It was no member of the House of Lords who swung swiftly and grimly
through the tangled forest or trod with untiring muscles the wide
stretches of open plain--it was a great he ape filled with a single
purpose that excluded all thoughts of fatigue or danger.

Little Manu, the monkey, scolding and chattering in the upper
terraces of the forest, saw him pass. Long had it been since he had
thus beheld the great Tarmangani naked and alone hurtling through
the jungle. Bearded and gray was Manu, the monkey, and to his dim
old eyes came the fire of recollection of those days when Tarzan
of the Apes had ruled supreme, Lord of the Jungle, over all the
myriad life that trod the matted vegetation between the boles of
the great trees, or flew or swung or climbed in the leafy fastness
upward to the very apex of the loftiest terraces.

And Numa, the lion, lying up for the day close beside last night's
successful kill, blinked his yellow-green eyes and twitched his
tawny tail as he caught the scent spoor of his ancient enemy.

Nor was Tarzan senseless to the presence of Numa or Manu or any of
the many jungle beasts he passed in his rapid flight towards the
west. No particle had his shallow probing of English society dulled
his marvelous sense faculties. His nose had picked out the presence
of Numa, the lion, even before the majestic king of beasts was
aware of his passing.

He had heard noisy little Manu, and even the soft rustling of the
parting shrubbery where Sheeta passed before either of these alert
animals sensed his presence.

But however keen the senses of the ape-man, however swift his
progress through the wild country of his adoption, however mighty
the muscles that bore him, he was still mortal. Time and space
placed their inexorable limits upon him; nor was there another who
realized this truth more keenly than Tarzan. He chafed and fretted
that he could not travel with the swiftness of thought and that the
long tedious miles stretching far ahead of him must require hours
and hours of tireless effort upon his part before he would swing
at last from the final bough of the fringing forest into the open
plain and in sight of his goal.

Days it took, even though he lay up at night for but a few hours
and left to chance the finding of meat directly on his trail. If
Wappi, the antelope, or Horta, the boar, chanced in his way when
he was hungry, he ate, pausing but long enough to make the kill
and cut himself a steak.