As the tribe continued their slow way through the forest
after the passing of Sabor, Tarzan's head was filled with
his great scheme for slaying his enemy, and for many days
thereafter he thought of little else.
On this day, however, he presently had other and more
immediate interests to attract his attention.
Suddenly it became as midnight; the noises of the jungle
ceased; the trees stood motionless as though in paralyzed
expectancy of some great and imminent disaster. All nature
waited--but not for long.
Faintly, from a distance, came a low, sad moaning. Nearer
and nearer it approached, mounting louder and louder in volume.
The great trees bent in unison as though pressed earthward
by a mighty hand. Farther and farther toward the ground
they inclined, and still there was no sound save the deep and
awesome moaning of the wind.
Then, suddenly, the jungle giants whipped back, lashing
their mighty tops in angry and deafening protest. A vivid and
blinding light flashed from the whirling, inky clouds above.
The deep cannonade of roaring thunder belched forth its fearsome
challenge. The deluge came--all hell broke loose upon the jungle.
The tribe shivering from the cold rain, huddled at the bases
of great trees. The lightning, darting and flashing through the
blackness, showed wildly waving branches, whipping streamers
and bending trunks.
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