rought it away
sticky with clotted blood. He sniffed at his fingersas a wild beast might
sniff at the life-blood upon a wounded paw.
Slowly he rose to a sitting posture--listening. No sound reached to the
buried depths of his sepulcher. He staggered to his feetand groped his
way about among the tiers of ingots. What was he? Where was he? His
head ached; but otherwise he felt no ill effects from the blow that had
felled him. The accident he did not recallnor did he recall aught of what
had led up to it.
He let his hands grope unfamiliarly over his limbshis torsoand his
head. He felt of the quiver at his backthe knife in his loin cloth.
Something struggled for recognition within his brain. Ah
discount louis vuitton purses! he had it.
There was something missing. He crawled about upon the floorfeeling
with his hands for the thing that instinct warned him was gone. At last he
found it--the heavy war spear that in past years had formed so important a
feature of his daily lifealmost of his very existenceso inseparably had it
been connected with his every action since the long-gone day that he had
wrested his first spear from the body of a black victim of his savage
training.
Tarzan was sure that there was another and more lovely world than
thyilai：
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