out him.

"You have seen again to-day that Tarzan of the Apes is the greatest
among you," he said.

"HUH," they replied with one voice, "Tarzan is great."

"Tarzan," he continued, "is not an ape. He is not like his people.
His ways are not their ways, and so Tarzan is going back to the lair of
his own kind by the waters of the great lake which has no farther
shore. You must choose another to rule you, for Tarzan will not
return."

And thus young Lord Greystoke took the first step toward the goal which
he had set--the finding of other white men like himself.

Chapter XIII

His Own Kind

The following morning, Tarzan, lame and sore from the wounds of his
battle with Terkoz, set out toward the west and the seacoast.

He traveled very slowly, sleeping in the jungle at night, and reaching
his cabin late the following morning.

For several days he moved about but little, only enough to gather what
fruits and nuts he required to satisfy the demands of hunger.

In ten days he was quite sound again, except for a terrible,
half-healed scar, which, starting above his left eye ran across the top
of his head, ending at the right ear. It was the mark left by Terkoz
when he had torn the scalp away.

During his convalescence Tarzan tried to fashion a mantle from the skin
of Sabor, which had lain all this time in the cabin. But he found the
hide had dried as stiff as a board, and as he knew naught of tanning,
he was forced to abandon his cherished plan.

Then he determined to filch what few garments he could from one of the
black men of Mbonga's village, for Tarzan of the Apes had decided to
mark his evolution from the lower orders in every possible manner, and
nothing seemed to him a more distinguishing badge of manhood than
ornaments and clothing.

To this end, therefore, he collected the various arm and leg ornaments
he had taken from the black warriors who had succumbed to his swift and
silent noose, and donned them all after the way he had seen them worn.

About his neck hung the golden chain from which depended the diamond
encrusted locket of his mother, the Lady Alice. At his back was a
quiver of arrows slung from a leathern shoulder belt, another piece of
loot from some vanquished black.

About his waist was a belt of tiny strips of rawhide fashioned by
himself as a support for the home-made scabbard in which hung his
father's hunting knife. The long bow which had been Kulonga's hung
over his le