LITMIR.BIZ

      John Caldwell, London

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      As Numa El Adrea launched himself with widespread paws and bared fangs he looked to find this puny man as easy prey as the score who had gone down beneath him in the past. To him man was a clumsy, slow-moving, defenseless creature—he had little respect for him.

      But this time he found that he was pitted against a creature as agile and as quick as himself. When his mighty frame struck the spot where the man had been he was no longer there.

      The watching girl was transfixed by astonishment at the ease with which the crouching man eluded the great paws. And now, O Allah! He had rushed in behind El Adrea’S shoulder even before the beast could turn, and had grasped him by the mane. The lion reared upon his hind legs like a horse—Tarzan had known that he would do this, and he was ready. A giant arm encircled the black-maned throat, and once, twice, a dozen times a sharp blade darted in and out of the bay-black side behind the left shoulder.

      Frantic were the leaps of Numa—awful his roars of rage and pain; but the giant upon his back could not be dislodged or brought within reach of fangs or talons in the brief interval of life that remained to the lord with the large head. He was quite dead when Tarzan of the Apes released his hold and arose. Then the daughter of the desert witnessed a thing that terrified her even more than had the presence of El Adrea. The man placed a foot upon the carcass of his kill, and, with his handsome face raised toward the full moon, gave voice to the most frightful cry that ever had smote upon her ears.

      With a little cry of fear she shrank away from him—she thought that the fearful strain of the encounter had driven him mad. As the last note of that fiendish challenge died out in the diminishing echoes of the distance the man dropped his eyes until they rested upon the girl.

      Instantly his face was lighted by the kindly smile that was ample assurance of his sanity, and the girl breathed freely once again, smiling in response.

      “What manner of man are you?” she asked. “The thing you have done is unheard of. Even now I cannot believe that it is possible for a lone man armed only with a knife to have fought hand to hand with El Adrea and conquered him, unscathed—to have conquered him at all. And that cry—it was not human. Why did you do that?”

      Tarzan flushed. “It is because I forget,” he said, “sometimes, that I am a civilized man. When I kill it must be that I am another creature.” He did not try to explain further, for it always seemed to him that a woman must look with loathing upon one who was yet so nearly a beast.

      Together they continued their journey. The sun was an hour high when they came out into the desert again beyond the mountains. Beside a little rivulet they found the girl’s horses grazing. They had come this far on their way home, and with the cause of their fear no longer present had stopped to feed.

      With little trouble Tarzan and the girl caught them, and, mounting, rode out into the desert toward the douar of Sheik Kadour ben Saden.

      No sign of pursuit developed, and they came in safety about nine o’clock to their destination. The sheik had but just returned. He was frantic with grief at the absence of his daughter, whom he thought had been again abducted by the marauders. With fifty men he was already mounted to go in search of her when the two rode into the douar.

      His joy at the safe return of his daughter was only equaled by his gratitude to Tarzan for bringing her safely to him through the dangers of the night, and his thankfulness that she had been in time to save the man who had once saved her.

      No honor that Kadour ben Saden could heap upon the ape-man in acknowledgment of his esteem and friendship was neglected. When the girl had recited the story of the slaying of El Adrea Tarzan was surrounded by a mob of worshiping Arabs—it was a sure road to their admiration and respect.

      The old sheik insisted that Tarzan remain indefinitely as his guest. He even wished to adopt him as a member of the tribe, and there was for some time a half-formed resolution in the ape-man’s mind to accept and remain forever with these wild people, whom he understood and who seemed to understand him. His friendship and liking for the girl were potent factors in urging him toward an affirmative decision.

      Had she been a man, he argued, he should not have hesitated, for it would have meant a friend after his own heart, with whom he could ride and hunt at will; but as it was they would be hedged by the conventionalities that are even more strictly observed by the wild nomads of the desert than by their more civilized brothers and sisters. And in a little while she would be married to one of these swarthy warriors, and there would be an end to their friendship. So he decided against the sheik’s proposal, though he remained a week as his guest.

      When he left, Kadour ben Saden and fifty white-robed warriors rode with him to Bou Saada. While they were mounting in the douar of Kadour ben Saden the morning of their departure, the girl came to bid farewell to Tarzan.

      “I have prayed that you would remain with us,” she said simply, as he leaned from his saddle to clasp her hand in farewell, “and now I shall pray that you will return.” There was an expression of wistfulness in her beautiful eyes, and a pathetic droop at the corners of her mouth. Tarzan was touched.

      “Who knows?” and then he turned and rode after the departing Arabs.

      Outside Bou Saada he bade Kadour ben Saden and his men good-by, for there were reasons which made him wish to make his entry into the town as secret as possible,

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