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his huge body and the strength of his giant sinews--one mighty effort and Numa
was within the corral.
The enclosure contained a herd of goats which immediately upon the advent of
the carnivore started a mad stampede to the opposite end of the corral which was
bounded by the south wall of the city. Numa had been within such a corral as
this before, so that he knew that somewhere in the wall was a small door through
which the goatherd might pass from the city to his flock; toward this door he
made his way, whether by plan or accident it is difficult to say, though in the
light of ensuing events it seems possible that the former was the case.
To reach the gate he must pass directly through the herd which had huddled
affrightedly close to the opening so that once again there was a furious rush of
hoofs as Numa strode quickly to the side of the portal. If Numa had planned, he
had planned well, for scarcely had he reached his position when the door opened
and a herder's head was projected into the enclosure, the fellow evidently seeking
an explanation of the disturbance among his flock. Possibly he discovered the
cause of the commotion, but it is doubtful, for it was dark and the great, taloned
paw that reached up and struck downward a mighty blow that almost severed his
head from his body, moved so quickly and silently that the man was dead within
a fraction of a second from the moment that he opened the door, and then Numa,
knowing now his way, passed through the wall into the dimly lighted streets of
the city beyond.
Smith-Oldwick's first thought when he was accosted by the figure in the yellow
tunic of a soldier was to shoot the man dead and trust to his legs and the dimly
lighted, winding streets to permit his escape, for he knew that to be accosted was
equivalent to recapture since no inhabitant of this weird city but would recognize
him as an alien. It would be a simple thing to shoot the man from the pocket
where the pistol lay without drawing the weapon, and with this purpose in mind
the Englishman slipped his hands into the side pocket of his blouse, but
simultaneously with this action his wrist was seized in a powerful grasp and a
low voice whispered in English: "Lieutenant, it is I, Tarzan of the Apes."
The relief from the nervous strain under which he had been laboring for so long,
left Smith-Oldwick suddenly as weak as a babe, so that he was forced to grasp
the ape-man's arm for support--and when he found his voice all he could do was
to repeat: "You? You? I thought you were dead!"
"No, not dead," replied Tarzan, "and I see that you are not either. But how about
the girl?"
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