Faintly, from a distance, Tarzan heard something approaching. He heard it just a moment before the Sagoths heard it.
"They come!" announced Tar-gash.
"M'wa-lot comes," said another, glancing at To-yad. Now Tarzan knew why the primitive drum had been sounded, but he wondered why they were gathering.
At last they arrived, nor was it difficult for Tarzan to recognize M'wa-lot, the king among the others. A great bull walked in front—a bull with so much gray among the hairs on his face that the latter had a slightly bluish complexion, and instantly the ape-man saw how the king had come by his name.
As soon as the Sagoths with Tarzan were convinced of the identity of the approaching party, they descended from the trees to the ground and when M'wa-lot had approached within twenty paces of them, he halted. "I am M'wa-lot," he announced. "With me are the people of my tribe."
"I am Tar-gash," replied the bull who seemed to be in charge of the other party. "With me are other bulls of the tribe of M'wa-lot."
This precautionary preliminary over, M'wa-lot advanced, followed by the bulls, the shes and the balus of his tribe.
"What is that?" demanded M'wa-lot, as his fierce eyes espied Tarzan.
"It is a gilak that we found caught in our snare," replied Tar-gash.
"That is the feast that you called us to?" demanded M'wa-lot, angrily. "You should have brought it to the tribe. It can walk."