There be
none among you as mighty as Tarzan. Let his enemies beware."
Looking full into the wicked, red eyes of Kerchak, the
young Lord Greystoke beat upon his mighty breast and
screamed out once more his shrill cry of defiance.
Chapter 8
The Tree-top Hunter
The morning after the Dum-Dum the tribe started slowly
back through the forest toward the coast.
The body of Tublat lay where it had fallen, for the people
of Kerchak do not eat their own dead.
The march was but a leisurely search for food. Cabbage
palm and gray plum, pisang and scitamine they found in
abundance, with wild pineapple, and occasionally small mammals,
birds, eggs, reptiles, and insects. The nuts they cracked
between their powerful jaws, or, if too hard, broke by pounding
between stones.
Once old Sabor, crossing their path, sent them scurrying to
the safety of the higher branches, for if she respected their
number and their sharp fangs, they on their part held her
cruel and mighty ferocity in equal esteem.
Upon a low-hanging branch sat Tarzan directly above the
majestic, supple body as it forged silently through the thick
jungle. He hurled a pineapple at the ancient enemy of his
people. The great beast stopped and, turning, eyed the
taunting figure above her.
With an angry lash of her tail she bared her yellow fangs,
curling her great lips in a hideous snarl that wrinkled her
bristling snout in serried ridges and closed her wicked eyes to
two narrow slits of rage and hatred.
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