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Burroughs, Edgar Rice, 1875-1950

"Son of Tarzan"

Now the Killer rose upon the branch
of the great tree where he had been sleeping with his back braced
against the stem. He stretched his lithe young muscles, the moonlight
filtering through the foliage from above dappling his brown skin
with little patches of light.
The ape, too, stood up, half squatting after the manner of his
kind. Low growls rumbled from the bottom of his deep chest--growls
of excited anticipation. The boy growled in harmony with the ape.
Then the anthropoid slid softly to the ground. Close by, in the
direction of the booming drum, lay a clearing which they must cross.
The moon flooded it with silvery light. Half-erect, the great ape
shuffled into the full glare of the moon. At his side, swinging
gracefully along in marked contrast to the awkwardness of his
companion, strode the boy, the dark, shaggy coat of the one brushing
against the smooth, clear hide of the other. The lad was humming
now, a music hall air that had found its way to the forms of the
great English public school that was to see him no more. He was
happy and expectant.


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