Тарзан, приёмыш обезьян

The Village of Torture

           Nighthadfallenandhetraveledhighalongtheupperterracewherethegorgeoustropicmoonlightedthedizzypathwaythroughthegentlyundulatingbranchesofthetreetops.

           Presentlyhecaughtthereflectionofadistantblaze.Itlaytotherightofhispath.ItmustbethelightfromthecampfirethetwomenhadbuiltbeforetheywereattackedTarzanknewnothingofthepresenceofthesailors.

           SosurewasTarzanofhisjungleknowledgethathedidnotturnfromhiscourse,butpassedtheglareatadistanceofahalfmile.ItwasthecampfireoftheFrenchmen.

           InafewminutesmoreTarzanswungintothetreesaboveMbonga’svillage.Ah,hewasnotquitetoolate!Or,washe?Hecouldnottell.Thefigureatthestakewasverystill,yettheblackwarriorswerebutprickingit.

           Tarzanknewtheircustoms.Thedeathblowhadnotbeenstruck.Hecouldtellalmosttoaminutehowfarthedancehadgone.

           InanotherinstantMbonga’sknifewouldseveroneofthevictim’searsthatwouldmarkthebeginningoftheend,forveryshortlyafteronlyawrithingmassofmutilatedfleshwouldremain.

           Therewouldstillbelifeinit,butdeaththenwouldbetheonlycharityitcraved.

           Thestakestoodfortyfeetfromthenearesttree.Tarzancoiledhisrope.Thenthererosesuddenlyabovethefiendishcriesofthedancingdemonstheawfulchallengeoftheape-man.

           Thedancershaltedasthoughturnedtostone.

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