"Perhaps he is one of them," suggested another.
"Yes," seconded a third, "perhaps he is one of the Zertalacolols."
"But their men are all cowards," urged the first speaker; "and this one fought like a warrior born."
"Yes, with his bare hands he fought till he went down."
"You should have seen how he threw diadets and warriors as one might pick up tiny pebbles and hurl them afar."
"He would not give a step, or run; and always he smiled."
"He does not look like the men of the Zertalacolols; ask him if he is."
He who had first addressed him put the question to Tarzan, but the ape-man only continued to glare at them.
"He does not understand me," said the warrior. "I do not think that he is a Zertalacolol, though. What he is, however, I do not know."
He approached and examined Tarzan's wounds. "These will soon be healed. In seven days, or less, he will be fit for the quarries."