lattered by the words of the strange Tarmangani, who
called himself Mangani and spoke the language of the hairy progenitors
of man.

"Yes," said one, "we of the hill country are mighty fighters. Tantor
fears us. Numa fears us. Sheeta fears us. The Gomangani of the hill
country are glad to pass us by in peace. I, for one, will come with
you to the village of the Gomangani of the low places. I am the king's
first he-child. Alone can I kill all the Gomangani of the low
country," and he swelled his chest and strutted proudly back and forth,
until the itching back of a comrade commanded his industrious attention.

"I am Goob," cried another. "My fighting fangs are long. They are
sharp. They are strong. Into the soft flesh of many a Gomangani have
they been buried. Alone I slew the sister of Sheeta. Goob will go to
the low country with you and kill so many of the Gomangani that there
will be none left to count the dead," and then he, too, strutted and
pranced before the admiring eyes of the shes and the young.

Korak looked at the king, questioningly.

"Your bulls are very brave," he said; "but braver than any is the king."

Thus addressed, the shaggy bull, still in his prime--else he had been
no longer king--growled ferociously. The forest echoed to his lusty
challenges. The little baboons clutched fearfully at their mothers'
hairy necks. The bulls, electrified, leaped high in air and took up
the roaring challenge of their king. The din was terrific.

Korak came close to the king and shouted in his ear, "Come." Then he
started off through the forest toward the plain that they must cross on
their long journey back to the village of Kovudoo, the Gomangani. The
king, still roaring and shrieking, wheeled and followed him. In their
wake came the handful of low country baboons and the thousands of the
hill clan--savage, wiry, dog-like creatures, athirst for blood.

And so they came, upon the second day, to the village of Kovudoo. It
was mid-afternoon. The village was sunk in the quiet of the great
equatorial sun-heat. The mighty herd traveled quietly now. Beneath
the thousands of padded feet the forest gave forth no greater sound
than might have been produced by the increased soughing of a stronger
breeze through the leafy branches of the trees.

Korak and the two kings were in the lead. Close beside the village
they halted until the stragglers had closed up. Now utter silence
reigned. Korak, cree