After Tov, he looked down at Pan-at. “Can you very quickly sky across the gorge through the trees?” he asked.
“Alone?” asked the girl.
“No,” Tarzan replied.
“I can follow wherever you are able to lead,” the girl assured at the time.
“Cross over and back again?”
“So come, and do exactly as I say.” He went back through the trees, hastily, swinging monkey from branch to branch and following the kneeling tola he tried to pick, keeping an eye on its difficulties down; where the undergrowth was most dense and the fallen trees piled up into rye, there he led the steps of the creature. But it didn’t help. As they reached the opposite side of the gorge, Gryf was with them.
“Back again,” said Tarzan, and turning, the two retreated on their airy journey through the plateaus 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 previous one, and now the two were waiting at the foot of the tree on which they had stopped.
A rock rising high above them with its innumerable caverns seemed to signify to them and mock them. It was so close, and yet yawned in eternity in between. The carcass of Tor-o-don crept at the base of the rock where it had fallen. It was clearly visible to those two tree occupants. Another Gryf stepped in to smell it, but didn’t even try to visit it to devour it. Tarzan had witnessed it in passing earlier in the morning. He thought it represented either a very high class of monkeys or an inherently low class of man — perhaps it was of some kind to the Javanese man, a more real example of pithecanthropus, or monkey humans, than the Khodons or Waz-don, possibly a pioneer of both. As his eyes wander over the scene below the idle loan, his active brain pondered the details of its plan, which he had pondered to get Pan-at-lin rescued from the gorge. His thoughts were interrupted by a strange shout from the top of the gorge.
“Vhi-uu! Vhi-uu!” rumored closer and closer.
The griffins lurking below raised their heads and looked in the direction of the disturbance. A rubbery growl stuck in the throat of another. It was not a roar and did not express anger. “Vhi-uu!” was answered immediately. The Gryfs repeated the roar, and on several occasions the approaching “vhi-uu!”
Tarzan looked at the Pan-at line. “What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” waz-don replied. “Perhaps a strange bird or again some terrible beast that inhabits this terrible place.”
“Look, that’s it,” Tarzan exclaimed. “Look!”
A frenzy of despair came from the pan-at-lil. “Tor-o-don!”
Walking upright and the wand in one hand approached the creature slowly, dragging. It came straight towards the gryffins, who pulled the likings as if afraid. Tarzan watched closely. Tor-o-don was now quite close to the second triceratops. It waved its head and stared at him, facing angrily. Tor-o-don immediately jumped to fist the face of a huge beast with his wand. To the astonishment of the monkey man, Gryf, who in a blink of an eye would have been able to destroy the relatively small Tor-o-don in ten ways, skimmed like a beaten rocket.
“Vhi-uu! Vhi-uu!” tormented Tor-o-don, and Gryf stepped loosely toward him. Brushing into the middle horn made it stop. Then Tor-o-don walked behind it, climbed up all the way to his tail and sat down on his stiff back with stray legs. “Vhi-uu!” he would scream at the creatures of the wicked with the sharp tip of his wand. Gryf began to toss away.
The scene had captured Tarzan’s attention to such an extent that he had not even thought of escaping, for he realized that in those short moments time had turned back to him and Pan-at-Lille for countless ages, to spread before their eyes the dim and distant antiquity of the page. The two of them had been allowed to watch the early humans and his primitive leaders.
But the ridden Gryf stopped now and looked up at them mourning. That was enough. The creature had warned its master of their presence. Tor-o-don drove the creature immediately under the tree where they were staying and jumped to stand on the back with a toothbrush. Tarzan saw an animal face, big canines, awesome muscles. Of all these, the human race had originated, for only such beings could have survived the horrible dangers of antiquity.
Tor-o-don banged his chest and growled terribly – as a horrible, beastly rum. Tarzan rose to his fullest with a swaying branch — straight and beautiful as a demigod, unspoiled by the shadows of civilization, as a perfect example of what the human race might have been if human laws had not violated the laws of nature.
And Present atoned arrow jouseensa arm and pulled far back. Relying on a brute force, the Past sought to reach another, to pull him down; but the bouncing arrow sank deep into the wild heart, and the Past sank back into the oblivion that had inherited his species.
“Tarzan-jad-guru!” jupisi Pan-at-li, admiring the lavishness, unknowingly giving him the same name he had received from the Waz-Don warriors.
The monkey turned to him. “Pan-at-li,” he crocheted, “these beasts could hold us in the trees for any length of time. I doubt if we could be saved together, but I have a plan. You stay here in the foliage’s cache, slipping back across the gorge from their sight and alerting them. attention with my cries.If they have no more consciousness than I imagine, they will both follow me.After they go you will rush to the rock.Wait for me in the cave, but not beyond this day.If you do not come when the sun of tomorrow rises, you must go back to Kor-ul alone. is a deer blade for you. ” He had cut the back stone of the deer and handed it to the girl.
“I can’t abandon you,” the girl simply denied; “It is not the custom of my people to leave a friend and ally in short supply. Om-at would never forgive me.”
“Tell Om-at that I told you to leave,” Tarzan replied.
“Is that a command?” asked the girl.
“Yes! Goodbye, Pan-at-li. Hurry back to Om-at – you are a suitable life partner for the master of kor-ul-ja.” He slowly set off in the trees.
“Goodbye, Tarzan-jad-guru!” shouted the girl after him. “Happy are Om-Atini and his Pan-at-lens in owning such a friend.”
Loudly hoarse, Tarzan continued his journey, and tempted by his cries, huge graffiti followed. His plot was apparently thriving, and he rejoiced as he led the roaring beasts away and further away from the Pan-at list.
On several occasions, Tarzan, with this plowing across the gorge, tried to trick his ardent pursuers, but it was utterly useless. Though he deviated, he did not deceive them with his foolishness, but they knew how to change their direction according to his every turn. On the edge of the forest at the southeastern edge of the gorge, he looked for some point where the trees would touch the accessible part of the rock, but as he moved up and down along the edge of the gorge he could not detect any such nice way of escape. The ape man finally began to think of his position as hopeless and to fully comprehend why the races of Pal-ul-don had long since become so rid of the abyss of Kor-ul-gryf.
The night made its arrival, and though he had diligently sought access to his impasse from an early morning, he was no closer to freedom than the moment when the first howling beast, as he bowed over his prey, had fled against him; but the arrival of the night revived hope again, for Tarzan, like the big cats, was to some extent a nightlife.
But again, an important shortcoming occurred to him — he didn’t know the gryf, and before the night was over he wondered if those creatures ever slept, for wherever he moved, they stayed with them, always blocking the way for him to freedom. Eventually, just before the dawn of the day, this time he gave up trying and sought rest on a friendly fork in the safe height of the mid-level.
Again, the sun was high as Tarzan awoke rested and refreshed. Carefully remembering the necessities of the station, he did not even try to find out the whereabouts of his guards, so as not to express his movements to them. Instead, he tried cautiously and sounded to merge out into the foliage of the trees. However, his first move was greeted by a swampy chant from below.
Among the numerous subtleties of civilization that Tarzan had not embraced was rainfall, which, after all, must be admitted in very special circumstances to produce even relief for a tense state of mind. And perhaps Tarzan sometimes descended to rain, if there may be a bodily as well as a phonetic witchcraft, for as soon as the grunt declared his wishes had gone back into the myth, he turned quickly and, seeing the gryph’s pleasing face, grabbed a large fruit from a like branch The projectile hit directly between the eyes, making a stunning impression; it did not heart the creature into the rage of vengeance as Tarzan had expected and hoped, but this one glared angrily at the fruit bouncing off his skull and then turned away abruptly,
That appearance immediately brought to Tarzan’s mind a similar scene from the day before, when Tor-o-don had slapped such a creature with his wand in his face, and at the same time an intelligent plan of escape that could have whitened the cheek of even the most heroic man.
However, he smiled as he prepared for the greatest play that man can make of the game of living; and there was no sign of urgency, agitation, or nervousness in his behavior.
First, he chose a long, straight branch that was about two inches thick at the base. He cut it off the tree with his knife and pruned the branches until he had a ten-foot-long swarm. He sharpened this from the smaller end. After getting the rod to his liking, he looked down at the triceratops. “Vhi-uu!” he stumbled.
The animals immediately raised their heads and looked at him. There was a faintly rubbery growl in the other’s throat.
“Vhi-uu!” repeated Tarzan and threw the remains of the goat carcass at them.
Fiercely grumbling, the gryfs grabbed it immediately, as another tried to grab it completely for himself; but the other also soon had his teeth struck, and in the moment it had been torn to pieces and greedily swallowed. Again they looked up at the monkey man, and this time they saw him land on the ground.
Another beast stood towards him. Tarzan would scream again at Tor-o-don’s strange cry. Gryf stopped plaguely, seemingly puzzled, as Tarzan slid lightly to the ground and approached the more like creature, the salmon menacingly elevated, and the cry of the Primitive man on his lips.
Would the quiet roar of the truck driver or the frantic roar of a cannibal respond to the cry? The answer to this question depended on the fate of the ape.
* * * * *
Fiercely listening to the sounds of Pan-at-li’s fading graffiti as Tarzan cunningly led them away from him, and making sure they were far enough away for him to safely retreat, he would quickly fall from the branches to the ground and whistle like a frightened Capricorn across the opening at the foot of the rock -don over the body and was soon hastily climbing up the ancient stone pieces of a deserted rock village. At the mouth of a cave near where he had spent the night, he lit a fire and baked a piece of game he had received from Tarzan, and along the wall of a watering stripe he quenched his thirst.
He waited all day, hearing the murmurs of the gryfs from afar and sometimes up close, as they were troubled by the strange creature that had so miraculously appeared in his life.
He waited that day and night, hoping he would return so that together they would return to Om-at, for his experience had taught him that in the face of danger, two have a better chance than one. But Tarzan-jad-guru had not been heard, and so Pan-at-li went on his way back to Kor-ul-ja the next morning.
He arrived at Kor-ul-lul without resistance, and after descending its quarry southern wall without seeing with glimpse the traditional enemies of his people, he gained new confidence, almost outright assurance, that his business would end with good success and he would not be able to see his unhindered people and lover during many long and tedious lunar phases.
He had now almost crossed the gorge and moved in the slightest relentlessly of his caution, in as good a confidence as he had come, for caution is an instinctive feature of the initial state, which cannot be left for a moment if one wishes to survive. And so he arrived on the trail that follows the meander of Kor-ul-Lul from its upper arms down to the vast and fertile valley of Jad-ben-Otho.
As he stepped onto the track, twenty large, white Hondon warriors, as if embodied from the air, rose from each side of the bush along the path of the path. As the frightened Capricorn, Pan-at-li created a single distressed look at these threats to his freedom and jumped toward the bushes, for salvation; but the warriors were too close. They besieged him from all sides, and then, revealing his knife, he turned to resistance, transformed by an excitement of fear and anger from a frightened deer to a raging tiger. They did not seek to kill him, but to defeat and imprison him; and thus several Hdonite warriors got to feel the blade of his weapon in their flesh before they had succeeded in discouraging him in number. And he fought and nailed, and Puri still took them, and took a knife from him,
At first he refused to walk as they set out for the valley; but after two of them had grabbed his hair and dragged him on someone’s journey, he reconsidered his original decision and came with them, though still as defiant as the clasped wrists and clogged mouth allowed.
After they joined the other team, the whole swarm of the valley swept away, and from the discussion of their captors, Pan-at-li soon learned that he was on his way to A-luri, the City of Light. the loss of a promised life partner.