It ain't civilized."

Tarzan didn't move.

"The clock is running on that two minutes," Gromvitch said, snapping the cover off the holster of his .45.

Talent, though not looking directly at Tarzan, inched forward, his hand next to his holster. Tarzan sensed immediately that, though all of the men were ruthless. Talent was the most deadly, determined, and in love with killing. He had faced men like him before, and he knew their body language. He knew you gave them absolutely no quarter

"How are we for time?" Tarzan said.

Cannon exploded. "Time's up!" He jerked his .45 from its holster and pointed it at the ape-man's heart.

Blinding. That is one way to describe the movements of Tarzan. To say that he struck swift as Ara the lightning is another. But neither do him justice. Even as he moved, he spoke a few words to Jad-bal-ja in the language the lion understood, and simultaneously grasped Cannon's pistol hand and his throat as Jad-bal-ja leaped upon Gromvitch.

Tarzan flung Cannon as easily as he had flung the panther. But not as gently. Cannon flew backward, high and hard, and hit his head against a tree trunk with the sound of rotten timber falling into a pond. He hit the tree and then the ground and didn't get up.

In the same instant, Wilson and Talent moved, came at the ape-man from two sides, drawing their pistols. They were fast. Real fast. But Tarzan was faster. His right leg shot out and kicked Talent in the stomach. As Talent bent forward, Tarzan slapped the .45 from his hand with the ease of a cobra striking a paralyzed rodent. Then Tarzan spun toward Wilson, dealing him a slap along the right side of his head, just behind the ear. It was a tremendous blow, dealt with the palm slightly cuffed; a technique Tarzan had learned in the Orient. It sent Wilson to his knees.

Talent had recovered enough to pull a knife from his boot, and now he came at Tarzan, thrusting. Tarzan sidestepped, caught the man's arm, swung under it, and pinned Talent in a hammerlock. He switched his grip and spun away from Talent, still holding the arm. Suddenly, Tarzan pulled it, as if the black man's arm was something he was about to toss over his shoulder. The move was so swift, sharp, and violent, that Talent's elbow snapped, the shoulder popped free, and his clavicle shattered. By the time Tarzan let go of him and turned to kick Wilson-who was trying to rise-full in the face with the ball of his foot. Talent was lying on the ground in a heap, his destroyed arm wriggling like a snake with a spear through it. Before the arm stopped its movements. Talent was dead of shock and Wilson was out from the kick to his face.

Tarzan turned to see Jad-bal-ja standing with both paws on Gromvitch's arms, pinning him to the ground. The terrified man lay trembling, looking up into Jad-bal-ja's snarling face, the lion's saliva dripped down on him.