His fingers clenched and unclenched spasmodically as he approached the trembling Russ, beastlike and ominous as a brute of prey.
Presently he saw that Sheeta was about to forestall him, robbing him of the fruits of his great hate.
He called sharply to the panther, and the words, as if they had broken a hideous spell that had held the Russian, galvanized him into sudden action. With a scream he turned and fled toward the bridge.
After him pounced Sheeta the panther, unmindful of his master’s warning voice.
Tarzan was about to leap after the two when he felt a light touch upon his arm. Turning, he found Jane at his elbow.
“Do not leave me,” she whispered. “I am afraid.”
Tarzan glanced behind her.
All about were the hideous apes of Akut. Some, even, were approaching the young woman with bared fangs and menacing guttural warnings.
The ape-man warned them back. He had forgotten for the moment that these were but beasts, unable to differentiate his friends and his foes. Their savage natures were roused by their recent battle with the sailors, and now all flesh outside the pack was meat to them.
Tarzan turned again toward the Russian, chagrined that he should have to forgo the pleasure of personal revenge—unless the man should escape Sheeta. But as he looked he saw that there could be no hope of that. The fellow had retreated to the end of the bridge, where he now stood trembling and wide-eyed, facing the beast that moved slowly toward him.