did Numa roar. Angry, threatening, hungry, he paced
back and forth beneath the taunting ape-man. Now he stopped, and,
rising on his hind legs against the stem of the tree that held his
enemy, sharpened his huge claws upon the bark, tearing out great
pieces that laid bare the white wood beneath.

And in the meantime Tarzan had dragged the struggling Horta to
the limb beside him. Sinewy fingers completed the work the choking
noose had commenced. The ape-man had no knife, but nature had
equipped him with the means of tearing his food from the quivering
flank of his prey, and gleaming teeth sank into the succulent flesh
while the raging lion looked on from below as another enjoyed the
dinner that he had thought already his.

It was quite dark by the time Tarzan had gorged himself. Ah, but