that God is all-powerful. It must be that God made me do these
things, for I never did them by myself. It was God who made Teeka rush
upon Histah. Teeka would never go near Histah of her own volition. It
was God who held my knife from the throat of the old Gomangani. God
accomplishes strange things for he is 'all-powerful.' I cannot see Him;
but I know that it must be God who does these things. No Mangani, no
Gomangani, no Tarmangani could do them."

And the flowers--who made them grow? Ah, now it was all explained--the
flowers, the trees, the moon, the sun, himself, every living creature
in the jungle--they were all made by God out of nothing.

And what was God? What did God look like? Of that he had no conception;
but he was sure that everything that was good came from God. His good
act in refraining from slaying the poor, defenseless old Gomangani;
Teeka's love that had hurled her into the embrace of death; his own
loyalty to Teeka which had jeopardized his life that she might live.
The flowers and the trees were good and beautiful. God had made them.
He made the other creatures, too, that each might have food upon which
to live. He had made Sheeta, the panther, with his beautiful coat; and
Numa, the lion, with his noble head and his shaggy mane. He had made
Bara, the deer, lovely and graceful.

Yes, Tarzan had found God, and he spent the whole day in attributing to
Him all of the good and beautiful things of nature; but there was one
thing which troubled him. He could not quite reconcile it to his
conception of his new-found God.

Who made Histah, the snake?

5

Tarzan and the Black Boy

TARZAN OF THE Apes sat at the foot of a great tree braiding a new grass
rope. Beside him lay the frayed remnants of the old one, torn and
severed by the fangs and talons of Sheeta, the panther. Only half the
original rope was there, the balance having been carried off by the
angry cat as he bounded away through the jungle with the noose still
about his savage neck and the loose end dragging among the underbrush.

Tarzan smiled as he recalled Sheeta's great rage, his frantic efforts
to free himself from the entangling strands, his uncanny screams that
were part hate, part anger, part terror. He smiled in retrospection at
the discomfiture of his enemy, and in anticipation of another day as he
added an extra strand to his new rope.

This would be the strongest, the