He had covered barely a mile when he came upon the

black warrior standing in a little open space. In his hand

was his slender bow to which he had fitted one of his death

dealing arrows.

Opposite him across the little clearing stood Horta, the

boar, with lowered head and foam flecked tucks, ready to

charge.

Tarzan looked with wonder upon the strange creature beneath

him--so like him in form and yet so different in face

and color. His books had portrayed the NEGRO, but how

different had been the dull, dead print to this sleek thing of

ebony, pulsing with life.

As the man stood there with taut drawn bow Tarzan recognized him

not so much the NEGRO as the ARCHER of his picture book--

A stands for Archer

How wonderful! Tarzan almost betrayed his presence in

the deep excitement of his discovery.

But things were commencing to happen below him. The sinewy

black arm had drawn the shaft far back; Horta, the

boar, was charging, and then the black released the little

poisoned arrow, and Tarzan saw it fly with the quickness of

thought and lodge in the bristling neck of the boar.

Scarcely had the shaft left his bow ere Kulonga had fitted

another to it, but Horta, the boar, was upon him so quickly

that he had no time to discharge it. With a bound the black

leaped entirely over the rushing beast and turning with

incredible swiftness planted a second arrow in Horta's back.

Then Kulonga sprang into a near-by tree.

Horta wheeled to charge his enemy once more; a dozen steps

he took, then he staggered and fell upon his side. For a

moment his muscles stiffened and relaxed convulsively, then

he lay still.

Kulonga came down from his tree.