Tokar was going to be the King, with the help of the Hammer of the Gods! Note: very short.ExcerptDeep in the jungle the tribal drums were throbbing with savage passion, their pulsating rhythm carrying clearly to the ears of the gigantic, superbly muscled barbarian who moved in great strides along the tangled underpath.He was a handsome creature, this barbarian. Handsome as the panther is handsome, or the man-killing tiger. Strong features, cruelly chiseled, were beneath his mat of fierce hair. His body was hard and brown, clad in the skin of a jungle cat. And yet for all the strength and power of him, he moved through the twisted underbrush with the stealthy swiftness of an animal.Across his back, carried as carelessly as though it might be but a load of twig kindling, was the still bleeding carcass of a freshly slain boar. Food for the tribal feasting. The smell of the animal's blood, hot and sweet in his nostrils, made the barbarian grin in anticipation."Ayi,"" he thought with savage satisfaction, "I, Tokar, return to the tribal campfires with meat for the bellies of my people."And he grinned again in wolfish glee at the thought he had half- whispered in the murky twilight. For this very evening he, Tokar, The Mighty, would gain supremacy among his tribal fellows, would gain the honor of Tribal King. He, Tokar, would gain all this by overthrowing Orlo, the present tribal king.