“What is money?” inquired Tarzan.
It took a long time to make him understand even imperfectly.
“How do men get money?” he asked at last.
“They work for it.”
“Very well. I will work for it, then.”
“No, my friend,” returned D’Arnot, “you need not worry about money, nor need you work for it. I have enough money for two—enough for twenty. Much more than is good for one man and you shall have all you need if ever we reach civilization.”
So on the following day they started north along the shore. Each man carrying a rifle and ammunition, beside bedding and some food and cooking utensils.
The latter seemed to Tarzan a most useless encumbrance, so he threw his away.
“But you must learn to eat cooked food, my friend,” remonstrated D’Arnot. “No civilized men eat raw flesh.”
“There will be time enough when I reach civilization,” said Tarzan. “I do not like the things and they only spoil the taste of good meat.”