He was a
M-A-N, they were A-P-E-S, and the little apes which scurried
through the forest top were M-O-N-K-E-Y-S. He knew, too,
that old Sabor was a L-I-O-N-E-S-S, and Histah a S-N-A-K-E,
and Tantor an E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T. And so he learned to read.
From then on his progress was rapid. With the help of the
great dictionary and the active intelligence of a healthy mind
endowed by inheritance with more than ordinary reasoning
powers he shrewdly guessed at much which he could not
really understand, and more often than not his guesses were
close to the mark of truth.
There were many breaks in his education, caused by the
migratory habits of his tribe, but even when removed from
his books his active brain continued to search out the
mysteries of his fascinating avocation.
Pieces of bark and flat leaves and even smooth stretches of
bare earth provided him with copy books whereon to scratch
with the point of his hunting knife the lessons he was learning.
Nor did he neglect the sterner duties of life while following
the bent of his inclination toward the solving of the mystery
of his library.
He practiced with his rope and played with his sharp knife,
which he had learned to keep keen by whetting upon flat stones.
The tribe had grown larger since Tarzan had come among
them, for under the leadership of Kerchak they had been
able to frighten the other tribes from their part of the jungle
so that they had plenty to eat and little or no loss from
predatory incursions of neighbors.
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