Title: Tarzan and the city of gold
Author: Burroughs, Edgar Rice
Language: English
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                      TARZAN AND THE CITY OF GOLD

                         EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS

                            ACE BOOKS, INC.
                      1120 Avenue of the Americas
                           New York 36, N.Y.

            This Ace edition follows the text of the first
        hard-cover book edition, originally published in 1933.

      _Cover art and title-page illustration by Frank Frazetta._

                           Printed in U.S.A.



                      THE LURE OF HIGH ADVENTURE


When Tarzan ventured northward into the remote and trackless backlands
of ancient Abyssinia, it may have been only the lure of mystery that
drew him--or the secrets those unmapped valleys have guarded from time
immemorial.

It was in one such unknown valley that a strange white warrior in ivory
armor led Tarzan to the luxurious court of the most beautiful woman
in the world, to the arena and the lion pit, and to the intrigues and
perils of a forgotten barbarian kingdom.

If you are bored by the humdrum of the daily grind of civilization,
lay aside the badges of your servitude, don a loin cloth of lion skin,
seize bow and arrows and spear, and tread the silent trails of the
mysterious jungle toward high adventure with Tarzan of the Apes.


Edgar Rice Burroughs is renowned for his many novels of fantastic
adventure. Unquestionably his best known creation is that of the jungle
hero, Tarzan the Ape Man, but almost as well known are his stories of
other planets and of Pellucidar beneath the Earth's crust.

Born in Chicago in 1875, he tried his hand at many enterprises without
notable success, until at the age of thirty-five, he turned to writing.
With the publication of his first novels about Tarzan and Barsoomian
Mars, his career was assured. The gratitude of a multitude of readers
who found in his imagination exactly the kind of escape reading they
loved assured him of a well-earned fortune.

By the time of his death, in 1950, at his home in a town bearing the
name of his brain child, Tarzana, California, his name was a byword in
literature. Well over 40,000,000 copies of his books have appeared in
58 different languages. New printings of his famous classics are now
appearing regularly in Ace Books.



                                   I

                             SAVAGE QUARRY


Down out of Tigre and Amhara upon Gojam and Shoa and Kaffa come the
rains from June to September, carrying silt and prosperity from
Abyssinia to the eastern Sudan and to Egypt, bringing muddy trails and
swollen rivers and death and prosperity to Abyssinia.

Of these gifts of the rains, only the muddy trails and the swollen
rivers and death interested a little band of _shiftas_ that held out in
the remote fastnesses of the mountains of Kaffa. Hard men were these
mounted bandits, cruel criminals without even a vestige of culture
such as occasionally leavens the activities of rogues, lessening their
ruthlessness. Kaficho and Galla they were, the offscourings of their
tribes, outlaws, men with prices upon their heads.

It was not raining now; and the rainy season was drawing to a close,
for it was the middle of September; but there was still much water in
the rivers, and the ground was soft after a recent rain.

The _shiftas_ rode, seeking loot from wayfarer, caravan, or village;
and as they rode, the unshod hoofs of their horses left a plain spoor
that one might read upon the run; not that that caused the _shiftas_
any concern, because no one was looking for them. All that anyone in
the district wished of the _shiftas_ was to keep out of their way.

A short distance ahead of them, in the direction toward which they
were riding, a hunting beast stalked its prey. The wind was blowing
from it toward the approaching horsemen; and for this reason their
scent spoor was not borne to its sensitive nostrils, nor did the soft
ground give forth any sound beneath the feet of their walking mounts
that the keen ears of the hunter might detect during the period of
concentration and mild excitement attendant upon the stalk.

Though the stalker did not resemble a beast of prey, such as the term
connotes to the mind of man, he was one nevertheless; for in his
natural haunts he filled his belly by the chase and by the chase alone;
neither did he resemble the mental picture that one might hold of a
typical British lord, yet he was that too--he was Tarzan of the Apes.

All beasts of prey find hunting poor during a rain, and Tarzan was no
exception to the rule. It had rained for two days, and as a result
Tarzan was hungry. A small buck was drinking in a stream fringed by
bushes and tall reeds, and Tarzan was worming his way upon his belly
through short grass to reach a position from which he might either
charge or loose an arrow or cast a spear. He was not aware that a group
of horsemen had reined in upon a gentle rise a short distance behind
him where they sat in silence regarding him intently.

Usha, the wind, who carries scent, also carries sound. Today, Usha
carried both the scent and the sound of the _shiftas_ away from the
keen nostrils and ears of the ape-man. Perhaps, endowed as he was with
supersensitive perceptive faculties, Tarzan should have sensed the
presence of an enemy; but "Even the worthy Homer sometimes nods."

However self-sufficient an animal may be it is endowed with caution,
for there is none that has not its enemies. The weaker herbivora
must be always on the alert for the lion, the leopard, and man; the
elephant, the rhinoceros, and the lion may never relax their vigilance
against man; and man must always be on guard against these and
others. Yet one may not say that such caution connotes either fear or
cowardice; for Tarzan, who was without fear, was the personification of
caution, especially when he was far from his own stamping grounds as
he was today and every creature a potential enemy.

The combination of ravenous hunger with the opportunity to satisfy
it may have placed caution in abeyance as, oftentimes, a certain
recklessness born of pride in his might did; but, be that as it may,
the fact remains that Tarzan was wholly ignorant of the presence of
that little knot of villainous bandits who were quite prepared to kill
him, or anyone else, for a few poor weapons or for nothing at all.

The circumstances that brought Tarzan northward into Kaffa are not
a part of this story. Perhaps they were not urgent, for the Lord of
the Jungle loves to roam remote fastnesses still unspoiled by the
devastating hand of civilization and needs but trifling incentive
to do so. Still unsated with adventure, it may be that Abyssinia's
three hundred fifty thousand square miles of semi-savagery held an
irresistible lure for him in their suggestion of mysterious back
country and in the ethnological secrets they have guarded from time
immemorial.

Wanderer, adventurer, outcast, Greek phalanx, and Roman legion, all
have entered Abyssinia within times chronicled in history or legend
never to reappear; and it is even believed by some that she holds
the secret of the lost tribes of Israel. What wonders, then, what
adventures, might not her remote corners reveal!

At the moment, however, Tarzan's mind was not occupied by thoughts of
adventure; he did not know that it loomed threateningly behind him; his
concern and his interest were centered upon the buck which he intended
should satisfy the craving of his ravenous hunger. He crept cautiously
forward. Than he, not even Sheeta, the leopard, stalks more silently or
more stealthily.

From behind, the white-robed _shiftas_ moved from the little rise where
they had been watching him in silence, moved down toward him with spear
and long-barreled matchlock. They were puzzled. Never before had they
seen a white man like this one; but if curiosity were in their minds,
there was only murder in their hearts.

The buck raised his head occasionally to glance about him, wary,
suspicious; and when he did so, Tarzan froze into immobility. Suddenly
the animal's gaze centered for an instant upon something in the
direction of the ape-man; then it wheeled and bounded away. Instantly
Tarzan glanced behind him, for he knew that it had not been he who had
frightened his quarry but something beyond and behind him that the
alert eyes of Wappi had discovered; and that quick glance revealed a
half dozen horsemen moving slowly toward him, told him what they were,
and explained their purpose; for, knowing that they were _shiftas_, he
knew that they came only to rob and kill--knew that here were enemies
more ruthless than Numa.

When they saw that he had discovered them, the horsemen broke into a
gallop and bore down upon him, waving their weapons and shouting. They
did not fire, evidently holding in contempt this primitively armed
victim, but seemed to purpose riding him down and trampling him beneath
the hoofs of their horses or impaling him upon their spears. Perhaps
they thought that he would seek safety in flight, thereby giving them
the added thrill of the chase; and what quarry could give the hunter
greater thrills than man.

But Tarzan did not turn and run. He knew every possible avenue of
escape within the radius of his vision for every danger that might
reasonably be expected to confront him here, for it is the business of
the creatures of the wild to know these things if they are to survive,
and so he knew that there was no escape from mounted men by flight.
But this knowledge threw him into no panic. Could the requirements of
self-preservation have been best achieved by flight, he would have
fled; but as they could not, he adopted the alternative quite as a
matter of course--he stood to fight, ready to seize upon any fortuitous
circumstance that might offer a chance of escape.

Tall, magnificently proportioned, muscled more like Apollo than like
Hercules, garbed only in a narrow G string of lion skin with a lion's
tail depending before and behind, he presented a splendid figure of
primitive manhood that suggested more, perhaps, the demigod of the
forest than it did man. Across his back hung his quiver of arrows and a
light, short spear; the loose coils of his grass rope lay across one
bronzed shoulder; at his hip swung the hunting knife of his father, the
knife that had given the boy-Tarzan the first suggestion of his coming
supremacy over the other beasts of the jungle on that far gone day when
his youthful hand drove it into the heart of Bolgani, the gorilla; in
his left hand was his bow and between the fingers four extra arrows.

As Ara, the lightning, so is Tarzan for swiftness. The instant that he
had discovered and recognized the menace creeping upon him from behind
and known that he had been seen by the horsemen he had leaped to his
feet, and in the same instant strung his bow. Now, perhaps even before
the leading _shiftas_ realized the danger that confronted them, the bow
was bent, the shaft sped.

Short but powerful was the bow of the ape-man; short, that it might be
easily carried through the forest and the jungle; powerful, that it
might send its shafts through the toughest hide to a vital organ of its
prey. Such a bow was this that no ordinary man might bend it.

Straight through the heart of the leading _shifta_ drove the first
arrow, and as the fellow threw his arms above his head and lunged from
his saddle four more arrows sped with lightning-like rapidity from the
bow of the ape-man, and every arrow found a target. Another _shifta_
dropped to ride no more, and three were wounded.

Only seconds had elapsed since Tarzan had discovered his danger, and
already the four remaining horsemen were upon him. The three who
were wounded were more interested in the feathered shafts protruding
from their bodies than in the quarry they had expected so easily to
overcome; but the fourth was whole, and he thundered down upon the
ape-man with his spear set for the great bronzed chest.

There could be no retreat for Tarzan; there could be no side-stepping
to avoid the thrust, for a step to either side would have carried him
in front of one of the other horsemen. He had but a single slender hope
for survival, and that hope, forlorn though it appeared, he seized
upon with the celerity, strength, and agility that make Tarzan Tarzan.
Slipping his bowstring about his neck after his final shot, he struck
up the point of the menacing weapon of his antagonist, and grasping the
man's arm swung himself to the horse's back behind the rider.

As steel-thewed fingers closed upon the _shifta_'s throat he voiced
a single piercing scream; then a knife drove home beneath his left
shoulder blade, and Tarzan hurled the body from the saddle. The
terrified horse, running free with flying reins, tore through the
bushes and the reeds into the river, while the remaining _shiftas_,
disabled by their wounds, were glad to abandon the chase upon the bank,
though one of them, retaining more vitality than his companions, did
raise his matchlock and send a parting shot after the escaping quarry.

The river was a narrow, sluggish stream but deep in the channel; and as
the horse plunged into it, Tarzan saw a commotion in the water a few
yards downstream and then the outline of a long, sinuous body moving
swiftly toward them. It was Gimla, the crocodile. The horse saw it too
and, becoming frantic, turned upstream in an effort to escape. Tarzan
climbed over the high cantle of the Abyssinian saddle and unslung his
spear in the rather futile hope of holding the reptile at bay until his
mount could reach the safety of the opposite bank toward which he was
now attempting to guide him.

Gimla is as swift as he is voracious. He was already at the horse's
rump, with opened jaws, when the _shifta_ at the river's edge fired
wildly at the ape-man. It was well for Tarzan that the wounded man had
fired hurriedly; for simultaneously with the report of the firearm,
the crocodile dove; and the frenzied lashing of the water about him
evidenced the fact that he had been mortally wounded.

A moment later the horse that Tarzan rode reached the opposite bank and
clambered to the safety of dry land. Now he was under control again;
and the ape-man wheeled him about and sent a parting arrow across the
river toward the angry, cursing bandits upon the opposite side, an
arrow that found its mark in the thigh of the already wounded man who
had unwittingly rescued Tarzan from a serious situation with the shot
that had been intended to kill him.

To the accompaniment of a few wild and scattered shots, Tarzan of the
Apes galloped toward a nearby forest into which he disappeared from the
sight of the angry _shiftas_.



                                  II

                          THE WHITE PRISONER


Far to the south a lion rose from his kill and walked majestically to
the edge of a nearby river. He cast not so much as a single glance
at the circle of hyenas and jackals that had ringed him and his kill
waiting for him to depart and which had broken and retreated as he
rose. Nor, when the hyenas rushed in to tear at what he had left, did
he appear even to see them.

There were the pride and bearing of royalty in the mien of this mighty
beast; and to add to his impressiveness were his great size, his
yellow, almost golden, coat, and his great black mane. When he had
drunk his fill, he lifted his massive head and voiced a roar, as is the
habit of lions when they have fed and drunk; and the earth shook to his
thunderous voice, and a hush fell upon the jungle.

Now he should have sought his lair and slept, to go forth again at
night and kill; but he did not do so. He did not do at all what might
have been expected of a lion under similar circumstances. He raised his
head and sniffed the air, and then he put his nose to the ground and
moved to and fro like a hunting dog searching for a game scent. Finally
he halted and voiced a low roar; then, with head raised, he moved off
along a trail that led toward the north. The hyenas were glad to see
him go; so were the jackals, who wished that the hyenas would go also.
Ska, the vulture, circling above, wished that they would all leave.

At about the same time, many marches to the north, three angry, wounded
_shiftas_ viewed their dead comrades and cursed the fate that had led
them upon the trail of the strange white giant; then they stripped the
clothing and weapons from their dead fellows and rode away, loudly
vowing vengeance should they ever again come upon the author of their
discomfiture and secretly hoping that they never would. They hoped that
they were done with him, but they were not.

Shortly after he had entered the forest, Tarzan swung to an overhanging
branch beneath which his mount was passing and let the animal go its
way. The ape-man was angry; the _shiftas_ had frightened away his
dinner. That they had sought to kill him annoyed him far less than the
fact that they had spoiled his hunting. Now he must commence his search
for meat all over again, but when he had filled his belly he would look
into this matter of _shiftas_. Of this he was certain.

Tarzan had considered the gastronomic potentialities of the bandit's
horse, but had discarded the idea. On several occasions in the past he
had been forced to eat horse meat, but he had not liked it. Although he
was hungry, he was far from famished; and so he preferred to hunt again
until he found flesh more palatable, nor was it long before he had made
his kill and eaten.

Satisfied, he lay up for a while in the crotch of a tree, but not for
long. His active mind was considering the matter of the _shiftas_.
Here was something that should be looked into. If the band were on
the march, he need not concern himself about them; but if they were
permanently located in this district, that was a different matter;
for Tarzan expected to be here for some time; and it was well to know
the nature, the number, and the location of all enemies. Furthermore,
he felt that he could not let them escape without some additional
punishment for the inconvenience they had caused him.

Returning to the river, Tarzan crossed it and took up the plain trail
of the _shiftas_. It led him up and down across some low hills and then
down into the narrow valley of the stream that he had crossed farther
up. Here the floor of the valley was forested, the river winding
through the wood. Into this wood the trail led.

It was almost dark now; the brief equatorial twilight was rapidly
fading into night; the nocturnal life of the forest and the hills was
awakening; from down among the deepening shadows of the valley came the
coughing grunts of a hunting lion. Tarzan sniffed the warm air rising
from the valley toward the mountains; it carried with it the odors of a
camp and the scent spoor of man. He raised his head, and from his deep
chest rumbled a full-throated roar. Tarzan of the Apes was hunting too.

In the gathering shadows he stood then erect and silent, a lonely
figure standing in solitary grandeur upon that desolate hillside.
Swiftly the silent night enveloped him; his figure merged with the
darkness that made hill and valley, river and forest one. Not until
then did Tarzan move; then he stepped down on silent feet toward the
forest. Now was every sense alert, for now the great cats would be
hunting. Often his sensitive nostrils quivered as they searched the
air; no slightest sound escaped his keen ears.

As he advanced, the man scent became stronger, guiding his steps.
Nearer and nearer sounded the deep cough of the lion; but of Numa
Tarzan had little fear at present, knowing that the great cat, being up
wind, could not be aware of his presence. Doubtless Numa had heard the
ape-man's roar, but he could not know that its author was approaching
him.

Tarzan had estimated the lion's distance down the valley and the
distance that lay between himself and the forest and had guessed that
he would reach the trees before their paths crossed. He was not hunting
for Numa, the lion, and with the natural caution of the wild beast, he
would avoid an encounter. It was not food either that he hunted, for
his belly was full, but man, the archenemy of all created things.

It was difficult for Tarzan to think of himself as a man, and his
psychology was more often that of the wild beast than the human, nor
was he particularly proud of his species. While he appreciated the
intellectual superiority of man over other creatures, he harbored
contempt for him because he had wasted the greater part of his
inheritance. To Tarzan, as to many other created things, contentment
is the highest ultimate goal of achievement, and health and culture
the principal avenues along which man may approach this goal. With
scorn the ape-man viewed the overwhelming majority of mankind which
was wanting in either one essential or the other, when not wanting
in both. He saw the greed, the selfishness, the cowardice, and the
cruelty of man; and, in view of man's vaunted mentality, he knew that
these characteristics placed man upon a lower spiritual scale than the
beasts, while barring him eternally from the goal of contentment.

So now, as he sought the lair of the man-things, it was not in the
spirit of one who seeks his own kind but of a beast which reconnoiters
the position of an enemy. The mingled odors of a camp grew stronger in
his nostrils, the scents of horses and men and food and smoke. To you
or to me, alone in a savage wilderness, engulfed in darkness, cognizant
of the near approach of a hunting lion, these odors would have been
most welcome; but Tarzan's reaction to them was that of the wild beast
that knows man only as an enemy--his snarling muscles tensed as he
smothered a low growl.

As Tarzan reached the edge of the forest the lion was but a short
distance to his right and approaching; so the ape-man took to the
trees, through which he swung silently toward the camp of the
_shiftas_. Numa heard him then and roared, and the men in the camp
threw more wood upon the beast fire.

To a tree overlooking the camp, Tarzan made his way. Below him he saw
a band of some twenty men with their horses and equipment. A rude boma
of branches and brush had been erected about the camp site as a partial
protection against wild beasts, but more dependence was evidently
placed upon the fire which they kept burning in the center of the camp.

In a single quick glance the ape-man took in the details of the scene
below him, and then his eyes came to rest upon the only one that
aroused either interest or curiosity, a white man who lay securely
bound a short distance from the fire.

Ordinarily, Tarzan was no more concerned by the fate of a white man
than by that of a black man or any other created thing to which he was
not bound by ties of friendship; the life of a man meant less to Tarzan
of the Apes than the life of an ape. But in this instance there were
two factors that made the life of the captive a matter of interest
to the lord of the jungle. First, and probably predominant, was his
desire to be further avenged upon the _shiftas_ for their wanton attack
upon him, which had frightened away his intended kill; the second was
curiosity, for the white man that lay bound below him was different
from any that he had seen before, at least in so far as his apparel was
concerned.

His only garment appeared to be a habergeon made up of ivory discs that
partially overlay one another, unless certain ankle, wrist, neck, and
head ornaments might have been considered to possess such utilitarian
properties as to entitle them to a similar classification. Except for
these, his arms and legs were naked. His head rested upon the ground
with the face turned away from Tarzan so that the ape-man could not see
his features but only that his hair was heavy and black.

As he watched the camp, seeking for some suggestion as to how he might
most annoy or inconvenience the bandits, it occurred to Tarzan that a
just reprisal would consist in taking from them something that they
wanted, just as they had deprived him of the buck he had desired.
Evidently they wished the prisoner very much or they would not have
gone to the trouble of securing him so carefully; so this fact decided
Tarzan to steal the white man from them. Perhaps curiosity also had a
considerable part in inducing this decision, for the strange apparel
of the prisoner had aroused within the ape-man a desire to know more
concerning him.

To accomplish his design, he decided to wait until the camp slept;
and settling himself comfortably in a crotch of the tree, he prepared
to keep his vigil with the tireless patience of the hunting beast
he was. As he watched, he saw several of the _shiftas_ attempting
to communicate with their prisoner; but it was evident that neither
understood the other.

Tarzan was familiar with the language spoken by the Kafichos and
Gallas, and the questions that they put to their prisoner aroused his
curiosity still further. There was one question that they asked him
in many different ways, in several dialects, and in signs which the
captive either did not understand or pretended not to. Tarzan was
inclined to believe that the latter was true, for the sign language was
such that it could scarcely be misunderstood. They were asking him the
way to a place where there was much ivory and gold, but they got no
information from him.

"The pig understands us well enough," growled one of the _shiftas_; "he
is just pretending that he does not."

"If he won't tell us, what is the use of carrying him around with us
and feeding him?" demanded another. "We might as well kill him now."

"We will let him think it over tonight," replied one who was evidently
the leader, "and if he still refuses to speak in the morning, we will
kill him then."

This decision they attempted to transmit to the prisoner both by words
and signs, and then they squatted about the fire and discussed the
occurrences of the day and their plans for the future. The principal
topic of their conversation was the strange white giant who had slain
three of their number and escaped upon one of their horses; and after
this had been debated thoroughly and in detail for some time, and the
three survivors of the encounter had boasted severally of their deeds
of valor, they withdrew to the rude shelters they had constructed and
left the night to Tarzan, Numa, and a single sentry.

The silent watcher among the shadows of the tree waited on in patience
until the camp should be sunk in deepest slumber and, waiting, planned
the stroke that was to rob the _shiftas_ of their prey and satisfy his
own desire for revenge. As he patiently bided his time, there came
strongly to his nostrils the scent spoor of Numa, the lion; and he
guessed that the carnivore, attracted by the presence of the horses,
was coming to investigate the camp. That he would enter it, he doubted,
for the sentry was keeping the fire blazing brightly; and Numa seldom
dares the fearful mystery of flames unless goaded by extreme hunger.

At last the ape-man felt that the time had come when he might translate
his plan into action; all but the sentry were wrapped in slumber, and
even he was dozing beside the fire. As noiselessly as the shadow of a
shadow Tarzan descended from the tree, keeping well in the shadow cast
by the beast fire.

For a moment he stood in silence, listening. He heard the breathing of
Numa in the darkness beyond the circle of firelight, and knew that the
king of beasts was near and watching. Then he looked from behind the
great bole of the tree and saw that the sentry's back was still turned
toward him. Silently he moved into the open; stealthily, on soundless
feet, he crept toward the unsuspecting bandit. He saw the matchlock
across the fellow's knees; and for it he had respect, as have all
jungle animals that have been hunted.

Closer and closer he came to his prey. At last he crouched directly
behind him. There must be no noise, no outcry. Tarzan waited. Beyond
the rim of fire waited Numa, expectant, for he saw that very gradually
the flames were diminishing. A bronzed hand shot quickly forward,
fingers of steel gripped the brown throat of the sentry almost at the
instant that a knife was driven from below his left shoulder blade into
his heart. The sentry was dead without knowing that death threatened
him, a merciful ending.

Tarzan withdrew the knife from the limp body and wiped the blade upon
the once white robe of his victim; then he moved softly toward the
prisoner who was lying in the open. For him, they had not bothered to
build a shelter. As he made his way toward the man, Tarzan passed close
to two of the shelters in which lay members of the band; but he made
no noise that might awaken them. When he approached the captive more
closely, he saw in the diminishing light of the fire that the man's
eyes were open and that he was regarding Tarzan with level, though
questioning, gaze. The ape-man put a finger to his lips to enjoin
silence, and then he came and knelt beside the man and cut the thongs
that secured his wrists and ankles; then he helped him to his feet, for
the thongs had been drawn tightly, and his legs were numb.

For a moment he waited while the stranger tested his feet and moved
them rapidly in an effort to restore circulation; then he beckoned him
to follow, and all would have been well but for Numa, the lion. At this
moment, either to voice his anger against the flames or to terrify the
horses into a stampede, he elected to voice a thunderous roar.

So close was the lion that the sudden shattering of the deep silence
of the night startled every sleeper to wakefulness. A dozen men seized
their matchlocks and leaped from their shelters. In the waning light of
the fire they saw no lion; but they saw their liberated captive, and
they saw Tarzan of the Apes standing beside him.

Among those who ran from the shelters was the least seriously wounded
of Tarzan's victims of the afternoon. Instantly recognizing the bronzed
white giant, he shouted loudly to his companions, "It is he! It is the
white demon who killed our friends today."

"Kill him!" screamed another.

"Kill them both!" cried the leader of the _shiftas_.

Completely surrounding the two white men, the _shiftas_ advanced upon
them; but they dared not fire because of fear that they might wound
one of their own comrades. Nor could Tarzan loose an arrow nor cast a
spear, for he had left all his weapons except his rope and his knife
hidden in the tree above the camp that he might move with the utmost
freedom and in silence while seeking to liberate the captive.

One of the bandits, more courageous, probably because less intelligent,
than his fellows, rushed to close quarters with musket clubbed. It was
his undoing. The man-beast crouched, growling; and, as the other was
almost upon him, charged. The musket butt, hurtling through the air to
strike him down, he dodged; and then he seized the weapon and wrenched
it from the _shifta_'s grasp as though it had been a toy in a child's
hands.

Tossing the matchlock at the feet of his companion, Tarzan laid
hold upon the rash Galla, spun him around, and held him as a shield
against the weapons of his fellows. But despite this reverse the other
_shiftas_ gave no indication of giving up the battle. They saw before
them two men practically defenseless, and now with redoubled shouts
they pushed closer.

Two of them rushed in behind the ape-man, for it was he they feared the
more; but they were to learn that their former prisoner might not be
considered lightly. He had picked up the musket that Tarzan had cast
aside and, grasping it close to the muzzle, was using it as a club.
The heavy butt struck the foremost bandit heavily upon the side of the
head, dropping him like a felled ox; and as it swung again, the second
bandit leaped back barely in time to avoid a similar fate.

A quick backward glance assured Tarzan that his companion was proving
himself a worthy ally, but it was evident that they could not hope to
hold out long against the superior numbers pitted against them. Their
only hope, he believed, lay in making a sudden, concerted rush through
the thin line of foemen surrounding them, and he sought to convey his
plan to the man standing back to back with him; but though he spoke to
him in English and in the several continental languages with which the
ape-man was familiar the only reply he received was in a language that
he himself had never before heard.

What was he to do? They must go together, and both must understand
the purpose animating Tarzan. But how was that possible if they could
not communicate with one another? Tarzan turned and touched the other
lightly on the shoulder; then he jerked his thumb in the direction he
intended going and beckoned with a nod of his head.

Instantly the man nodded his understanding and wheeled about as Tarzan
started to charge, still bearing the struggling _shifta_ in his grasp;
but the _shiftas_ were determined not to let these two escape; and
while they could not fire for fear of killing their comrade, they
stood their ground with clubbed muskets and with spears; so that the
outcome looked dark indeed for the lord of the jungle and his companion.

Using the man in his grasp as a flail, Tarzan sought to mow down those
standing between him and liberty; but there were many of them, and
presently they succeeded in dragging their comrade from the clutches
of the ape-man. Now it seemed that the situation of the two whites was
hopeless, for there was no longer anything to prevent the bandits using
their matchlocks to advantage. The _shiftas_ were in such a transport
of rage that nothing less than the extermination of these two foes
would satisfy them; but Tarzan and the other pressed on so closely that
the muskets were useless against them for the moment; though presently
some of the _shiftas_ withdrew a little to one side where they might
have free use of their weapons.

One fellow in particular was well placed to fire without endangering
any of his fellows, and raising his matchlock to his shoulder he took
careful aim at Tarzan.



                                  III

                             CATS BY NIGHT


As the man raised his weapon to his shoulder to fire at Tarzan, a
scream of warning burst from the lips of one of his comrades, to be
drowned by the throaty roar of Numa, the lion, as the swift rush of his
charge carried him over the boma into the midst of the camp.

The man who would have killed Tarzan cast a quick backward glance as
the warning cry apprised him of his danger; and when he saw the lion he
cast away his rifle in his excitement and terror, his terrified scream
mingled with the voice of Numa, and in his anxiety to escape the fangs
of the man-eater he rushed into the arms of the ape-man.

The lion, momentarily confused by the firelight and the swift movement
and the shouts of the men, paused, crouching, as he looked to right and
left. In that brief instant Tarzan seized the fleeing _shifta_, lifted
him high above his head, and hurled him into the face of Numa; then,
as the lion seized its prey and its great jaws closed upon the head
and shoulder of the hapless bandit, he motioned to his companion to
follow him, and, running directly past the lion, leaped the boma at the
very point that Numa had leaped it. Close at his heels was the white
captive of the _shiftas_, and before the bandits had recovered from the
first shock and surprise of the lion's unexpected charge the two had
disappeared in the shadows of the night.

Just outside the camp Tarzan left his companion for a moment while he
swung into the tree where he had left his weapons and recovered them;
then he led the way out of the valley up into the hills. At his elbow
trotted the silent white man he had rescued from certain death at the
hands of the Kaficho and Galla bandits.

During the brief encounter in the camp Tarzan had noted with admiration
the strength, agility, and courage of the stranger who had aroused both
his interest and his curiosity. Here, seemingly, was a man moulded
to the dimensions of Tarzan's own standards, a quiet, resourceful,
courageous fighting man. Radiating that intangible aura which we call
personality, even in his silences he impressed the ape-man with a
conviction that loyalty and dependability were innate characteristics
of the man; so Tarzan, who ordinarily preferred to be alone, was not
displeased to have the companionship of this stranger.

The moon, almost full, had risen above the black mountain mass to
the east, shedding her soft light on hill and valley and forest,
transforming the scene once more into that of a new world which was
different from the world of daylight and from the world of moonless
night, a world of strange greys and silvery greens.

Up toward a fringe of forest that clothed the upper slopes of the
foothills and dipped down into canyon and ravine the two men moved as
noiselessly as the passing shadow of a cloud, yet to one hidden in the
dark recesses of the wood above, their approach was not unheralded,
for on the breath of Usha, the wind, it was borne ahead of them to the
cunning nostrils of the prince of hunters.

Sheeta, the panther, was hungry. For several days prey had been scarce
and elusive. Now, in his nostrils, the scent of the man-things grew
stronger as they drew nearer. It was the pure scent of man that came
to him unvitiated by the hated odor of the flame-belching thunderstick
that he feared and hated. Eagerly, Sheeta, the panther, awaited the
coming of the men.

Within the forest, Tarzan sought a tree where they might lie up for the
night. He had eaten and was not hungry. Whether or not his companion
had eaten was his own concern. This was a law of the jungle from which
Tarzan might deviate for a weak or wounded companion but not for a
strong man able to provide for himself. Had he killed, he would have
shared his kill; but he would not go forth and hunt for another.

Tarzan found a branch that forked horizontally. With his hunting knife
he cut other branches and laid them across the two arms of the Y thus
formed. Over this rude platform he spread leaves; and then he lay down
to sleep, while from an adjacent tree up wind Sheeta watched him.
Sheeta also watched the other man-thing on the ground between the two
trees. The great cat did not move; he seemed scarcely to breathe. Even
Tarzan was unaware of his presence, yet the ape-man was restless. A
sense so delicate that he was not objectively aware of its existence
seemed to warn him that all was not well. He listened intently and
sniffed the air but detected nothing amiss. Below him, his companion
was making his bed upon the ground in preference to risking the
high-flung branches of the trees to which he was unaccustomed. It was
the man upon the ground that Sheeta watched.

At last, his bed of leaves and grasses arranged to suit him, Tarzan's
companion lay down. Sheeta waited. Gradually, almost imperceptibly,
the sinuous muscles were drawing the hind quarters forward beneath
the sleek body in preparation for the spring. Sheeta edged forward on
the great limb upon which he crouched, but in doing so he caused the
branch to move slightly and the leaves at its end to rustle just a
little. Your ears or mine would not have been conscious of any noise,
but the ears of Tarzan are not as are yours or mine.

He heard; and his eyes, turning quickly, sought and found the intruder.
At the same instant Sheeta launched himself at the man lying on his
rude pallet on the ground below; and as Sheeta sprang so did Tarzan.
What happened happened very quickly; it was a matter of seconds only.

As the two beasts sprang, Tarzan voiced a roar that was intended both
to warn his companion and to distract the attention of Sheeta from his
prey. The man upon the ground leaped quickly to one side, prompted more
by an instinctive reaction than by reason. The panther's body brushed
him as it struck the ground, but the beast's thoughts were now upon the
thing that had voiced that menacing roar rather than upon its intended
prey.

Wheeling as he leaped aside, the man turned and saw the savage
carnivore just as Tarzan landed full upon the beast's back. He heard
the mingled growls of the two as they closed in battle, and his scalp
stiffened as he realized that the sounds coming from the lips of his
companion were quite as bestial as those issuing from the throat of the
carnivore.

Tarzan sought a hold about the neck of the panther, while the great cat
instantly attempted to roll over on its back that it might rip the body
of its antagonist to shreds with the terrible talons that armed its
hind feet. But this strategy the ape-man had anticipated; and rolling
beneath Sheeta as Sheeta rolled, he locked his powerful legs beneath
the belly of the panther; then the great cat leaped to its feet again
and sought to shake the man-thing from its back; and all the while a
mighty arm was tightening about its neck, closing off its wind.

With frantic leaps and bounds the panther hurled itself about in the
moonlight while Tarzan's companion stood unarmed and helpless. Twice
he had tried to run in and assist the ape-man, but both times the two
bodies had struck him and sent him spinning across the ground. Now he
saw a new factor being injected into the battle; Tarzan had succeeded
in drawing his knife. Momentarily the blade flashed before his eyes;
then it was buried in the body of Sheeta. The cat, screaming from pain
and rage, redoubled its efforts to dislodge the creature clinging to it
in the embrace of death; but again the knife fell.

Now Sheeta stood trembling upon uncertain feet as once again the
knife was plunged deeply into his side; then, his great voice forever
stilled, he sank lifeless to the ground as the ape-man rolled from
beneath him and sprang to his feet.

The man whose life Tarzan had saved came forward and laid a hand upon
the shoulder of the ape-man, speaking a few words in a low voice but
in a tongue that Tarzan did not understand though he guessed that it
expressed the gratitude that the manner of the man betokened.

What thoughts were in the mind of Tarzan's companion? Twice within an
hour this strange white man had saved him from death. For what reasons,
the man could not guess. That sentiments of friendship and loyalty were
aroused in his breast would seem only natural if he possessed either
honor or gratitude, but of this we can have no knowledge until we know
him better. As yet he is not even a name to us; and, following the
policy of Tarzan, we shall not judge him until we know him better; then
we may learn to like him, or we may have reason to despise him.

Influenced by the attack of the panther and knowing that Numa was
abroad, Tarzan, by signs, persuaded the man to come up into the tree;
and here the ape-man helped him construct a nest similar to his own.
For the balance of the night they slept in peace, and the sun was an
hour old before either stirred the following morning; then the ape-man
rose and stretched himself.

Nearby, the other man sat up and looked about him. His eyes met
Tarzan's, and he smiled and nodded. For the first time the ape-man had
an opportunity to examine his new acquaintance by daylight. The man
had removed his single garment for the night, covering himself with
leaves and branches. Now as he arose, his only garment was a G string,
and Tarzan saw six feet of well-muscled, well-proportioned body topped
by a head that seemed to bespeak breeding and intelligence. The man's
features were strong, clear cut and harmoniously placed; the face was
more noticeable for strength and rugged masculinity than for beauty.

The wild beast in Tarzan looked into the brown eyes of the stranger
and was satisfied that here was one who might be trusted; the man in
him noted the headband that confined the black hair, saw the strangely
wrought ivory ornament in the center of the forehead, the habergeon
that he was now donning, the ivory ornaments on wrists and ankles, and
found his curiosity piqued.

The ivory ornament in the center of the headband was shaped like a
concave, curved trowel, the point of which projected above the top of
the man's head and curved forward. His wristlets and anklets were of
long flat strips of ivory laid close together and fastened around the
limbs by leather thongs that were laced through holes piercing the
strips near their tops and bottoms. His sandals were of heavy leather,
apparently elephant hide, and were supported by leather thongs fastened
to the bottoms of his anklets.

On each arm below the shoulder he wore an ivory disc upon which was
carved a design; about his neck was a band of smaller ivory discs
elaborately carved, and from the lowest of these a strap ran down to
his habergeon, which was also supported by shoulder straps. Depending
from each side of his headband was another ivory disc of large size,
above which was a smaller disc. The larger discs covered his ears.
Heavy, curved, wedge-shaped pieces of ivory were held, one upon each
shoulder, by the same straps that supported his habergeon.

That all these trappings were solely for purposes of ornamentation
Tarzan did not believe. He saw that almost without exception they
would serve as a protection against a cutting weapon such as a sword
or battle-ax; and he could not but wonder where the stalwart warrior
who wore them had had his genesis, for nowhere in the world, so far as
Tarzan knew, was there a race of men wearing armor and ornaments such
as these.

But speculation concerning this matter was relegated to the background
of his thoughts by hunger and recollection of the remains of
yesterday's kill that he had hung high in a tree of the forest farther
up the river; so he dropped lightly to the ground, motioning the young
warrior to follow him; and set off in the direction of his cache,
keeping his keen senses always on the alert for enemies.

Cleverly hidden by leafy branches, the meat was intact when Tarzan
reached it. He cut several strips and tossed them down to the warrior
waiting on the ground below; then he cut some for himself and crouching
in a crotch proceeded to eat it raw. His companion watched him for a
moment in surprise; then he made fire with a bit of steel and flint and
cooked his own portion.

As he ate, Tarzan's active mind was considering plans for the future.
He had come to Abyssinia for a specific purpose, though the matter was
not of such immediate importance that it demanded instant attention.
In fact, in the philosophy that a lifetime of primitive environment
had inspired, time was not an important consideration. The phenomenon
of this ivory-armored warrior aroused questions that intrigued his
interest to a far greater extent than did the problems that had
brought him thus far from his own stamping grounds, and he decided
that the latter should wait the solving of the riddle of this seeming
anachronism that his new-made acquaintance presented.

Having no other means of communication than signs rendered an exchange
of ideas between the two difficult, but when they had finished their
meal and Tarzan had descended to the ground he succeeded in asking his
companion in what direction he wished to go. The warrior pointed in a
northeasterly direction toward the high mountains; and, as plainly as
he could through the medium of signs, invited Tarzan to accompany him
to his country. This invitation Tarzan accepted and motioned the other
to lead the way.

For days that stretched to weeks the two men struck deeper and deeper
into the heart of a stupendous mountain system. Always mentally alert
and eager to learn, Tarzan took advantage of the opportunity provided
by time and propinquity to learn the language of his companion, and he
proved such an apt pupil that they were soon able to make themselves
understood to one another.

Among the first things that Tarzan learned was that his companion's
name was Valthor, while Valthor took the earliest opportunity to evince
an interest in the ape-man's weapons; and as he was unarmed, Tarzan
spent a day in making a spear and bow and arrows for him. Thereafter,
as Valthor taught the lord of the jungle to speak his language, Tarzan
instructed the former in the use of the bow, the spear being already a
familiar weapon to the young warrior.

Thus the days and the weeks passed and the two seemed no nearer the
country of Valthor than when they had started from the vicinity of the
camp of the _shiftas_. Tarzan found game of certain varieties plentiful
in the mountains, and it was he who kept their larder supplied. The
impressive scenery that was marked by rugged grandeur held the interest
of the ape-man undiminished. He hunted, and he enjoyed the beauties of
unspoiled nature, practically oblivious of the passage of time.

But Valthor was less patient; and at last, late one day when they found
themselves at the head of a blind canyon where stupendous cliffs barred
further progress, he admitted defeat. "I am lost," he said simply.

"That," remarked Tarzan, "I could have told you many days ago."

Valthor looked at him in surprise. "How could you know that," he
demanded, "when you yourself do not know in what direction my country
lies?"

"I know," replied the ape-man, "because during the past week you have
led the way toward the four points of the compass, and today we are
within five miles of where we were a week ago. Across this ridge at
our right, not more than five miles away, is the little stream where I
killed the ibex and the gnarled old tree in which we slept that night
just seven suns ago."

Valthor scratched his head in perplexity, and then he smiled. "I cannot
dispute you," he admitted. "Perhaps you are right, but what are we
going to do?"

"Do you know in what direction your country lies from the camp in which
I found you?" asked Tarzan.

"Thenar is due east of that point," replied Valthor; "of that I am
positive."

"Then we are directly southwest of it now, for we have travelled a
considerable distance toward the south since we entered the higher
mountains. If your country lies in these mountains then it should not
be difficult to find it if we can keep moving always in a northeasterly
direction."

"This jumble of mountains with their twisting canyons and gorges
confuses me," Valthor admitted. "You see, in all my life before I have
never been farther from Thenar than the valley of Onthar, and both
these valleys are surrounded by landmarks with which I am so familiar
that I need no other guides. It has never been necessary for me to
consult the positions of the sun, the moon, nor the stars before;
and so they have been of no help to me since we set out in search
of Thenar. Do you believe that you could hold a course toward the
northeast in this maze of mountains? If you can, then you had better
lead the way rather than I."

"I can go toward the northeast," Tarzan assured him, "but I cannot find
your country unless it lies in my path."

"If we reach a point within fifty or a hundred miles of it, from some
high eminence we shall see Xarator," explained Valthor; "and then I
shall know my way to Thenar, for Xarator is almost due west of Athne."

"What are Xarator and Athne?" demanded Tarzan.

"Xarator is a great peak the center of which is filled with fire and
molten rock. It lies at the north end of the valley of Onthar and
belongs to the men of Cathne, the city of gold. Athne, the city of
ivory, is the city from which I come. The men of Cathne, in the valley
of Onthar, are the enemies of my people."

"Tomorrow, then," said Tarzan, "we shall set out for the city of Athne
in the valley of Thenar."

As Tarzan and Valthor ate meat that they had cut from yesterday's kill
and carried with them, many weary miles to the south a black-maned lion
lashed his tail angrily and voiced a savage growl as he stood over the
body of a buffalo calf he had killed and faced an angry bull pawing the
earth and bellowing a few yards away.

Rare is the beast that will face Gorgo, the buffalo, when rage inflames
his red-rimmed eyes; but the great lion showed no intention of leaving
its prey even in the face of the bull's threatened charge. He stood
his ground. The roars of the lion and the bull mingled in a savage,
thunderous dissonance that shook the ground, stilling the voices of the
lesser people of the jungle.

Gorgo gored the earth, working himself into a frenzy of rage. Behind
him, bellowing, stood the mother of the slain calf. Perhaps she was
urging her lord and master to avenge the murder. The other members of
the herd had bolted into the thickest of the jungle leaving these two
to contest with Numa his right to his kill, leaving vengeance to those
powerful horns backed by that massive neck.

With a celerity and agility that belied his great weight, the bull
charged. That two such huge beasts could move so quickly and so lightly
seemed incredible, as it seemed incredible that any creature could
either withstand or avoid the menace of those mighty horns; but the
lion was ready, and as the bull was almost upon him, he leaped to one
side, reared upon his hind feet and with one massive, taloned paw
struck the bull a terrific blow on the side of its head that wheeled
it half around and sent it stumbling to its knees, half stunned and
bleeding, its great jawbone crushed and splintered. And before Gorgo
could regain his feet, Numa leaped full upon his back, buried his teeth
in the bulging muscles of the great neck, and with one paw reached for
the nose of the bellowing bull, jerking the head back with a mighty
surge that snapped the vertebrae.

Instantly the lion was on his feet again facing the cow, but she did
not charge. Instead, bellowing, she crashed away into the jungle
leaving the king of beasts standing with his forefeet upon his latest
kill.

That night Numa fed well; but when he had gorged himself he did not
lie up as a lion should, but continued toward the north along the
mysterious trail he had been following for many days.



                                  IV

                            DOWN THE FLOOD


The new day dawned cloudy and threatening. The season of rains was
over, but it appeared that a belated storm was gathering above the
lofty peaks through which Tarzan and Valthor were searching for the
elusive valley of Thenar. The chill of night was dissipated by no
kindly warmth of sunlight. The two men shivered as they rose from their
rude beds among the branches of a tree.

"We shall eat later," announced Tarzan, "after a little climbing has
put warmth into our blood."

"If we are lucky enough to find anything to eat," rejoined Valthor.

"Tarzan seldom goes hungry," replied the ape-man. "He will not go
hungry today. When Tarzan is ready to hunt, we shall eat."

Down the box canyon they went until Tarzan found a place where they
might ascend the precipitous side wall; then they toiled upward, the
warrior from Athne confident that each step would be his last as he
clung to the steep face of the canyon wall but too proud to reveal his
fear to the agile ape-man climbing so easily above him. But he did not
fall, and at last the two stood upon the summit of a mighty ridge that
led upward toward lofty peaks.

Valthor's heart was pounding and he was breathing heavily, but Tarzan
showed no sign of exertion. He was about to continue on up the ridge,
when he glanced at his companion and saw his condition; then he
squatted on the ground with a laconic "Rest now"; and Valthor was glad
to rest.

All day they moved toward the northeast. Sometimes it rained a little,
and always it threatened to rain more. A great storm seemed always to
be gathering, yet it never broke during the long day. Tarzan made a
kill before noon, and they ate; but immediately afterward they started
on again. The cold, damp, sunless air offered them no incentive for
tarrying on the way.

It was late in the afternoon when they ascended out of a deep gorge and
stood upon a lofty plateau. In the near foreground were no mountains,
but at a distance lofty peaks were visible dimly through a light
drizzle of rain. Suddenly Valthor voiced an exclamation of elation. "We
have found it!" he cried. "There is Xarator."

Tarzan looked in the direction that the other pointed and saw a mighty,
flat-topped peak in the distance, directly above which low clouds were
reflecting a dull red light. "So that is Xarator!" he remarked. "And
Thenar is directly east of it?"

"Yes," replied Valthor; "which means that Onthar must be just below the
edge of this plateau, almost directly in front of us. Come!"

The two walked quickly over the level, grassy ground for a mile or two
to come at length to the edge of the plateau beyond which, and below
them, stretched a wide valley.

"We are almost at the southern end of Onthar," said Valthor. "There is
Cathne, the city of gold. See it--in the bend of the river at this end
of that forest? It is a rich city but its people are the enemies of my
people."

Through the rain, Tarzan saw a walled city between a forest and a
river. The houses were nearly all white, and there were many domes
of dull yellow. The river, which ran between them and the city, was
spanned by a bridge that was also a dull yellow color in the twilight
of the late afternoon storm. Tarzan saw that the river extended the
full length of the valley, a distance of fourteen or fifteen miles,
being fed by smaller streams coming down out of the mountains.
Also extending the length of the valley was what appeared to be a
well-marked road. Near the center of the valley it branched, one fork
following an affluent of the main stream with which it disappeared into
the mouth of a canyon on the eastern side of the valley. Directly below
them and extending to the northern extremity of Onthar was a level
plain dotted with trees; across the river, a forest stretched from the
farther bank to the steep hills that bounded Onthar on the east and
southeast.

Tarzan's eyes wandered back to the city of Cathne. "Why do you call it
the city of gold?" he asked.

"Do you not see the golden domes and the bridge of gold?" demanded
Valthor.

"Are they covered with gold paint?" inquired Tarzan.

"They are covered with solid gold," replied Valthor. "The gold on some
of the domes is an inch thick, and the bridge is built of solid blocks
of gold."

Tarzan lifted his eyebrows. As he looked down upon this seemingly
deserted and peaceful valley he could not but conjure another
picture--a picture of what it would be if word of these vast riches
were carried to the outside world, bringing the kindly beneficences of
modern civilization and civilized men to Onthar. How the valley would
hum and roar then with the sweet music of mill and factory! What a
gorgeous spectacle would be painted against the African sky by tall
chimneys spouting black smoke to hang like a sable curtain above the
golden domes of Cathne!

"Where do they find their gold?" he asked.

"Their mines lie in the hills directly south of the city," replied
Valthor.

"And where is your country, Thenar?" asked the ape-man.

"Just beyond the hills east of Onthar. Do you see where the river and
the road cut through the forest about five miles above the city? You
can see them entering the hills just beyond the forest."

"Yes," replied Tarzan; "I see."

"The road and the river run through the Pass of the Warriors into the
valley of Thenar; a little northeast of the center of the valley lies
Athne, the city of ivory; there, beyond the pass, is my country."

"How far are we from Athne?" inquired Tarzan.

"About twenty-five miles, possibly a little less," replied Valthor.

"We might as well start now, then," suggested the ape-man, "for in
this rain it will be more comfortable to be on the march than to lie
up until morning; and in your city we can find a dry place to sleep I
presume."

"Certainly," replied Valthor, "but it will not be safe to attempt to
cross Onthar by daylight. We should certainly be seen by the sentries
on the gates of Cathne, and as these people are our enemies the chances
are that we should never cross the valley without being either killed
or taken prisoners. It will be bad enough at night on account of the
lions, but by day it will be infinitely worse as we shall have both men
and lions to contend with."

"What lions?" demanded Tarzan.

"The men of Cathne breed lions, and there are many at large in the
valley," explained Valthor. "That great plain that you see below us,
stretching the full length of the valley on this side of the river, is
called the Field of the Lions. We shall be safer if we cross it after
dark."

"Whatever you wish," agreed Tarzan with a shrug; "it is all the same to
me if we start now or wait until dark."

"It is not very comfortable here," remarked the Athnean. "The rain is
cold."

"I have been uncomfortable before," replied Tarzan; "rains do not last
forever."

"If we were in Athne we should be very comfortable," sighed Valthor.
"In my father's house there are fireplaces; even now the flames are
roaring about great logs, and all is warmth and comfort."

"Above the clouds the sun is shining," replied Tarzan, "but we are not
above the clouds; we are here where the sun is not shining and there is
no fire, and we are cold." A faint smile touched his lips. "It does not
warm me to speak of fires or the sun."

"Nevertheless, I wish I were in Athne," insisted Valthor. "It is a
splendid city, and Thenar is a lovely valley. In Thenar we raise goats
and sheep and elephants. In Thenar there are no lions except those
that stray in from Onthar; those we kill. Our farmers raise vegetables
and fruits and hay; our artizans manufacture leather goods; they make
cloth from the hair of goats and the wool of sheep; our carvers work in
ivory and wood.

"We trade a little with the outside world, paying for what we buy with
ivory and gold. Were it not for the Cathneans we should lead a happy,
peaceful life without a care."

"What do you buy from the outside world, and of whom do you buy it?"
asked Tarzan.

"We buy salt, of which we have none of our own," explained Valthor.
"We also buy steel for our weapons and black slaves and occasionally
a white woman, if she be young and pretty. These things we buy from a
band of _shiftas_. With this same band we have traded since before the
memory of man. _Shifta_ chiefs and kings of Athne have come and gone,
but our relations with this band have never altered. I was searching
for them when I became lost and was captured by another band."

"Do you never trade with the people of Cathne?" asked the ape-man.

"Once each year there is a week's truce during which we trade with them
in peace. They give us gold and foodstuffs and hay in exchange for
the women, the salt, and the steel we buy from the _shiftas_, and the
cloth, leather, and ivory that we produce.

"Besides mining gold, the Cathneans breed lions for war and sport,
raise fruits, vegetables, cereals, and hay and work in gold and, to a
lesser extent, in ivory. Their gold and their hay are the products most
valuable to us; and of these we value the hay more, for without it we
should have to decrease our elephant herds."

"Why should two peoples so dependent upon one another fight?" asked
Tarzan.

Valthor shrugged. "I do not know; perhaps it is just a custom. Yet,
though we talk much of wanting peace, we should miss the thrills and
excitement that peace does not hold." His eyes brightened. "The raids!"
he exclaimed. "There is a sport for men! The Cathneans come with their
lions to hunt our goats, our sheep, our elephants, and us. They take
heads for trophies, and above all they value the head of man. They try
to take our women, and when they succeed then there is war, if the
family of the woman seized be of sufficient importance.

"When we wish sport we go into Onthar after gold and women or just for
the sport of killing men or capturing slaves. The greatest game of all
is to sell a woman to a Cathnean for much gold and then take her away
from him in a raid. No, I do not think that either we or the Cathneans
would care for peace."

As Valthor talked, an invisible sun sank lower into the west; heavy
clouds, dark and ominous, hid the peaks to the north, settling low over
the upper end of the valley. "I think we may start now," he said; "it
will soon be dark."

Downward through a gully, the sides of which hid them from the city of
Cathne, the two men made their way toward the floor of the valley. From
the heavy storm clouds burst a flash of lightning followed by the roar
of thunder; upon the upper end of the valley the storm god loosed his
wrath; water fell in a deluge of masses wiping from their sight the
hills beyond the storm.

By the time they reached level ground the storm was upon them and the
gully they had descended a raging mountain torrent. The swift night
had fallen; utter darkness surrounded them, darkness frequently broken
by vivid flashes of lightning. The pealing of the constant thunder was
deafening. The rain engulfed them in solid sheets like the waves of the
ocean. It was, perhaps, the most terrific storm that either of these
men had ever seen.

They could not converse; only the lightning prevented their becoming
separated, as it alone permitted Valthor to keep his course across the
grassy floor of the valley in the direction of the city of gold where
they would find the road that led to the Pass of the Warriors and on
into the valley of Thenar.

Presently they came within sight of the lights of the city, a few dim
lights framed by the casements of windows; and a moment later they
were on the road and were moving northward against the full fury of
the storm. And such a storm! As they moved toward its center it grew
in intensity; against the wind that accompanied it they waged a grim
battle that was sometimes to them and sometimes to the wind, for often
it stopped them in their tracks and forced them back.

For miles they pitted their muscles against the Herculean strength of
the storm god; and the rage of the storm god seemed to rise against
them, knowing no bounds, as though he was furious that these two puny
mortals should pit their strength against his. Suddenly, as though in a
last titanic effort to overcome them, the lightning burst into a mighty
blaze that illuminated the entire valley for seconds, the thunder
crashed as it had never crashed before, and a mass of water fell that
crushed the two men to earth.

As they staggered to their feet again foot-deep water swirled about
their legs; they stood in a broad, racing torrent that rushed past
them toward the river; but in that last effort the storm god had spent
his force. The rain ceased; through a rift in the dark clouds the moon
looked down, perhaps in wonder, upon a drowned world; and Valthor led
the way again toward the Pass of the Warriors. The last storm of the
rainy season was over.

It is seven miles from the Bridge of Gold, that is the gateway to
the city of Cathne, to the ford where the road to Thenar crosses the
river; and it required three hours for Valthor and Tarzan to cover the
distance, two hours for the first third and one hour for the remainder;
but at last they stood at the river's brink.

A boiling flood confronted them, tearing down a widened river toward
the city of Cathne. Valthor hesitated. "Ordinarily," he said to Tarzan,
"the water is little more than a foot deep. It must be three feet deep
now."

"And it will soon be deeper," commented the ape-man. "Only a small
portion of the storm waters have had time to reach this point from the
hills and the upper valley. If we are going to cross tonight, we shall
have to do it now."

"Very well," replied Valthor, "but follow me; I know the ford."

As the Athnean stepped into the water the clouds closed again beneath
the moon and plunged the world once more into darkness. As Tarzan
followed he could scarcely see his guide ahead of him; and as Valthor
knew the ford he moved more rapidly than the ape-man with the result
that presently Tarzan could not see him at all, but he felt his way
toward the opposite bank without thought of disaster.

The force of the stream was mighty; but mighty, too, are the thews of
Tarzan of the Apes. The water, which Valthor had thought to be three
feet in depth, was soon surging to the ape-man's waist, and then he
missed the ford and stepped into a hole. Instantly the current seized
him and swept him away; not even the giant muscles of Tarzan could cope
with the might of the flood.

The lord of the jungle fought the swirling waters in an effort to reach
the opposite shore, but in their embrace he was powerless. Was the
storm god proud or resentful to see one of his children succeed where
he had failed? That is a difficult question to answer, for gods are
strange creatures; they give to those who have and take from those who
have not; they punish whom they love and are jealous and resentful; in
which they resemble the creatures who conceived them.

Finding even his great strength powerless and weakening, Tarzan gave
up the struggle to reach the opposite bank and devoted his efforts to
keeping his nose above the surface of the angry flood. Even this was
none too easy of accomplishment, as the rushing waters had a trick of
twisting him about or turning him over. Often his head was submerged,
and sometimes he floated feet first and sometimes head first; but he
tried to rest his muscles as best he could against the time when some
vagary of the torrent might carry him within reach of the bank upon one
side or the other.

He knew that several miles below the city of Cathne the river entered
a narrow gorge, for that he had seen from the edge of the plateau from
which he had first viewed the valley of Onthar; and Valthor had told
him that beyond the gorge it tumbled in a mighty falls a hundred feet
to the bottom of a rocky canyon. Should he not succeed in escaping the
clutches of the torrent before it carried him into the gorge his doom
was sealed, but Tarzan felt neither fear nor panic. His life had been
in jeopardy often during his savage existence, yet he still lived.

He wondered what had become of Valthor. Perhaps he, too, was being
hurtled along either above or below him. But such was not the fact.
Valthor had reached the opposite bank in safety and waited there for
Tarzan. When the ape-man did not appear within a reasonable time, the
Athnean shouted his name aloud; but though he received no answer he was
still not sure that Tarzan was not upon the opposite side of the river,
the loud roaring of which might have drowned the sound of the voice of
either.

Then Valthor decided to wait until daylight, rather than abandon his
friend in a country with which he was entirely unfamiliar. That the
Athnean remained bespoke his loyalty as well as the high esteem in
which he held the ape-man, for the dangers that might beset Tarzan in
Onthar would prove even a greater menace to Valthor, an hereditary
enemy of the Cathneans.

Through the long night he waited and, with the coming of dawn, eagerly
scanned the opposite bank of the river, his slender hope for the safety
of his friend dying when daylight failed to reveal any sign of him.
Then, at last, he was convinced that Tarzan had been swept away to his
death by the raging flood; and, with a heavy heart, he turned away from
the river and resumed his interrupted journey toward the Pass of the
Warriors and the Valley of Thenar.



                                   V

                           THE CITY OF GOLD


As Tarzan battled for his life in the swirling waters of the swollen
river he lost all sense of time; the seemingly interminable struggle
against death might have been enduring without beginning, might endure
without end, in so far as his numbed senses were concerned. His efforts
to delay the apparently inevitable end were now purely mechanical,
instinctive reactions to the threat against self-preservation. The
cold water had sapped the vitality of his mind as well as of his body,
yet, while his heart beat, neither would admit defeat; subconsciously,
without active volition, they sought to preserve him. It was well that
they did.

Turnings in the river cast him occasionally against one shore and then
the other. Always, then, his hands reached up in an attempt to grasp
something that might stay his mad rush toward the falls and death; and
at last success crowned their efforts--his fingers closed upon the stem
of a heavy vine that trailed down the bank into the swirling waters,
closed and held.

Instantly, almost miraculously, new life seemed to be instilled into
the veins of the ape-man by the feel of that stout support in his
grasp. Quickly he seized it with both hands; the river clutched at his
body and tried to drag it onward toward its doom; but the vine held,
and so did Tarzan.

Hand over hand the man dragged himself out of the water and onto the
bank, where he lay for several minutes; then he rose slowly to his
feet, shook himself like some great lion, and looked about him in the
darkness, trying to penetrate the impenetrable night. Faintly, as
through shrubbery, he thought that he saw a light shining dimly in the
distance. Where there was a light, there should be men. Tarzan moved
cautiously forward to investigate.

He knew that he had crossed the river but that he was a long distance
from the point at which he had entered it. He wondered what had become
of Valthor; and determined, after he had investigated the light, to
start up the river in search of him; even though he feared that his
companion had been swept away by the flood, as he had.

But a few steps from the river Tarzan encountered a wall, and when
he was close to the wall he could no longer see the light. Reaching
upward, he discovered that the top of the wall was still above the tips
of his outstretched fingers; but walls which were made to keep one out
also invited one to climb them. The ape-man, filled with the curiosity
of the beast, desired now more than ever to investigate the light he
had seen.

Stepping back a few paces, he ran toward the wall and sprang upward.
His extended fingers gripped the top of the wall and clung there.
Slowly he drew himself up, threw a leg across the capstones, and looked
to see what might be seen upon the opposite side of the wall.

He did not see much; a square of dim light forty or fifty feet away;
that was all, and it did not satisfy his curiosity. Silently he lowered
himself to the ground upon the same side as the light and moved
cautiously forward. Beneath his bare feet he felt stone flagging, and
guessed that he was in a paved courtyard.

He had crossed about half the distance to the light when the retreating
storm flashed a farewell bolt from the distance. This distant lightning
but barely sufficed to momentarily relieve the darkness surrounding the
ape-man, revealing a low building, a lighted window, a deeply recessed
doorway in the shelter of which stood a man. It also revealed Tarzan to
the man in the doorway.

Instantly the silence was shattered by the brazen clatter of a gong.
The door swung open, and men bearing torches rushed out. Tarzan,
impelled by the natural caution of the beast, turned to run; but as he
did so, he saw other open doors upon his flanks; and armed men with
torches were rushing from these as well.

Realizing that flight was useless, Tarzan stood still with folded
arms as the men converged upon him from three directions. Perhaps his
insatiate curiosity prompted him to await quietly the coming of the
men as much as a realization of the futility of flight. Tarzan wanted
to see what the men were like and what they would do. He knew that
he must be in the city of gold, and his imagination was inflamed. If
they threatened him he could still fight; if they imprisoned him, he
could escape; so, at least thought Tarzan, whose self-confidence was in
proportion to his great size and his giant strength.

The torches carried by some of the men showed Tarzan that he was in a
paved, quadrangular courtyard enclosed by buildings upon three sides
and the wall he had scaled upon the fourth. Their light also revealed
the fact that he was being surrounded by some fifty men armed with
spears, the points of which were directed toward him in a menacing
circle.

"Who are you?" demanded one of the men as the cordon drew tightly about
him. The language in which the man spoke was the same as that which
Tarzan had learned from Valthor, the common language of the enemy
cities of Athne and Cathne.

"I am a stranger from a country far to the south," replied the ape-man.

"What are you doing inside the walls of the palace of Nemone?" The
speaker's voice was threatening, his tone accusatory. Tarzan sensed
that the presence of a stranger here was a crime in itself; but this
made the situation all the more interesting; while the name, Nemone,
possessed a quality that fired his interest.

"I was crossing the river far above here when the flood caught me and
swept me down; it was only by chance that I finally made a landing
here."

The man who had been questioning him shrugged. "Well," he admitted, "it
is not for me to question you anyway. Come! You will have a chance to
tell your story to an officer; but he will not believe it either."

As the men conducted Tarzan toward one of the buildings, he thought
that they seemed more curious than hostile. It was evident, however,
that they were only common warriors without responsibility and that he
might find the attitude of the officer class entirely different.

They conducted him into a large, low-ceilinged room which was furnished
with rough benches and tables; upon the walls hung weapons, spears
and swords; and there were shields of elephant hide studded with gold
bosses. But there were other things in this strange room that compelled
the interest of the ape-man far more than did the weapons and the
shields; upon the walls were mounted the heads of animals; there were
the heads of sheep and goats and lions and elephants. Among these,
sinister and forbidding, were the scowling heads of men. The sight of
them reminded Tarzan of the stories Valthor had told him of these men
of Cathne.

Two men guarded Tarzan in one corner of the room, while another was
dispatched to notify a superior of the capture; the remainder loafed
about the room, talking, playing games, cleaning their weapons. The
prisoner took the opportunity to examine his captors.

They were well set up men, many of them not ill-favored, though for the
most part of ignorant and brutal appearance. Their helmets, habergeons,
wristlets, and anklets were of elephant hide heavily embossed with gold
studs. Long hair from the manes of lions fringed the tops of their
anklets and wristlets and was also used for ornamental purposes along
the crests of their helmets and upon some of their shields and weapons.
The elephant hide that composed their habergeons was cut into discs,
and the habergeon fabricated in a manner similar to that one of ivory
which Valthor had worn. In the center of each shield was a heavy boss
of solid gold. Upon the harnesses and weapons of these common soldiers
was a fortune in the precious metal.

While Tarzan, immobile, silent, surveyed the scene with eyes that
seemed scarcely to move yet missed no detail, two warriors entered the
room; and the instant that they crossed the threshold silence fell upon
the men congregated in the chamber; and Tarzan knew by that these were
officers, though their trappings would have been sufficient evidence
of their superior stations in life.

Habergeons and helmets, wristlets and anklets were all of gold and
ivory, as were the hilts and scabbards of their short, dagger-like
swords. The two presented a gorgeous picture against the background
of the grim room and the relatively somber trappings of the common
soldiers.

At a word of command from one of the two, the common warriors fell
back, clearing one end of the room; then the two seated themselves at a
table and ordered Tarzan's guards to bring him forward. As the lord of
the jungle halted before them both men surveyed him critically.

"Why are you in Onthar?" demanded one who was evidently the superior,
since he propounded all the questions during the interview.

Tarzan answered this and other questions as he had answered similar
ones at the time of his capture, but he sensed from the attitudes of
the two officers that neither was impressed with the truth of his
statements. They seemed to have preconceived a conviction concerning
him that nothing which he might say could alter.

"He does not look much like an Athnean," remarked the younger man.

"That proves nothing," snapped the other. "Naked men look like naked
men. He might pass for your own cousin were he garbed as you are
garbed."

"Perhaps you are right, but why is he here? A man does not come alone
from Thenar to raid in Onthar. Unless--" he hesitated; "unless he was
sent to assassinate the Queen!"

"I had thought of that," said the older man. "Because of what happened
to the last Athnean prisoners we took, the Athneans are very angry with
the Queen. Yes, they might easily attempt to assassinate her."

"For what other reason would a stranger enter the palace grounds? He
would know that he must die if he were caught."

"Of course, and this man expected to die; but he intended killing the
Queen first. He was willing to martyr himself for Athne."

Tarzan was almost amused as he contemplated the ease with which these
two convinced themselves that what they wanted to believe true, was
true; but he realized that this form of one-sided trial might prove
disastrous to him if his fate were to be decided by such a tribunal and
so he was prompted to speak.

"I have never been in Athne," he said quietly. "I am from a country
far to the south. An accident brought me here. I am not an enemy.
I have not come to kill your Queen or any other. Until today I did
not know that your city existed." This was a long speech for Tarzan
of the Apes. He was almost positive that it would not influence his
captors, yet there was a chance that they might believe him. He wished
to remain among these people until his curiosity concerning them had
been satisfied, and he felt that he might only do this by winning their
confidence; if they imprisoned him, he would see nothing while he was
in prison; and when he got out of prison, he would see but little more;
as he would then be concerned only with the business of escape.

Men are peculiar, and none knew this better than Tarzan, who, because
he had seen rather less of men than of beasts, had been inclined to
study those whom he had seen. Now he was studying the two men who were
questioning him. The elder he judged to be a man accustomed to the
exercise of great power; cunning, ruthless, cruel. Tarzan did not like
him. His was the instinctive appraisal of the wild beast.

The younger man was of an entirely different mold. He was intelligent
rather than cunning; his countenance bespoke a frank and open nature.
The ape-man judged that he was both honest and courageous. It was
true that he had agreed with all that the elder man had said, almost
in contradiction of his own original statement that Tarzan did not
resemble an Athnean; but in that the ape-man saw confirmation of his
belief in the younger man's intelligence. Only a fool contradicts his
superior for no good purpose.

While he was certain that the younger man had little authority,
compared with that exercised by his superior, yet Tarzan thought
best to address him rather than the other because he thought that he
might win an ally in the younger man and was sure that he could never
influence the elder unless it was very much to the latter's interests
to be influenced. And so, when he spoke again, he spoke to the younger
of the two officers.

"Are these men of Athne like me?" he asked.

For an instant the officer hesitated; then he said, quite frankly, "No;
they are not like you. You are unlike any man that I have seen."

"Are their weapons like my weapons?" continued the ape-man. "There are
mine over in the corner of the room; your men took them away from me.
Look at them."

Even the elder officer seemed interested. "Bring them here," he ordered
one of the warriors.

The man brought them and laid them on the table before the two
officers; the spear, the bow, the quiver of arrows, the grass rope,
and the knife. The two men picked them up one by one and examined them
carefully. Both seemed interested.

"Are they like the weapons of the Athneans?" demanded Tarzan. Of course
he knew that they were not, but he thought it best not to acquaint
these men with the fact that he had been consorting with one of their
enemies.

"They are nothing like them," admitted the younger man. "What do
you suppose this thing is for, Tomos?" he asked his companion as he
examined Tarzan's bow.

"It may be a snare of some sort," replied Tomos; "probably for small
animals--it would be useless against anything large."

"Let me take it," suggested Tarzan, "and I will show you how it is
used."

The younger man handed the bow to the ape-man.

"Be careful, Gemnon," cautioned Tomos; "this may be a trick, a
subterfuge by which he hopes to get possession of a weapon with which
to kill us."

"He cannot kill us with that thing," replied Gemnon. "Let's see how he
uses it. Go ahead--Let's see, what did you say your name is?"

"Tarzan," replied the lord of the jungle, "Tarzan of the Apes."

"Well, go ahead, Tarzan; but see that you don't attempt to attack any
of us."

Tarzan stepped to the table and took an arrow from his quiver; then he
glanced about the room. On the wall at the far end a lion's head with
open mouth hung near the ceiling. With what appeared but a single swift
motion he fitted the arrow to the bow, drew the feathered shaft to his
shoulder, and released it.

Every eye in the room had been upon him, for the common warriors had
been interested spectators of what had been transpiring; every eye
saw the shaft quivering now where it protruded from the center of the
lion's mouth; and an involuntary exclamation broke from every throat,
an exclamation in which were mingled surprise and applause.

"Take the thing away from him, Gemnon," snapped Tomos, "It is not a
safe weapon in the hands of an enemy."

Tarzan tossed the bow to the table. "Do the Athneans use this weapon?"
he asked.

Gemnon shook his head, "We know no men who use such a weapon," he
replied.

"Then you must know that I am no Athnean," stated Tarzan, looking
squarely at Tomos.

"It makes no difference where you are from," snapped Tomos; "you are an
enemy."

The ape-man shrugged but remained silent. He had accomplished all that
he had hoped for. He was sure that he had convinced them both that he
was not an Athnean and had aroused the interest of the younger man,
Gemnon. Something might come of this; though just what, he did not know
himself.

Gemnon had leaned close to Tomos and was whispering in the latter's
ear, evidently urging some action upon him. Tarzan could not hear what
he was saying. The elder man listened impatiently; it was clear that he
was not in accord with the suggestions of his junior.

"No," he said when the other had finished. "I will not permit anything
of the sort. The life of the Queen is too sacred to risk by permitting
this fellow any freedom. We shall lock him up for the night, and
tomorrow decide what shall be done with him." He turned to a warrior
who seemed to be an under-officer. "Take this fellow to the strong
house," he said, "and see that he does not escape." Then he rose and
strode from the room, followed by his younger companion.

When they had gone, the man in whose charge Tarzan had been left picked
up the bow and examined it. "What do you call this thing?" he demanded.

"A bow," replied the ape-man.

"And these?"

"Arrows."

"Will they kill a man?"

"With them I have killed men and lions and buffaloes and elephants,"
replied Tarzan. "Would you like to learn how to use them?" Perhaps,
he thought, a little kindly feeling in the guardroom might be helpful
to him later on. Just at present he was not thinking of escape; these
people and the city of gold were far too interesting to leave until he
had seen more of them.

The man fingering the bow hesitated. Tarzan guessed that he wished to
try his hand with the weapon but feared to delay carrying out the order
of his officer.

"It will take but a moment," suggested Tarzan. "See, let me show you."

Half reluctantly the man handed him the bow and Tarzan selected another
arrow.

"Hold them like this," he directed and placed the bow and arrow
correctly in the other's hands. "Tell your men to stand aside; you may
not shoot accurately at first. Aim at the lion's head, as I did. Now
draw the bowstring back as far as you can."

The man, of stocky, powerful build, tugged at the bowstring; but the
bow that Tarzan bent so easily he could scarcely bend at all. When he
released the arrow it flew but a few feet and dropped to the floor.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"It requires practice," the ape-man told him.

"There is a trick to it," insisted the under-officer. "Let me see you
do it again."

The other warriors, watching with manifest interest, whispered among
themselves or commented openly. "It takes a strong man to bend that
stick," said one.

"Althides is a strong man," retorted another.

"But he is not strong enough."

Althides, the under-officer, watched intently while Tarzan strung the
bow again and bent it; he saw how easily the stranger flexed the heavy
wood, and he marvelled. The other men looked on in open admiration, and
this time a shout of approval arose as Tarzan's second arrow crowded
the first in the mouth of the lion. When the symbols of high authority
are absent men can be human.

Althides scratched his head. "I shall have to lock you up now," he
said, "or old Tomos will have my head on the wall of his palace; but I
shall practice with this strange weapon until I learn to use it. Are
you sure that there is no trick in bending that thing you call a bow?"

"There is no trick to it," Tarzan assured him. "Make yourself a lighter
bow and you will find it easier, or bring me the material and I will
make one for you."

"That I will do," exclaimed Althides. "Come now and be locked up."

A guard accompanied Tarzan across the courtyard to another building
where he was placed in a room which, in the light of the torches borne
by his escort, he saw had another occupant; then they left him locking
the heavy door behind them; and Tarzan heard their footsteps dying away
across the courtyard as they took themselves and their torches off,
leaving him in darkness.

He could not see his companion, but he could hear his breathing. He
wondered with whom fate had cast him in this remote dungeon of the city
of gold.



                                  VI

                     THE MAN WHO STEPPED ON A GOD


Now that the torches were gone the room was very dark, but Tarzan lost
no time in starting to investigate his prison. First he groped his way
to the door, which he found to be constructed of solid planking with a
small, square hole cut in it about the height of his eyes. There was no
sign of lock or latch upon the inside and no way of ascertaining how it
was secured from the outside.

Leaving the door, Tarzan moved slowly along the walls, feeling
carefully over the stone surface. He knew that the other occupant of
the cell was sitting on a bench in one corner at the far end. He could
still hear him breathing. As he examined the room Tarzan approached
closer and closer to his fellow prisoner.

In the rear wall the ape-man discovered a window. It was small and high
set. The night was so dark that he could not tell whether it opened
onto the outdoors or into another apartment of the building. As an
avenue of escape the window appeared quite useless, as it was much too
small to accommodate the body of a man.

As Tarzan was examining the window he was close to the corner where the
other man sat, and now he heard a movement there. He also noticed that
the fellow's breathing had increased in rapidity, as though he were
nervous or excited. At last a voice sounded through the darkness.

"What are you doing?" it demanded.

"Examining the cell," replied Tarzan.

"It will do you no good, if you are looking for a way to escape," said
the voice. "You won't get out of here until they take you out, no more
than I shall."

Tarzan made no reply. There seemed nothing to say; and Tarzan seldom
speaks, even when others might find much to say. He went on with his
examination of the room. Passing the other occupant, he felt along the
fourth and last wall; but his search revealed nothing to repay the
effort. He was in a small, rectangular cell of stone that was furnished
with a long bench at one end and had a door and a window letting into
it.

Tarzan walked to the far end of the room and sat down upon the bench.
He was cold, wet, and hungry; but he was unafraid. He was thinking
of all that had transpired since night had fallen and left him to
the mercy of the storm; he wondered what the morrow held for him. It
occurred to him that perhaps he had made a mistake in not attempting a
break for liberty before his captors had succeeded in locking him in a
cell from which there seemed little likelihood that he could escape at
all, for in common with all animals he loathed captivity. However, here
he was, locked up securely; and there seemed nothing to do but make
the best of it. Some day they would take him out or unlock his cell
door; then, unless he had learned that their intentions toward him were
prompted by friendliness, he would take advantage of any opportunity
that might be offered to escape.

Presently the man in the corner of the cell addressed him. "Who are
you?" he asked. "When they brought you in I saw by the light of the
torches that you are neither a Cathnean nor an Athnean." The man's
voice was coarse, his tones gruff; he demanded rather than requested.
This did not please Tarzan, so he did not reply. "What's the matter?"
growled his fellow prisoner. "Are you dumb?" His voice was raised
angrily.

"Nor deaf," replied the ape-man. "You do not have to shout at me."

The other was silent for a short time; then he spoke in an altered
tone. "We may be locked in this hole together for a long time," he
said. "We might as well be friends."

"As you will," replied Tarzan, his involuntary shrug passing unnoticed
in the darkness of the cell.

"My name is Phobeg," said the man; "what is yours?"

"Tarzan," replied the ape-man.

"Are you either Cathnean or Athnean?"

"Neither; I am from a country far to the south."

"You would be better off had you stayed there," offered Phobeg. "How
do you happen to be here in Cathne?"

"I was lost," explained the ape-man, who had no intention of telling
the entire truth and thus identifying himself as a friend of one of the
Cathneans' enemies. "I was caught in the flood and carried down the
river to your city. Here they captured me and accused me of coming to
assassinate your Queen."

"So they think you came to assassinate Nemone! Well, whether you did
come for that purpose or not will make no difference."

"What do you mean?" demanded Tarzan.

"I mean that in any event you will be killed in one way or another,"
explained Phobeg, "whatever way will best amuse Nemone."

"Nemone is your Queen?" inquired the ape-man indifferently.

"By the mane of god, she is all that and more!" exclaimed Phobeg
fervently. "Such a Queen there never has been in Onthar or Thenar
before nor ever will be again. By the teeth of the great one! She makes
them all stand around, the priests, the captains, and the councillors."

"But why should she have me destroyed who am only a stranger that
became lost?"

"We keep no white men prisoners, only blacks as slaves. Now, were you a
woman you would not be killed; and were you a very good-looking woman
(not too good-looking, however) you would be assured a life of ease
and luxury. But you are only a man; so you will be killed to furnish a
pleasurable break in the monotony of Nemone's life."

"And what would happen to a too good-looking woman?" asked Tarzan.

"Enough, if Nemone saw her," replied Phobeg meaningly. "To be more
beautiful than the Queen is equivalent to high treason in the
estimation of Nemone. Why, men hide their wives and daughters if they
think that they are too beautiful; but there are few who would risk
hiding an alien prisoner.

"I know a man who has a very ugly wife," continued Phobeg, "who never
comes out of her house in daytime. She tells her neighbors that her
husband keeps her hidden for fear Nemone will see her. Then there was
another who was too beautiful. Her husband tried to keep her hidden
from Nemone, but one day the Queen saw her and ordered her nose and
ears cut off. Yes, I am glad that I am an ugly man rather than a
beautiful woman."

"Is the Queen beautiful?" asked Tarzan.

"Yes, by the claws of the all-high, she is the most beautiful woman in
the world."

"Knowing her policy, as you have explained it," remarked the ape-man,
"I can readily believe that she may be the most beautiful woman in
Cathne and quite sure of remaining so as long as she lives and is
Queen."

"Do not mistake me," said Phobeg; "Nemone is beautiful; but," and he
lowered his voice to a whisper, "she is a she-Satan. Even I who have
served her faithfully may not look to her for mercy."

"What did you do to get here?" inquired the ape-man.

"I accidentally stepped on god's tail," replied Phobeg gloomily.

The man's strange oaths had not gone unnoticed by Tarzan, and now this
latest remarkable reference to deity astounded him; but contact with
strange peoples had taught him to learn certain things concerning
them by observation and experience rather than by direct questioning,
matters of religion being chief among these; so now he only commented,
"And therefore you are being punished."

"Not yet," replied Phobeg. "The form of my punishment has not yet been
decided. If Nemone has other amusements I may escape punishment, or I
may come through my trial successfully and be freed; but the chances
are all against me, for Nemone seldom has sufficient bloody amusement
to sate her.

"Of course, if she leaves the decision of my guilt or innocence to
the chances of an encounter with a single man I shall doubtless be
successful in proving the latter, for I am very strong; and there is
no better sword- or spear-man in Cathne; but I should have less chance
against a lion, while, faced by the eternal fires of frowning Xarator,
all men are guilty."

Although the man spoke the language Valthor had taught the ape-man and
he understood the words, the meaning of what he said was as Greek to
Tarzan. He could not quite grasp what the amusements of the Queen had
to do with the administration of justice even though the inferences to
be derived from Phobeg's remarks seemed apparent; the conclusion was
too sinister to be entertained by the noble mind of the lord of the
jungle.

He was still considering the subject and wondering about the eternal
fires of frowning Xarator when sleep overcame his physical discomforts
and merged his speculations with his dreams; and to the south another
jungle beast crouched in the shelter of a rocky ledge while the storm
that had betrayed Tarzan to new enemies wasted its waning wrath and
passed on into the nothingness that is the sepulcher of storms; then as
the new day dawned bright and clear he arose and stepped out into the
sunlight, the great lion that we have seen before, the great lion with
the golden coat and the black mane.

He sniffed the morning air and stretched, yawning. His sinuous tail
twitched nervously as he looked about over the vast domain that was his
because he was there, as every wilderness is the domain of the king of
beasts while his majesty is in residence.

From the slight elevation upon which he stood, his yellow-green eyes
surveyed a broad plain, tree dotted. There was game there in plenty:
wildebeest, zebra, giraffe, koodoo, and hartebeest; and the king was
hungry, for the rain had prevented his making a kill the previous
night. He blinked his yellow-green eyes in the new sunlight and strode
majestically down toward the plain and his breakfast, as, many miles to
the north, a black slave accompanied by two warriors brought breakfast
to another lord of the jungle in a prison cell at Cathne.

At the sound of footsteps approaching his prison Tarzan awoke and arose
from the cold stone floor where he had been sleeping. Phobeg sat upon
the edge of the wooden bench and watched the door.

"They bring us food or death," he said; "one never knows."

The ape-man made no reply. He stood there waiting until the door swung
open and the slave entered with the food in a rough earthen bowl and
water in a glazed jug; he looked at the two warriors standing in the
open doorway and at the sunlit courtyard beyond them. What was passing
in that savage mind? Perhaps the warriors would have been less at ease
could they have known, but the ape-man made no move. Curiosity kept him
prisoner there quite as much as armed men or sturdy door, and now he
only looked beyond the two warriors who were eyeing him intently. They
had not been on duty the night before and had not seen him, but they
had heard of him. His feat with his strange weapon had been told them
by their fellows.

"So this is the wild man!" exclaimed one.

"You had better be careful, Phobeg," said the other. "I should hate to
be locked up in a cell with a wild man;" then, laughing at his joke, he
slammed the door after the slave had come out; and the three went away.

Phobeg was appraising Tarzan with a new eye; his nakedness took on a
new meaning in the light of that descriptive term, wild man. Phobeg
noted the great height of his cell-mate, the expanse of his chest,
and his narrow hips; but he greatly underestimated the strength of
the symmetrical muscles that flowed so smoothly beneath the bronzed
hide; then he glanced at his own gnarled and knotted muscles and was
satisfied.

"So you are a wild man!" he demanded. "How wild are you?"

Tarzan turned slowly toward the speaker. He thought that he recognized
thinly veiled sarcasm in the tone of Phobeg's voice. For the first time
he saw his companion in the light of day. He saw a man a few inches
shorter than himself but of mighty build, a man of great girth and
bulging muscles, a man who might outweigh the lord of the jungle by
fifty pounds. He noted his prominent jaw, his receding forehead, and
his small eyes. In silence Tarzan regarded Phobeg.

"Why don't you answer?" demanded the Cathnean.

"Do not be a fool," admonished Tarzan. "I recall that last night you
said that as we might be confined here for a long time we might as well
be friends. We cannot be friends by insulting one another. Food is
here. Let us eat."

Phobeg grunted and inserted one of his big paws into the pot the slave
had brought. As there was no knife or fork or spoon, Tarzan had no
alternative but to do likewise if he wished to eat; and so he too took
food from the pot with his fingers. The food was meat; it was tough and
stringy and undercooked; had it been raw Tarzan had been better suited.

Phobeg chewed assiduously upon a mouthful of the meat until he had
reduced the fibers to a pulp that would pass down his throat. "An old
lion must have died yesterday," he remarked, "a very old lion."

"If we acquire the characteristics of the creatures we eat, as many men
believe," Tarzan replied, "we should soon die of old age on this diet."

"Yesterday I had a piece of goat's meat from Thenar," said Phobeg.
"It was strong and none too tender, but it was better than this. I am
accustomed to good food. In the temple the priests live as well as the
nobles do in the palace, and so the temple guard lives well on the
leavings of the priests. I was a member of the temple guard. I was the
strongest man on the guard. I am the strongest man in Cathne. When
raiders come from Thenar, or when I am taken there on raids the nobles
marvel at my strength and bravery. I am afraid of nothing. With my bare
hands I have killed men. Did you ever see a man like me?"

"No," admitted the ape-man.

"Yes, it is well that we should be friends," continued Phobeg, "well
for you. Everyone wants to be friends with me, for they have learned
that my enemies get their necks twisted. I take them like this, by the
head and the neck," and with his great paws he went through a pantomime
of seizing and twisting; "then, crack! their spines break. What do you
think of that?"

"I should think that your enemies would find that very uncomfortable,"
replied Tarzan.

"Uncomfortable!" ejaculated Phobeg. "Why, man, it kills them!"

"At least they can no longer hear," commented the lord of the jungle.

"Of course they cannot hear; they are dead. I do not see what that has
to do with it."

"That does not surprise me," Tarzan assured him.

"What does not surprise you?" demanded Phobeg. "That they are dead? or
that they cannot hear?"

"I am not easily surprised by anything," explained the ape-man.

Beneath his low forehead Phobeg's brows were knitted in thought. He
scratched his head. "What were we talking about?" he demanded.

"We were trying to decide which would be more terrible," explained
Tarzan patiently, "to have you for a friend or an enemy."

Phobeg looked at his companion for a long time. One could almost see
the laborious effort of cerebration going on beneath that thick skull.
Then he shook his head. "That is not what we were talking about at
all," he grumbled. "Now I have forgotten. I never saw anyone as stupid
as you. When they called you a wild man they must have meant a crazy
man. And I have got to remain locked in here with you for no one knows
how long."

"You can always get rid of me," said Tarzan quite seriously.

"How can I get rid of you?" demanded the Cathnean.

"You can twist my neck, like this." Tarzan mimicked the pantomime in
which Phobeg had explained how he rid himself of his enemies.

"I _could_ do it," boasted Phobeg, "but then they _would_ kill me. No,
I shall let you live."

"Thanks," said Tarzan.

"Or at least while we are locked up here together," added Phobeg.

Experience had taught Tarzan that the more stupid or ignorant the
man the more egotistical he was likely to be, but he had never before
encountered such an example of crass stupidity and stupendous egotism
as Phobeg presented. To be locked up at all with this brainless mass of
flesh was bad enough in itself; but to be on bad terms with it at the
same time would make matters infinitely less bearable, and so Tarzan
determined to brook everything other than actual physical abuse that he
might lighten the galling burden of incarceration.

Loss of liberty represented for Tarzan, as it does for all creatures
endowed with brains, the acme of misery, more to be avoided than
physical pain, yet, with stoic fortitude he accepted his fate without a
murmur of protest; and while his body was confined between the narrow
confines of four walls of stone his memories roved the jungle and the
veldt and lived again the freedom and the experiences of the past.

He recalled the days of his childhood when fierce Kala, the she-ape
that had suckled him at her hairy breast in his infancy, had protected
him from the dangers of their savage life; and he recalled her
gentleness and her patience with this backward child who must still be
carried in her arms long after the balus of her companion shes were
able to scurry through the trees seeking their own food and even able
to protect themselves against their enemies by flight if nothing more.

These were his first impressions of life, dating back perhaps to his
second year while he was still unable to swing through the trees or
even make much progress upon the ground. After that he had developed
rapidly, far more rapidly than a pampered child of civilization, for
upon the quick development of his cunning and his strength depended his
life.

With a faint smile he recalled the rage of old Tublat, his foster
father, when Tarzan had deliberately undertaken to annoy him. Old
"Broken-nose" had always hated Tarzan because the helplessness of
his long-drawn infancy had prevented Kala from bearing other apes.
Tublat had argued in the meager language of the apes that Tarzan was a
weakling that would never become strong enough or clever enough to be
of value to the tribe. He wanted Tarzan killed; and he tried to get
old Kerchak, the king, to decree his death; so when Tarzan grew old
enough to understand, he hated Tublat and sought to annoy him in every
way that he could.

His memories of those days brought only smiles now, save only the
great tragedy of his life, the death of Kala; but that had occurred
later, when he was almost a grown man. She had been saved to him while
he needed her most and not taken away until after he was amply able
to fend for himself and meet the other denizens of the jungle upon an
equal footing. But it was not the protection of those great arms and
mighty fangs that he had missed, that he still missed even today; he
had missed the maternal love of that savage heart, the only mother-love
that he had ever known.

And now his thoughts turned naturally to other friends of the jungle
of whom Kala had been first and greatest. There were his many friends
among the great apes; there was Tantor, the elephant; there was
Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion; there was little Nkima. Poor little Nkima!
Much to his disgust and amid loud howls, Nkima had been left behind
this time when Tarzan set out upon his journey into the north country;
but the little monkey had contracted a cold and the ape-man did not
wish to expose him to the closing rains of the rainy season.

Tarzan regretted a little that he had not brought Jad-bal-ja with him,
for though he could do very well for considerable periods without the
companionship of man, he often missed that of the wild beasts that were
his friends. Of course the Golden Lion was sometimes an embarrassing
companion when one was in contact with human beings; but he was a loyal
friend and good company, for only occasionally did he break the silence.

Tarzan recalled the day that he had captured the tiny cub and how he
had taught the bitch, Za, to suckle it. What a cub he had been! All
lion from the very first. Tarzan sighed as he thought of the days that
he and the Golden Lion had hunted and fought together.



                                  VII

                                NEMONE


Tarzan had thought, when he went without objection into the prison cell
at Cathne, that the next morning he would be questioned and released,
or at least be taken from the cell; and once out of the cell again,
Tarzan had no intention of returning to it, the lord of the jungle
being very certain of his own prowess.

But they had not let him out the next morning nor the next nor the
next. Perhaps he might have made a break for liberty when food was
brought; but each time he thought that the next day would bring his
release, and waited.

Imprisonment of any nature galled him, but this experience was rendered
infinitely more irksome by the presence of Phobeg. The man annoyed
Tarzan; he was ignorant, a braggart, and inclined to be quarrelsome.
In the interests of peace the ape-man had tolerated more from his
cell-mate than he would have under ordinary circumstances; and Phobeg,
being what he was, had assumed that the other's toleration was prompted
by fear. Believing this, he became more arrogant and overbearing,
ignorant of the fact that he was playing with death.

Phobeg had been imprisoned longer than had Tarzan, and the confinement
was making him moody. Sometimes he sat for hours staring at the
floor, or, at others, he would mumble to himself, carrying on long
conversations which were always acrimonious and that usually resulted
in working him up into a rage; then he might seek to vent his
spleen upon Tarzan. The fact that Tarzan remained silent under such
provocation increased Phobeg's ire; but it also prevented an actual
break between them, for it is still a fact, however trite the saying,
that it takes two to make a quarrel; and Tarzan would not quarrel; at
least, not yet.

"Nemone won't get much entertainment out of you," growled Phobeg this
morning after one of his tirades had elicited no response from the
ape-man.

"Well, even so," replied Tarzan, "you should more than make up to her
any amusement value that I may lack."

"That I will," exclaimed Phobeg. "If it is fighting she wants, she
shall see such fighting as she has never seen before when she matches
Phobeg with either man or beast; but you! Bah! She will have to pit you
against some half-grown child if she wishes to see any fight at all.
You have no courage; your veins are filled with water. If she is wise
she will dump you into Xarator. By god's tail! I should like to see you
there. I'll bet my best habergeon they could hear you scream in Athne."

The ape-man was standing gazing at the little rectangle of sky that he
could see through the small, barred opening in the door. He remained
silent after Phobeg had ceased speaking, totally ignoring him as though
he had not spoken, as though he did not exist. Phobeg became furious.
He rose from the bench upon which he had been sitting.

"Coward!" he cried. "Why don't you answer me? By the yellow fangs of
Thoos! I've a mind to beat some manners into you, so that you will
know enough to answer when your betters speak." He took a step in the
direction of the ape-man.

Slowly Tarzan turned toward the angry man, his level gaze fixed upon
the other's eyes, and waited. He said nothing, but his attitude was an
open book that even the stupid Phobeg could read. And Phobeg hesitated.

Just what might have happened no man may know, for at that instant four
warriors came and swung the door of the cell open. "Come with us," said
one of them, "both of you."

Phobeg sullenly, Tarzan with the savage dignity of Numa, accompanied
the four warriors across the open courtyard and through a doorway that
led into a long corridor at the end of which they were ushered into a
large room. Here, behind a table, sat seven warriors trapped in ivory
and gold. Among them Tarzan recognized the two who had questioned him
the night of his capture, old Tomos and the younger Gemnon.

"These are nobles," whispered Phobeg to Tarzan. "That one at the center
of the table is old Tomos, the Queen's councillor. He would like to
marry the Queen, but I guess he is too old to suit her. The one on his
right is Erot. He used to be a common warrior like me; but Nemone took
a fancy to him, and now he is the Queen's favorite. She won't marry him
though, for he is not of noble blood. The young fellow on Tomos' left
is Gemnon. He is from an old and noble family. Warriors who have served
him say he is a very decent sort."

As Phobeg gossiped, the two prisoners and their guard had been standing
just inside the doorway waiting to be summoned to advance, and Tarzan
had had an opportunity to note the architecture and furnishings of the
room. The ceiling was low and was supported by a series of engaged
columns at regular intervals about the four walls. Between the columns
along one side of the room behind the table at which the nobles were
seated were unglazed windows, and there were three doorways: that
through which Tarzan and Phobeg had been brought, which was directly
opposite the windows, and one at either end of the room. The doors
themselves were beautifully carved and highly polished, some of the
panels containing mosaics of gold and ivory and bits of colored
substances.

The floor was of stone, composed of many pieces of different shapes and
sizes; but all so nicely fitted that joints were barely discernible.
On the floor were a few small rugs either of the skins of lions or of
a stiff and heavy wool weave. These latter contained simple designs in
several colors and resembled the work of primitive people such as the
Navajos of southwestern America.

Upon the walls were paintings depicting battle scenes in which lions
and elephants took part with warriors, and always the warriors with
the elephants appeared to be suffering defeat, while the warriors with
the lions were collecting many heads from fallen foemen. Above these
mural paintings was a row of mounted heads encircling the room. These
were similar to those Tarzan had seen in the guardroom the night of
his coming to Cathne and differed from them only in that they were
better specimens and better mounted. Perhaps, too, the heads of men
predominated here, scowling down upon their enemies.

But now Tarzan's examination of the room was interrupted by the voice
of Tomos. "Bring the prisoners forward," he directed the under-officer
who was one of the four warriors escorting them.

When the two men had been halted upon the opposite side of the table
from the nobles, Tomos pointed at Tarzan's companion. "Which is this
one?" he demanded.

"He is called Phobeg," replied the under-officer.

"What is the charge against him?"

"He profaned Thoos."

"Who brought the charge?"

"The high priest."

"It was an accident," Phobeg hastened to explain. "I meant no
disrespect."

"Silence!" snapped Tomos. Then he pointed at Tarzan. "And this one?" he
demanded. "Who is he?"

"This is the one who calls himself Tarzan," explained Gemnon. "You will
recall that you and I examined him the night he was captured."

"Yes, yes," said Tomos; "I recall. He carried some sort of strange
weapon."

"Is he the man of whom you told me," asked Erot, "the one who came from
Athne to assassinate the Queen?"

"This is the one," replied Tomos; "he came at night during the last
storm and succeeded in making his way into the palace grounds after
dark before he was discovered and arrested."

"He does not greatly resemble an Athnean," commented Erot.

"I am not," said Tarzan.

"Silence!" commanded Tomos.

"Why should I be silent?" demanded Tarzan. "There is none other to
speak for me than myself; therefore I shall speak for myself. I am no
enemy of your people, nor are my people at war with yours. I demand my
liberty!"

"He demands his liberty," mimicked Erot and laughed aloud as though it
was a good joke; "the slave demands his liberty!"

Tomos half rose from his seat, his face purple with rage. He banged the
table with his fist. He pointed a finger at Tarzan. "Speak when you are
spoken to, slave, and not otherwise; and when Tomos, the councillor,
tells you to be silent, be silent."

"I have spoken," said Tarzan; "when I choose to speak again, I shall
speak."

"We have a way of silencing impudent slaves, forever," sneered Erot.

"It is evident that he is a man from a far country," interjected
Gemnon. "It is not strange that he neither understands our customs nor
recognizes the great among us. Perhaps we should listen to him. If he
is not an Athnean and no enemy, why should we imprison him or punish
him?"

"He came over the palace walls at night," retorted Tomos. "He could
have come for but one purpose, to kill our Queen; therefore he must
die. The manner of his death shall be at the pleasure of Nemone, our
sweet and gracious Queen."

"He told us that the river washed him down to Cathne," persisted
Gemnon. "It was a very dark night and he did not know where he was
when he finally succeeded in crawling ashore; it was only chance that
brought him to the palace."

"A pretty story but not plausible," countered Erot.

"Why not plausible?" demanded Gemnon. "I think it quite plausible. We
know that no man could have swum the river in the flood that was raging
that night, and that this man could not have reached the spot at which
he climbed the wall except by swimming the river or crossing the bridge
of gold. We know that he did not cross the bridge, because the bridge
was well guarded and no one crossed that night. Knowing therefore that
he did not cross the bridge and could not have swum the river, we know
that the only way he could have reached that particular spot upon the
river's bank was by being swept downstream from above. I believe his
story, and I believe that we should treat him as an honorable warrior
from some distant kingdom until we have better reasons than we now have
for believing otherwise."

"I should not care to be the one to defend a man who came here to kill
the Queen," sneered Erot meaningly.

"Enough of this!" said Tomos curtly. "The man shall be judged fairly
and destroyed as Nemone thinks best."

As he ceased speaking, a door at one end of the room opened and a noble
resplendent in ivory and gold stepped into the chamber. Halting just
within the threshold, he faced the nobles at the table.

"The Queen!" he announced in a loud voice and then stepped aside.

All eyes turned in the direction of the doorway and at the same time
the nobles rose to their feet and then kneeled upon the floor, facing
the doorway through which the Queen would enter. The warriors on guard,
including those with Tarzan and Phobeg, did likewise, Phobeg following
their example. Everyone in the room kneeled except the noble who had
announced the Queen, or rather every Cathnean. Tarzan of the Apes did
not kneel.

"Down, jackal!" growled one of the guards in a whisper, and then
amidst deathly silence a woman stepped into view and paused, framed
in the carved casing of the doorway. Regal, she stood there glancing
indolently about the apartment; then her eyes met those of the ape-man
and, for a moment, held there on his. A slight frown of puzzlement
contracted her straight brows as she continued on into the room,
approaching the table and the kneeling men.

Behind her followed a half dozen richly arrayed nobles, resplendent
in burnished gold and gleaming ivory, but as they crossed the chamber
Tarzan saw only the gorgeous figure of the Queen. She was clothed more
simply than her escort; but that form, which her apparel revealed
rather than hid, required no embellishments other than those with which
nature had endowed it. She was far more beautiful than the crude Phobeg
had painted her.

A narrow diadem set with red stones encircled her brow, confining her
glossy black hair; upon either side of her head, covering her ears, a
large golden disc depended from the diadem; while from its rear rose
a slender filament of gold that curved forward, supporting a large
red stone above the center of her head. About her throat was a simple
golden band that held a brooch and pendant of ivory in the soft hollow
of her neck. Upon her upper arms were similar golden bands supporting
triangular, curved ornaments of ivory. A broad band of gold mesh
supported her breasts, the band being embellished with horizontal bands
of red stones, while from its upper edge depended five narrow triangles
of ivory, a large one in the center and two smaller ones on either side.

A girdle about her hips was of gold mesh. It supported another ivory
triangle the slender apex of which curved slightly inward between her
legs and also her scant skirt of black monkey hair that fell barely to
her knees, conforming perfectly to the contours of her body.

About her wrists were numerous bracelets of ivory and gold and around
her ankles were vertical strips of ivory held together by leather
thongs, identical in form to those worn by Valthor and by the Cathnean
men. Her feet were shod with dainty sandals; and as she moved upon
them silently across the stone floor, her movements seemed to Tarzan a
combination of the seductive languor of the sensualist and the sinuous
grace and savage alertness of the tigress.

That she was marvellously beautiful by the standards of any land or
any time grew more apparent to the lord of the jungle as she came
nearer to him, yet her presence exhaled a subtle essence that left him
wondering if her beauty were the reflection of a nature all good or
all evil, for her mien and bearing suggested that there could be no
compromise--Nemone, the Queen, was all one or all the other.

She kept her eyes upon him as she crossed the room slowly, and Tarzan
did not drop his own from hers. There was neither boldness nor
rudeness in his gaze, perhaps there was not even interest--it was the
non-committal, cautious appraisal of the wild beast that watches a
creature which it neither fears nor desires.

The quizzical frown still furrowed Nemone's smooth brow as she reached
the end of the table where the nobles kneeled. It was not an angry
frown, and there might have been in it much of interest and something
of amusement, for unusual things interested and amused Nemone, so rare
were they in the monotony of her life; and it was certainly unusual to
see one who did not accord her the homage due a queen.

As she halted she turned her eyes upon the kneeling nobles. "Arise!"
she commanded, and in that single word the vibrant qualities of her
rich, deep voice sent a strange thrill through the ape-man. "Who
is this that does not kneel to Nemone?" she demanded, her gaze now
returned to the bronzed figure standing impassively before her.

As Tarzan had been standing behind the nobles as they had turned to
face Nemone when they kneeled, only two of his guards had been aware
of his dereliction; but now as they arose and faced about, their
countenances were filled with horror and rage when they discovered that
the strange captive had so affronted their Queen.

Tomos went purple again. He spluttered with rage. "He is an ignorant
and impudent savage, my Queen," he said; "but as he is about to die his
actions are of no consequence."

"Why is he about to die?" demanded Nemone, "and how is he to die?"

"He is to die because he came here in the dead of night to assassinate
your majesty," explained Tomos; "the manner of his death rests of
course in the hands of our gracious Queen."

Nemone's dark eyes, veiled behind long lashes, appraised the ape-man,
lingering upon his bronzed skin and the rolling contours of his
muscles; then rising to the handsome face until her eyes met his. "Why
did you not kneel?" she asked.

"Why should I kneel to you who they have said will have me killed?"
demanded Tarzan. "Why should I kneel to you who are not my Queen? Why
should I, Tarzan of the Apes, who kneels to no one, kneel to you?"

"Silence!" cried Tomos. "Your impertinence knows no bounds. Do you not
realize, ignorant slave, low savage, that you are addressing Nemone,
the Queen!"

Tarzan made no reply; he did not even look at Tomos; his eyes were
fixed upon Nemone. She fascinated him; but whether as a thing of beauty
or a thing of evil, he did not know. He only knew that few women, other
than La, the High Priestess of the Flaming God, had ever so wholly
aroused his interest and his curiosity.

Tomos turned to the under-officer in command of the escort that was
guarding Tarzan and Phobeg. "Take them away!" he snapped. "Take them
back to their cell until we are ready to destroy them."

"Wait," said Nemone. "I would know more of this man," and then she
turned to Tarzan. "So you came to kill me!" Her voice was smooth,
almost caressing. At the moment the woman reminded Tarzan of a cat that
is playing with its victim. "Perhaps they chose a good man for the
purpose; you look as though you might be equal to any feat of arms."

"Killing a woman is no feat of arms," replied Tarzan. "I do not kill
women. I did not come here to kill you."

"Then why did you come to Onthar?" inquired the Queen in her silky
voice.

"That I have already explained twice to that old man with the red
face," replied Tarzan, nodding in the general direction of Tomos. "Ask
him; I am tired of explaining to people who have already decided to
kill me."

Tomos trembled with rage and half drew his slender, dagger-like sword.
"Let me destroy him, my Queen," he cried. "Let me wipe out the affront
he has put upon my beloved ruler."

Nemone had flushed angrily at Tarzan's words, but she did not lose
control of herself. "Sheathe your sword, Tomos," she commanded icily;
"Nemone is competent to decide when she is affronted and what steps to
take. The fellow is indeed impertinent; but it seems to me that if he
affronted anyone, it was Tomos he affronted and not Nemone. However,
his temerity shall not go unpunished. Who is this other?"

"He is a temple guard named Phobeg," explained Erot. "He profaned
Thoos."

"It would amuse us," said Nemone, "to see these two men fight upon the
Field of the Lions. Let them fight without other weapons than those
which Thoos has given them. To the victor, freedom," she hesitated
momentarily, "freedom within limits. Take them away!"



                                 VIII

                      UPON THE FIELD OF THE LIONS


Tarzan and Phobeg were back in their little stone cell; the ape-man had
not escaped. He had had no opportunity to escape on the way back to his
prison, for the warriors who guarded him had redoubled their vigilance,
having been cautioned to do so by Erot, and the points of two spears
had been kept constantly against his body.

Phobeg was moody and thoughtful. The attitude of his fellow prisoner
during their examination by the nobles, his seeming indifference to
the majesty and power of Nemone, had tended to alter Phobeg's former
estimate of the ape-man's courage. He realized now that the fellow was
either a very brave man or a very great fool; and he hoped that he was
the latter, for Phobeg was to be pitted against him upon the Field of
the Lions, possibly on the morrow.

Phobeg was stupid, but past experience had taught him something of the
psychology of mortal combat. He knew that when a man went into battle
fearing his antagonist he was already handicapped and partly defeated.
Now Phobeg did not fear Tarzan; he was too stupid and too ignorant to
anticipate fear. Facing probable defeat and death, he could be overcome
by fear and even cowardice; but he was of too low an order, mentally,
to visualize either in imagination, except in a rather vague and hazy
way.

Tarzan, on the other hand, was of an entirely different temperament;
and though he never knew fear it was for a very different reason. Being
intelligent and imaginative, he could visualize all the possibilities
of an impending encounter; but he could never know fear, because death
held no terrors for him; and he had learned to suffer physical pain
without the usually attendant horrors of mental anguish. Therefore, if
he thought about the coming combat at all, he was not overconfident nor
fearful nor nervous. Could he have known what was in the fellow's mind
when he commenced to speak he would have been amused.

"It will doubtless be tomorrow," said Phobeg grimly.

"What will be tomorrow?" inquired the ape-man.

"The combat in which I shall kill you," explained the cheerful Phobeg.

"Oh, so you are going to kill me! Phobeg, I am surprised. I thought
that you were my friend." Tarzan's tone was serious, though a brighter
man than Phobeg might have discovered in it a note of banter; but
Phobeg was not bright at all, and he thought that Tarzan was already
commencing to throw himself upon his mercy.

"It will soon be over," Phobeg assured him. "I promise that I shall not
let you suffer long."

"I suppose that you will twist my neck like this," said Tarzan,
pretending to twist something with his two hands.

"M-m-m, perhaps," admitted Phobeg; "but I shall have to throw you about
a bit first. We must amuse Nemone, you know."

"Surely, by all means!" asserted Tarzan. "But suppose you should not be
able to throw me about? Suppose that I should throw you about? Would
that amuse Nemone? Or perhaps it would amuse you!"

Phobeg laughed. "It amuses me very much just to think about it," he
said, "and I hope that it amuses you to think about it, for that is as
near as you will ever come to throwing Phobeg about; have I not told
you that I am the strongest man in Cathne?"

"Oh, of course," admitted Tarzan. "I had forgotten that for the moment."

"You would do well to try to remember it," advised Phobeg, "or
otherwise our combat will not be interesting at all."

"And Nemone would not be amused! That would be sad. We should make it
as interesting and exciting as possible, and you must not conclude it
too soon."

"You are right about that," agreed Phobeg. "The better it is the more
generous will Nemone feel toward me when it is over; she may even give
me a donation in addition to my liberty if we amuse her well.

"By the belly of Thoos!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh. "We must
make a good fight of it and a long one. Now listen! How would this be?
At first we shall pretend that you are defeating me; I shall let you
throw me about a bit. You see? Then I shall get the better of it for
a while, and then you. We shall take turns up to a certain point, and
then, when I give you the cue, you must pretend to be frightened, and
run away from me. I shall then chase you all over the arena, and that
will give them a good laugh. When I catch you at last (and you must let
me catch you right in front of Nemone) I shall then twist your neck and
kill you, but I will do it as painlessly as possible."

"You are very kind," said Tarzan grimly.

"Do you like the plan?" demanded Phobeg. "Is it not a splendid one?"

"It will certainly amuse them," agreed Tarzan, "if it works."

"If it works! Why should it not work? It will, if you do your part."

"But suppose _I_ kill _you_?" inquired the lord of the jungle.

"There you go again!" exclaimed Phobeg. "I must say that you are a good
fellow after all, for you will have your little joke; and I can tell
you that there is no one who enjoys a little joke more than Phobeg."

"I hope that you are in the same mood tomorrow," remarked Tarzan.

When the next day dawned the slave and the guard came with a large
breakfast for the two prisoners, the best meal that had been served
them since they had been imprisoned.

"Eat well," advised one of the warriors, "that you may have strength
to fight a good fight for the entertainment of the Queen. For one of
you it is the last meal; so you had both better enjoy it to the full,
since there is no telling for which one of you it is the last."

"It is the last for him," said Phobeg, jerking a thumb in the direction
of Tarzan.

"It is thus that the betting goes," said the warrior, "but even so
one cannot always be sure. The stranger is a large man, and he looks
strong."

"There is none so strong as Phobeg," the former temple guard reminded
them.

The warrior shrugged. "Perhaps," he admitted, "but I am not betting any
money on either of you."

"Twenty drachmas to ten that he runs away from me before the fight is
over," offered Phobeg.

"And if he kills you, who will pay me?" demanded the warrior. "No, that
is not a good bet," and he went out and closed and locked the door
behind him.

An hour later a large detachment of warriors came and took Tarzan
and Phobeg from the prison. They led them through the palace grounds
and out into an avenue bordered by old trees. It was a lovely avenue
flanked by the white and gold homes of the nobles and the great
two-storied palace surmounted by its golden domes.

Here were throngs of people waiting to see the start of the pageant and
companies of warriors standing at ease, leaning upon their spears. It
was an interesting sight to Tarzan who had been so long confined in the
gloomy prison. He noted the dress of the civilians and the architecture
of the splendid houses that could be glimpsed between the trees. He
saw that the men wore short tunics or jerkins that were quite similar
to the habergeons worn by the warriors, except that they were of a
solid piece of cloth or light leather rather than of discs of elephant
hide. The women wore short skirts of hair or cloth or leather, scant,
clinging skirts that terminated just above the knees; a band to confine
the breasts, sandals, and ornaments completed their simple attire.

Tarzan and Phobeg were escorted west along the avenue; and as they
passed, the crowd commented upon them. There were many who knew Phobeg;
some shouted encouragement to him; others taunted and insulted him. It
appeared that Phobeg's popularity was not city wide. They discussed
Tarzan freely but with no malice. He interested them, and there was
much speculation as to his chances in a fight against the burly temple
guard. The ape-man heard many wagers offered and taken; some were on
him and some against; but it was evident that Phobeg was the favored of
the bettors.

At the end of the avenue Tarzan saw the great bridge of gold that
spanned the river. It was a splendid structure built entirely of the
precious metal. Two golden lions of heroic size flanked the approach
from the city, and as he was led across the bridge the ape-man saw two
identical lions guarding the western end.

Out upon the plain that is called the Field of the Lions a crowd of
spectators was filing toward a point about a mile from the city where
many people were congregated, and toward this assemblage the detachment
escorted the two gladiators. Here was a large, oval arena excavated
to a depth of twenty or thirty feet in the floor of the plain. Upon
the excavated earth piled symmetrically around the edges of the pit,
and terraced from the plain level to the top, were arranged slabs of
stone to serve as seats. At the east end of the arena was a wide ramp
descending into it. Spanning the ramp was a low arch surmounted by the
loges of the Queen and high nobility.

As Tarzan passed beneath the arch and descended the ramp toward the
arena, he saw that nearly half the seats were already taken. The people
were eating food that they had brought with them, and there was much
laughter and talking. Evidently it was a gala day. He asked Phobeg.

"This is part of the celebration that annually follows the ending of
the rainy season," explained the Cathnean. "There is entertainment
of some sort here at least once a month and oftener when the weather
permits. You will have an opportunity to see all the events before I
kill you, as our combat will undoubtedly be the last event upon the
program."

The warriors conducted the two men to the far end of the arena where
a terrace had been cut part way up the sloping side of the arena, a
wooden ladder leaning against the wall giving access to it. Here, upon
this terrace, Tarzan and Phobeg were installed with a few warriors to
serve as guards.

Presently, from the direction of the city, Tarzan heard the music of
drums and trumpets.

"Here they come!" cried Phobeg.

"Who?" asked Tarzan.

"The Queen and the lion men," replied his adversary.

"What are the lion men?" inquired Tarzan.

"They are the nobles," explained Phobeg. "Really only the hereditary
nobles are members of the clan of lions, but we usually speak of all
nobles as lion men. Erot is a noble because Nemone has created him one;
but he is not a lion man, as he was not born a noble."

"Cleave my skull! but I bet he hates that," commented one of the guard.

"He'd give a right eye to be a lion man," said Phobeg.

"It's too late now," observed the warrior; "he should have picked his
parents more carefully."

"He claims that he did pick a noble father," explained Phobeg, "but his
mother denies it."

Another warrior laughed. "Son of a noble!" he scoffed. "I know old
Tibdos, the husband of Erot's mother; I know him well. He cleans the
lions' cages at the breeding farm. Erot looks just like him. Son of a
noble!"

"Son of a she-jackal!" growled Phobeg. "I wish I were to fight him
today instead of this poor fellow."

"You feel sorry for him?" inquired a warrior.

"Yes, in a way," replied Phobeg. "He is not a half bad fellow, and I
have nothing against him except that he is stupid. He cannot seem to
understand the simplest things. He does not seem to realize that I
am the strongest man in Cathne and that I am going to kill him this
afternoon, unless they get through with the other events early and I
kill him this morning."

"How do you know that he does not realize these things?" demanded the
warrior.

"Because he has never given any sign that he is very much afraid."

"Possibly he does not believe that you can kill him," suggested the
warrior.

"Then that proves that he is very stupid; but stupid or not, I am going
to kill him. I am going to twist his neck until his spine breaks. I
can scarcely wait to get my hands on him; of all the things that I
love there is no sensation equal to that of killing a man. I love that
better than I love women."

Tarzan glanced at the great hulk squatting beside him. "The French have
a word for that," he remarked.

"I do not know what you are talking about," growled Phobeg.

"I am not surprised."

"There he goes again!" exclaimed Phobeg. "What sense is there to that?
Did I not tell you that he is stupid?"

Now the blaring of the trumpets and the beating of the drums burst with
increased volume upon their ears, and Tarzan saw that the musicians
were marching down the ramp into the arena at the far end of the great
oval. At the same time the tumult in the stands increased as now
thousands surged over the rim of the stadium and sought seats among the
thousands already there.

Behind the music marched a company of warriors, and from each spear
head fluttered a colored pennon. It was a stirring and colorful
picture, but nothing to what followed.

A few yards in rear of the warriors came a chariot of gold drawn by
four maned lions, where, half reclining upon a couch draped with furs
and gaily colored cloths, rode Nemone, the Queen. Sixteen black slaves
held the lions in leash; and at either side of the chariot marched six
nobles resplendent in gold and ivory, while a huge black, marching
behind, held a great, red parasol over the Queen. Squatting upon little
seats above the rear wheels of the chariot were two small blackamoors
wielding feathered fans above her.

At sight of the chariot and its royal occupant, the people in the
stands arose and then kneeled down in salute to their ruler, while wave
after wave of applause rolled round the amphitheater as the pageant
slowly circled the arena.

Behind Nemone's chariot marched another company of warriors; these were
followed by a number of gorgeously decorated wooden chariots, each
drawn by two lions and driven by a noble; following these marched a
company of nobles on foot, while a third company of warriors brought up
the rear.

When the column had circled the arena Nemone quit her chariot and
ascended to her loge above the ramp amid the continued cheering of the
populace, the chariots driven by the nobles lined up in the center of
the arena, the royal guard formed across the entrance to the stadium,
and the nobles who had no part in the games went to their private loges.

There followed then in quick succession contests in dagger throwing and
in the throwing of spears, feats of strength and skill, and foot races.
Upon every event wagers were laid and the whole stadium was a bedlam
of shouted wagers and odds, of curses, groans, hoots, laughter, and
applause.

In the loges of Nemone and the nobles great sums changed hands upon
every event. The Queen was an inveterate gambler, winning or losing a
fortune upon the cast of a single dagger. When she won she smiled, and
she smiled too when she lost; but men knew that contestants upon whom
Nemone won regularly through the year were the recipients of royal
favors, while those upon whom she consistently lost often disappeared.

When the minor sports were completed the chariot races began; and upon
these the betting dwarfed all the other betting of the day, and men
and women acted like maniacs as they encouraged a favorite driver,
applauded a winner, or berated an unfortunate loser.

Two drivers raced in each event, the distance being always the same,
one lap of the arena, for lions cannot maintain high speed for great
distances. After each race the winner received a pennon from the
Queen, while the loser drove up the ramp and out of the stadium amid
the hoots of those who had lost money on him. Then two more raced, and
when the last pair had finished the winners paired off for new events.
Thus, by elimination, the contestants were eventually reduced to two,
winners in each event in which they had contested. This, then, was the
première racing event of the day, and the noise and the betting that
it engendered surpassed all that had gone before.

The winner of this final race was acclaimed champion of the day and was
presented with a golden helmet by Nemone herself, and even those who
had bet upon his rival and lost their money added their voices to the
ovation that the noisy throng accorded him as he drove proudly around
the arena and disappeared up the ramp beneath the arch of the Queen;
his golden helmet shining bravely in the sun.

"Now," said Phobeg in a loud voice, "the people are going to see
something worth while. It is what they have been waiting for, and they
will not be disappointed. If you have a god, fellow, pray to him, for
you are about to die."

"Are you not going to permit me to run around the arena first while you
chase me?" demanded Tarzan.



                                  IX

                            "DEATH! DEATH!"


A score of slaves were busily cleaning up the arena following the
departure of the lion-drawn chariots, the audience was standing and
stretching itself, nobles were wandering from loge to loge visiting
their friends, men and women were settling up past wagers and making
new ones. The sounds of many voices enveloped the stadium in one mighty
discord. The period was one of intermission between events.

Tarzan was annoyed. Crowds irritated his nerves. The sound of human
voices was obnoxious to him. Through narrowed lids he surveyed the
scene. If ever a wild beast looked upon its enemies it was then.

Phobeg was still boasting in a loud voice that was clearly audible to
at least a portion of the audience sitting just above the gladiators'
ledge. The attitude of the temple guard was anything but soothing to
the lord of the jungle, but by no sign did he intimate that he heard
him after his first retort.

Already the betting was running high on this last event of the day,
though only a small proportion of the audience had had a fair view of
the two contestants by which they might compare them. Phobeg, however,
was known by reputation and was the favorite, the odds running as high
as ten to one against Tarzan.

In the royal loge Nemone lay back luxuriously in the great chair that
was half a throne and half a couch. She had lost heavily during the
day, but she showed no ill humor. However, the nobles surrounding her
were ill at ease and hoped that she would win on this last event. Each
was determined to bet heavily upon the strange wild man with Nemone,
so that she might win back all that she had lost to them upon earlier
events, for all were assured that Nemone would back Phobeg, it being
her custom to bet heavily upon all favorites.

Erot was particularly anxious that the Queen should win back what he
had won from her. For some time he had been a trifle uncertain as
to his position in the good graces of his sovereign; he had sensed,
perhaps, that he was slipping a little; and he had had sufficient
experience to know that winning money from Nemone constituted nothing
less than a tremendous shove to one who had started to slip.

Therefore Erot, with the other nobles, having determined to let Nemone
win their money on Phobeg sent slaves out into the audience secretly to
place money enough on Phobeg to reimburse them what they lost to Nemone
on Tarzan. The plan was accurately figured and neatly worked, and when
the day was over Nemone would be winner and so would they, all of their
losses having been more than made up by their winnings on Phobeg, which
the common people would have paid.

This large volume of money going suddenly among the audience which was
already favoring Phobeg and offering large odds against Tarzan found
very little Tarzan money available at ten to one. The natural result
was that to place their money at all they had to offer larger odds, and
to reimburse themselves of their losses to Nemone, or rather their
assumed losses, for no wagers had yet been laid in the royal loge,
they were compelled to put up enormous sums as the odds soared upward
finally until it took one hundred Phobeg drachmas to cover one of
Tarzan's.

Now a trumpet sounded, and the warriors guarding Tarzan and Phobeg
ordered them down into the arena and paraded them once around it that
the people might compare the gladiators and choose a favorite. As they
passed before the royal loge Nemone leaned forward with half-closed
eyes surveying the tall stranger and the squat Cathnean.

Erot, the Queen's favorite, watched her. "A thousand drachmas on the
stranger!" he cried.

"I am betting on the stranger, too," interjected another noble eagerly.

"So am I," said Nemone.

Erot and the other nobles were amazed; this upset their plans
completely. Of course they would win more money, but one always felt
safer losing to Nemone than winning from her.

"You will lose your money," Erot told her.

"Then why did you offer to bet on the stranger?" demanded the Queen.

"The odds were so attractive that I was tempted into taking a chance,"
explained Erot quickly.

"What are the odds now?"

"One hundred to one."

"And you think the stranger may not have even one chance in a hundred
of winning?" demanded Nemone, toying idly with the hilt of her dagger.

"Phobeg is the strongest man in Cathne," said Erot. "I really think
that the stranger has no chance at all against him; he is as good as
dead already."

"Very well then, if you feel that way about it you should bet on
Phobeg," whispered Nemone softly. "I am going to wager 100,000 drachmas
on the stranger. How much of this do you wish, my dear Erot?"

"I wish that my Queen would not risk her money on him at all," said
Erot; "I am grieved when my beloved Queen loses."

"You bore me, Erot." Nemone gestured impatiently and then, turning to
the other nobles, "Is there none here who will cover my drachmas?"

Instantly they were all eager to accommodate her. To win a hundred
thousand drachmas from the Queen in addition to all that they would
win from the common people was too much for their cupidity; they even
forgot Nemone's possible wrath in their anxiety to accommodate her now
that it was certain that her decision could not be altered, and in a
few minutes the bets had been recorded.

"He has a fine physique," commented Nemone, her eyes upon the jungle
lord, "and he is taller than the other."

"But look at Phobeg's muscles," Erot reminded her. "This Phobeg has
killed many men; they say that he twists their necks and breaks their
spines."

"We shall see," was the Queen's only comment.

Erot thought that he would not like to be in Phobeg's sandals, for if
the stranger did not kill him Nemone most certainly would see that he
did not long survive, who had robbed her of a hundred thousand drachmas.

Now the two men were posted in the arena a short distance from the
royal loge, and the captain of the stadium was giving them their
instructions which were extremely simple: they were to remain inside
the arena and try to kill one another with their bare hands, though
the use of elbows, knees, feet, or teeth was not barred; there were
no other rules governing the combat. The winner was to receive his
freedom, though even this had been qualified by Nemone.

"When the trumpet sounds you may attack," said the captain of the
stadium. "And may Thoos be with you."

Tarzan and Phobeg had been placed ten paces apart. Now they stood
waiting the signal. Phobeg swelled his chest and beat upon it with his
fists; he flexed his arms, swelling the great muscles of his biceps
until they stood out like great knotty balls; then he hopped about,
warming up his leg muscles. He was attracting all the attention, and
that pleased him excessively.

Tarzan stood quietly, his arms folded loosely across his chest, his
muscles relaxed. He appeared totally unconscious of the presence of
the noisy multitude or even of Phobeg, but he was not unconscious
of anything that was transpiring about him. His eyes and his ears
were alert; it would be Tarzan who would hear the first note of the
trumpet's signal; Tarzan was ready!

Tarzan cared nothing for the stupid men-things making silly noises in
their throats, gathered here to see two fellow creatures that had never
harmed them try to kill one another for their pleasure; he did not care
what they thought about him; to him they were less than the droppings
of lions that the slaves had swept up in the arena.

He did not wish to kill Phobeg, nor did he wish to be killed; but
Phobeg disgusted him, and he would have liked to punish the man for his
ridiculous egotism. He realized that his antagonist was a mighty man
and that it might not be an easy thing to punish him without taking a
great deal of punishment himself, but this risk he did not mind so that
he could halt his own punishment short of crippling or death. His gaze
chanced to cross the royal loge; it halted there; the eyes of Nemone
met his and held them. What strange eyes were hers--so beautiful, with
fires burning far beneath the surface, so mysterious!

The trumpet pealed, and Tarzan's eyes swung back to Phobeg. A strange
silence fell upon the amphitheater. The two men approached one another,
Phobeg strutting and confident, Tarzan with the easy, graceful stride
of a lion.

"Say your prayers, fellow!" shouted the temple guard. "I am going to
kill you; but first I shall play with you for the amusement of Nemone."

Phobeg came closer and reached for Tarzan. The ape-man let him seize
him by the shoulders; then Tarzan cupped his two hands and brought the
heels of them up suddenly and with great force beneath Phobeg's chin
and at the same time pushed the man from him. The great head snapped
back, and the fellow's huge bulk hurtled backward a dozen paces, where
Phobeg sat down heavily.

A groan of surprise arose from the audience, interspersed with cheers
from those who had wagered on Tarzan. Phobeg scrambled to his feet; his
face was contorted with rage; in an instant he had gone berserk. With a
roar, he charged the ape-man.

"No quarter!" he screamed. "I kill you _now_!"

"Kill! Kill!" shouted the Phobeg adherents. "Death! Death! Give us a
death!"

"Don't you wish to throw me about a bit first?" asked Tarzan in a low
voice, as he lightly side-stepped the other's mad charge.

"No!" screamed Phobeg, turning clumsily and charging again. "I kill! I
kill!"

Tarzan caught the outstretched hands and spread them wide; then a
bronzed arm, lightning-like, clamped about Phobeg's short neck;
the ape-man wheeled suddenly about, leaned forward, and hurled his
antagonist over his head. Phobeg fell heavily to the sandy gravel of
the arena.

Nemone leaned from the royal loge, her eyes flashing, her bosom
heaving. Erot was but one of many nobles who experienced a constriction
of the diaphragm. Nemone turned to him. "Would you like to bet a little
more on the strongest man in Cathne?" she asked.

Erot smiled a sickly smile. "The battle has only commenced," he said.

"But already it is as good as over," taunted Nemone.

Phobeg arose but this time more slowly, nor did he charge again but
approached his antagonist warily; his tactics now were very different
from what they had been. He wanted to get close enough to Tarzan to get
a hold; that was all he desired, just a hold; then, he knew, he could
crush the man with his great strength.

Perhaps the ape-man sensed what was in the mind of his foe, perhaps it
was just chance that caused him to taunt Phobeg by holding his left
wrist out to the other; but whatever it was, Phobeg seized upon the
opportunity and, grasping Tarzan's wrist, sought to drag the ape-man
into his embrace; then Tarzan stepped in quickly, struck Phobeg a
terrific blow in the face with his right fist, seized the wrist of the
hand that held his, and, again whirling quickly beneath his victim,
threw him heavily once more, using Phobeg's arm as a lever and his own
shoulder as a fulcrum.

This time Phobeg had difficulty in arising at all. He came up very
slowly. The ape-man was standing over him. The blood froze in the veins
of the Cathnean as he heard the low, beast-like growl rumbling in the
throat of the stranger.

Suddenly Tarzan stooped and seized Phobeg, and, lifting him bodily,
held him above his head. "Shall I run now, Phobeg?" he growled, "or are
you too tired to chase me?" Then he hurled the man to the ground again
a little nearer to the royal loge where Nemone sat, tense and thrilling.

Like a lion with its prey, the lord of the jungle followed the man who
had taunted him and would have killed him; twice again he picked him
up and hurled him closer to the end of the arena. Now the fickle crowd
was screaming to Tarzan to kill Phobeg; Phobeg, the strongest man in
Cathne; Phobeg, who twisted men's necks until their spines cracked.

Again Tarzan seized his antagonist and held him above his head. Phobeg
struggled weakly, but he was quite helpless. Tarzan walked to the side
of the arena near the royal loge and hurled the great body up into the
audience.

"Take your strong man," he said; "Tarzan does not want him." Then he
walked away and stood before the ramp, waiting, as though he demanded
his freedom.

Amid shrieks and howls that called to Tarzan's mind only the foulest of
wild beasts, the loathsome hyena, the crowd hurled the unhappy Phobeg
back into the arena. "Kill him! Kill him!" they screamed.

Nemone leaned from her loge. "Kill him, Tarzan!" she cried.

Tarzan shrugged with disgust and turned away.

"Kill him, slave!" commanded a noble from his luxurious loge.

"I shall not kill him," replied the ape-man.

Nemone arose in her loge. She was flushed and excited. "Tarzan!" she
cried, and when the ape-man glanced up at her, "why do you not kill
him?"

"Why should I kill him?" demanded Tarzan. "He cannot harm me, and I
kill only in self-defense or for food; but I do not eat human flesh, so
why should I kill him?"

Phobeg, bruised, battered, and helpless, arose weakly to his feet
and stood reeling drunkenly. He heard the voice of the pitiless mob
screaming for his death. He saw his antagonist standing a few paces
away in front of the ramp, paying no attention to him, and dimly and
as though from a great distance he had heard him refuse to kill him.
He had heard, but he did not comprehend. He expected to be killed, for
such was the custom and the law of the arena. He had sought to kill
this man; he would have shown him no mercy; so he could not understand
the mercy of Tarzan's indifference that had been extended to him.

Phobeg's bloodshot eyes wandered helplessly about the arena, seeking
nothing or no one in particular; sympathy was not to be found there,
nor mercy, nor any friend; such were not for the vanquished. The
frenzied blood-lust of the mob fascinated him. A few minutes ago it had
been acclaiming him; now it condemned him to death. His gaze reached
the royal loge as Erot leaned far out and shouted to Tarzan standing
below.

"Kill him, fellow!" he cried. "It is the Queen's command."

Phobeg's eyes dropped to the figure of the ape-man, and he braced
himself for a final effort to delay the inevitable. He knew that he
had met one mightier than himself and that he must die when the other
wished; but the law of self-preservation compelled him to defend
himself, however hopelessly.

The ape-man glanced up at the Queen's favorite. "Tarzan kills only whom
it pleases him to kill." He spoke in a low voice that yet carried to
the royal loge. "I shall not kill Phobeg."

"You fool," cried Erot, "do you not understand that it is the Queen's
wish, that it is the Queen's command, which no one may disobey and
live, that you kill the fellow?"

"If the Queen wants him killed, why doesn't she send you down to do it?
She is your Queen, not mine." There was neither awe nor respect in the
voice of the ape-man.

Erot looked horrified. He glanced at the Queen. "Shall I order the
guard to destroy the impudent savage?" he asked.

Nemone shook her head. Her countenance remained inscrutable, but a
strange light burned in her eyes. "We give them both their lives," she
said. "Set Phobeg free, and bring the other to me in the palace;" then
she rose as a sign that the games were over.

Many miles to the south of the Field of the Lions in the valley of
Onthar a lion moved restlessly just within the confines of a forest. He
paced rapidly first in one direction and then in another; his movements
were erratic; sometimes his nose was near the ground and, again, it was
in the air as though he were searching for something or some one. Once
he raised his head and lifted his great voice in a roar that shook the
earth and sent Manu, the monkey, fleeing through the trees with his
brothers and sisters. In the distance a bull elephant trumpeted, and
then silence fell once more upon the jungle.



                                   X

                      IN THE PALACE OF THE QUEEN


A detachment of common warriors commanded by an under-officer had
escorted Tarzan to the stadium, but he returned to the city in the
company of nobles. Several of them had clustered about him immediately
following the gesture of Nemone that had suggested to them that this
stranger might be the recipient of further royal favors.

Congratulating him upon his victory, praising his prowess, asking
innumerable questions, they followed him from the arena, and at the top
of the ramp another noble accosted him. It was Gemnon.

"The Queen has commanded me to accompany you to the city and look
after you," he explained. "This evening I am to bring you to her in
the palace; but in the meantime you will want to bathe and rest, and I
imagine that you might welcome some decent food after the prison fare
you have been eating recently."

"I shall be glad of a bath and good food," replied Tarzan, "but why
should I rest? I have been doing nothing else for several days."

"But you have just come through a terrific battle for your life!"
exclaimed Gemnon. "You must be tired."

Tarzan shrugged his broad shoulders. "Perhaps you had better look after
Phobeg instead," he replied. "It is he who needs rest; I am not tired."

Gemnon laughed. "Phobeg should consider himself lucky to be alive. If
any one looks after him it will be himself."

They were walking toward the city now. The other nobles had joined
their own parties or had dropped behind, and Gemnon and Tarzan
were alone, if two may be said to be alone who are surrounded by
a chattering mob through which bodies of armed men and lion-drawn
chariots are making their slow way. Those near Tarzan were discussing
him animatedly, but because of the nobles they kept their distance
from him. They commented upon his giant strength and the deceptive
appearance of his muscular development, the flowing symmetry of which
scarce proclaimed the titanic power of the steel thews of the lord of
the jungle.

"You are popular now," commented Gemnon.

"A few minutes ago they were screaming at Phobeg to kill me," Tarzan
reminded him.

"I am really surprised that they are so friendly," remarked Gemnon.
"You cheated them of a death--the one thing they are all hoping and
praying to see when they go to the stadium. It is for this they pay
their lepta for admission. Also, most of them lost more money betting
on Phobeg; but those who won on you should love you, for they won much;
the odds were as high as one hundred to one against you.

"It is the nobles, though, who have the greatest grievance against
you," continued Gemnon, grinning. "Several of them lost their entire
fortunes. Those closest to Nemone always have to cover her bets; and,
believing that she would bet on Phobeg, they placed large bets on
him among the audience to cover their losses to Nemone; then Nemone
insisted upon betting on you, and they had to bet more money on
Phobeg--ten million drachmas to cover Nemone's hundred thousand.
I estimate that that one small group lost close to twenty million
drachmas."

"And Nemone won ten million?" asked Tarzan.

"Yes," replied Gemnon; "which may account for the fact that you are
alive now."

"Why should I not be alive?"

"You flouted the Queen; before thousands of her people you refused to
obey her direct command. No, not even the ten million drachmas can
account for it; there is some other reason why Nemone spared you.
Perhaps she is contemplating for you a death that will give her greater
satisfaction. Knowing Nemone as I do, I cannot believe that she will
let you live; she would not be Nemone if she forgave so serious an
affront to her majesty."

"Phobeg was going to kill me," Tarzan reminded him.

"But Nemone is not Phobeg. Nemone is Queen, and--"

"And what?" asked the ape-man.

Gemnon shrugged. "I was thinking aloud, which is a bad habit for one
who enjoys life. Doubtless you may live long enough to know her better
than you do now and then you can do your own thinking--but do not do it
aloud."

"Did you lose much on Phobeg?" inquired Tarzan.

"I won; I bet on you. I met one of Erot's slaves who was going to place
some of his master's money on Phobeg; I took it all. You know I had
seen a little more of you than the other nobles and I believed that you
had a chance, but I was backing your intelligence and agility against
Phobeg's strength, stupidity, and awkwardness; even I did not dream
that you were stronger than he."

"And the odds were good?"

Gemnon smiled. "Too good to be overlooked; it was more than a
reasonable gamble. But I cannot understand Nemone; she is a great
bettor but no gambler. She always puts her money on the favorite, and
may Thoos help him if he does not win."

"A woman's intuition," suggested the ape-man.

"I think not; Nemone is too practical and calculating to act on
intuition alone; she had some other reason. What it is, none knows
but Nemone. The same mysterious motivation saved your life today or,
perhaps I should say, prolonged it."

"I am going to see her this evening," said Tarzan, "and doubtless I
shall affront her again; it seems that I have done so both times that I
have seen her."

"Do not forget that she practically sentenced you to death for the
first offense," Gemnon reminded him. "At that time she must have been
certain that Phobeg would kill you. If I were you I should not annoy
her."

When they reached the city, Gemnon took Tarzan to his own quarters in
the palace. These consisted of a bedroom and bath in addition to a
living room that was shared with another officer. Here Tarzan found the
usual decorations of weapons, shields, and mounted heads in addition
to pictures painted on leather. He saw no books, nor any other printed
matter; neither was there any sign of writing materials in the rooms.
He wanted to question Gemnon on this subject, but he found that he had
never learned any word for writing or for a written language.

The bath interested the ape-man. The tub was a coffin-like affair made
of clay and baked; the plumbing fixtures were apparently all of solid
gold. While questioning Gemnon he learned that the water was brought
from the mountains east of the city through clay pipes of considerable
size and distributed by means of pressure tanks distributed throughout
all of urban Cathne.

Gemnon summoned a slave to prepare the bath, and when Tarzan had
finished, a meal was awaiting him in the living room. While he was
eating, and Gemnon lounged near in conversation, another young noble
entered the apartment. He had a narrow face and rather unpleasant eyes,
nor was he overly cordial when Gemnon introduced him to Tarzan.

"Xerstle and I are quartered together," Gemnon explained.

"I have orders to move out," snapped Xerstle.

"Why is that?" asked Gemnon.

"To make room for your friend here," replied Xerstle sourly, and then
he went into his own room mumbling something about slaves and savages.

"He does not seem pleased," remarked Tarzan.

"But I am," replied Gemnon in a low voice. "Xerstle and I have not
gotten along well together. We have nothing in common. He is one of
Erot's friends and was elevated from nothing after Erot became Nemone's
favorite. He is the son of a foreman at the mines. If they had elevated
his father he would have been an acquisition to the nobility, for he is
a splendid man; but Xerstle is a rat--like his friend, Erot."

"I have heard something of your nobility," said Tarzan; "I understand
that there are two classes of nobles, and that one class rather looks
upon the other with contempt even though a man of the lower class may
hold a higher title than many of those in the other class."

"We do not look upon them with contempt if they are worthy men,"
replied Gemnon. "The old nobility, the Lion Men of Cathne, is
hereditary; the other is but temporary--for the lifetime of the man
who has received it as a special mark of favor from the throne. In one
respect at least it reflects greater glory on its possessor than does
hereditary nobility, as it is often the deserved reward of merit. I am
a noble by accident of birth; had I not been born a noble I might never
have become one. I am a lion man because my father was; I may own lions
because, beyond the memory of man, an ancient ancestor of mine led the
king's lions to battle."

"What did Erot do to win his patent of nobility?" inquired the ape-man.

Gemnon grimaced. "Whatever services he has rendered have been personal;
he has never served the state with distinction. If he owns any
distinction, it is that of being the prince of flatterers, the king of
sycophants."

"Your Queen seems too intelligent a woman to be duped by flattery."

"No one is, always."

"There are no sycophants among the beasts," said Tarzan.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Gemnon. "Erot is almost a beast."

"You malign the beasts. Did you ever see a lion that fawned upon
another creature to curry favor?"

"But beasts are different," argued Gemnon.

"Yes; they have left all the petty meannesses to man."

"You do not think very highly of men."

"None does who thinks, who compares them with the beasts."

"We are what we are born," rejoined Gemnon; "some are beasts, some are
men, and some are men who behave like beasts."

"But none, thank God, are beasts that behave like men," retorted
Tarzan, smiling.

Xerstle, entering from his room, interrupted their conversation. "I
have gathered my things together," he said; "I shall send a slave for
them presently." His manner was short and brusque. Gemnon merely nodded
in assent, and Xerstle departed.

"He does not seem pleased," commented the ape-man.

"May Xarator have him!" ejaculated Gemnon; "though he would serve a
better purpose as food for my lions," he added as an after-thought; "if
they would eat him."

"You own lions?" inquired Tarzan.

"Certainly," replied Gemnon. "I am a lion man and must own lions. It
is a caste obligation. Each lion man must own lions of war to fight in
the service of the Queen. I have five. In times of peace I use them for
hunting and racing. Only royalty and the lion men may own lions."

The sun was setting behind the mountains that rimmed the western edge
of the Field of the Lions as a slave entered the apartment with a
lighted cresset which he hung at the end of a chain depending from the
ceiling.

"It is time for the evening meal," announced Gemnon, rising.

"I have eaten," replied Tarzan.

"Come anyway; it may interest you to meet the other nobles of the
palace."

Tarzan arose. "Very well," he said and followed Gemnon from the
apartment.

Forty nobles were assembled in a large dining room on the main floor
of the palace as Gemnon and Tarzan entered. Tomos was there and Erot
and Xerstle; several of the others Tarzan also recognized as having
been seen by him before either in the council room or at the stadium.
A sudden silence fell upon the assemblage as he entered, as though the
men had been interrupted while discussing either him or Gemnon.

"This is Tarzan," announced Gemnon by way of introduction as he led the
ape-man to the table.

Tomos, who sat at the head of the table, did not appear pleased. Erot
was scowling; it was he who spoke first. "This table is for nobles," he
said, "not for slaves."

"By his own prowess and the grace of her majesty, the Queen, this man
is here as my guest," said Gemnon quietly. "If one of my equals takes
exception to his presence, I will be glad to discuss the matter with
swords," and then he turned to Tarzan. "Because this man sits at table
with nobles of my own rank I apologize for the inference he intended
you to draw from his words. I hope you are not offended."

"Does the jackal offend the lion?" asked the ape-man.

The meal was not a complete success socially. Erot and Xerstle
whispered together. Tomos did not speak but applied himself assiduously
to the business of eating. Several of Gemnon's friends engaged Tarzan
in conversation; and he found one or two of them agreeable, but
others were inclined to be patronizing. Possibly they would have been
surprised and their attitude toward him different had they known that
their guest was a peer of England, but then again this might have made
little impression upon them inasmuch as none of them had ever heard of
England. However, Tarzan did not enlighten them. He did not care what
they thought, and so the meal progressed with many silences.

When Tomos arose and the others were free to go, Gemnon conducted
Tarzan to the apartments of the Queen after returning to his own
apartments to don a more elaborate habergeon, helmet, and equipments.

"Do not forget to kneel when we enter the presence of Nemone,"
cautioned Gemnon, "and do not speak until she addresses you."

A noble received them in a small anteroom where he left them while
he went to announce their presence to the Queen, and as they waited
Gemnon's eyes watched the tall stranger standing quietly near him.

"Have you no nerves?" he asked presently.

"What do you mean?" demanded the ape-man.

"I have seen the bravest warriors tremble who had been summoned before
Nemone," explained his companion.

"I have never trembled," replied Tarzan. "How is it done?"

"Perhaps Nemone will teach you to tremble."

"Perhaps, but why should I tremble to go where a jackal does not
tremble to go?"

"I do not understand what you mean by that," said Gemnon, puzzled.

"Erot is in there."

Gemnon grinned. "But how do you know that?" he asked.

"I know," said Tarzan; he did not think it necessary to explain that
when the noble had opened the door his sensitive nostrils had caught
the scent spoor of the Queen's favorite.

"I hope not," said Gemnon, an expression of concern upon his
countenance. "If he is there this may be a trap from which you will
never come out alive."

"One might fear the Queen," replied Tarzan, "but not the jackal."

"It is the Queen of whom I was thinking."

The noble returned to the anteroom. He nodded to Tarzan. "Her majesty
will receive you now," he said. "You may go, Gemnon; your attendance
will not be required." Then he turned to the ape-man once more. "When
I open the door and announce you, enter the room and kneel. Remain
kneeling until the Queen tells you to arise, and do not speak until
after her majesty addresses you. Do you hear?"

"I hear," replied Tarzan. "Open the door!"

Gemnon, just leaving the anteroom by another doorway, heard and smiled;
but the noble did not smile. He frowned. The bronzed giant had spoken
to him in a tone of command, but the noble did not know what to do
about it; so he opened the door. But he got some revenge, or at least
he thought that he did.

"The slave, Tarzan!" he announced in a loud voice.

The lord of the jungle stepped into the adjoining chamber, crossed to
the center of it, and stood erect, silently regarding Nemone. He did
not kneel. Erot was there standing at the foot of a couch upon which
the Queen reclined upon fat pillows. The Queen regarded Tarzan from her
deep eyes without any change of expression, but Erot scowled angrily.

"Kneel, you fool!" he commanded.

"Silence!" admonished Nemone. "It is I who give commands."

Erot flushed and fingered the golden hilt of his sword. Tarzan neither
spoke nor moved nor took his eyes from the eyes of Nemone. Though he
had thought her beautiful before, he realized now that she was even
more gorgeous than he had believed it possible for any woman to be.

"I shall not need you again tonight, Erot," said Nemone; "you may go
now."

Now Erot paled and then turned fiery red. He started to speak but
thought better of it; then he backed to the doorway, executed a bow
that brought him to one knee, arose, and departed.

As Tarzan had crossed the threshold his observing eyes had noted every
detail of the room's interior almost in a single, sweeping glance. The
chamber was not large, but it was magnificent in its conception and its
appointments. Columns of solid gold supported the ceiling, the walls
were tiled with ivory, the floor a mosaic of colored stones upon which
were scattered rugs of colored stuff and the skins of animals, among
which was one that attracted the ape-man's instant attention--the skin
of a man tanned with the head on.

On the walls were paintings, for the most part very crude, and the
usual array of heads of animals and men, and at one end of the room a
great lion was chained between two of the golden Doric columns. He was
a very large lion with a tuft of white hair in his mane directly in the
center of the back of his neck. From the instant that Tarzan entered
the room the lion eyed him malevolently, and Erot had scarcely passed
out and closed the door behind him when the beast sprang to his feet
with a terrific roar and leaped at the ape-man. The chains stopped
him and he dropped down, growling.

"Belthar does not like you," said Nemone who had remained unmoved when
the beast sprang. She noticed, too, that Tarzan had not started nor
given any other indication that he had heard the lion or seen him; and
she was pleased.

"He but reflects the attitude of all Cathne," replied Tarzan.

"That is not true," contradicted Nemone.

"No?"

"_I_ like you." Nemone's voice was low and caressing. "You defied
me before my people at the stadium today, but I did not have you
destroyed. Do you suppose that I should have permitted you to live if I
had not liked you? You do not kneel to me. No one else in the world has
ever refused to do that and lived. I have never seen a man like you. I
do not understand you. I am beginning to think that I do not understand
myself. The leopard does not become a sheep in a few hours, yet it
seems to me that I have changed as much as that since I first saw you;
but that is not solely because I like you; I think that it is more
because there is something mysterious about you that I cannot fathom.
You have piqued my curiosity."

"And when that is satisfied you will kill me, perhaps?" asked Tarzan, a
half smile curving his lip.

"Perhaps," admitted Nemone with a low laugh. "Come here and sit down
beside me; I want to talk with you; I want to know more about you."

"I shall see that you do not learn too much," Tarzan assured her as
he crossed to the couch and seated himself facing her, while Belthar
growled and strained at his chains.

"In your own country you are no slave," said Nemone; "but I do not need
to ask that; your every act has proved it. Perhaps you are a king?"

Tarzan shook his head. "I am Tarzan," he said, as though that explained
everything, setting him above kings.

"Are you a lion man? You _must_ be," insisted the Queen.

"It would not make me better nor worse; so what difference does it
make? You might make Erot a king, but he would still be Erot."

A sudden frown darkened Nemone's countenance. "What do you mean by
that?" she demanded. There was a suggestion of anger in her tone.

"I mean that a title of nobility does not make a man noble, that you
may call a jackal a lion; but he will still be a jackal."

"Do you not know that I am supposed to be very fond of Erot," she
demanded, "or that you may drive my patience too far?"

Tarzan shrugged. "You show execrable taste."

Nemone sat up very straight. Her eyes flashed. "I should have you
killed!" she cried. Tarzan said nothing. He just kept his eyes on hers.
She could not tell whether or not he was laughing at her. Finally she
sank back on her pillows with a gesture of resignation. "What is the
use?" she demanded. "You probably would not let me get any satisfaction
from killing you anyway, and by this time I should be accustomed to
being affronted."

"What you are not accustomed to is hearing the truth. Everyone is
afraid of you. The reason you are interested in me is because I am not.
It might do you good to hear the truth more often."

"For instance?"

"I am not going to undertake the thankless job of regenerating
royalty," Tarzan assured her with a laugh.

"Let us stop quarreling. Nemone forgives you."

"I do not quarrel," said Tarzan; "only the weak and the wrong quarrel."

"Now answer my question. Are you a lion man in your own country?"

"I am a noble," replied the ape-man, "but I can tell you that that
means little; a ditch digger may become a noble if he control enough
votes, or a rich brewer if he subscribe a large amount of money to the
political party in power."

"And which were you," demanded Nemone, "a ditch digger or a rich
brewer?"

"Neither," laughed Tarzan.

"Then why are you a noble?" insisted the Queen.

"For even less reason than either of those," admitted the ape-man. "I
am a noble through no merit of my own but by an accident of birth; my
family for many generations has been noble."

"Ah!" exclaimed Nemone. "It is just as I thought; you _are_ a lion man!"

"And what of it?" demanded Tarzan.

"It simplifies matters," she explained, but she did not amplify the
explanation nor did Tarzan either understand or inquire as to its
implication. As a matter of fact he was not greatly interested in the
subject.

Nemone extended a hand and laid it on his, a soft, warm hand that
trembled just a little. "I am going to give you your freedom," she
said, "but on one condition."

"And what is that?" asked the ape-man.

"That you remain here, that you do not try to leave Onthar--or me."
Her voice was eager and just a little husky, as though she spoke under
suppressed emotion.

Tarzan remained silent. He would not promise, and so he did not speak.
He realized, too, how easy it would be to remain if Nemone bid one do
so. She fascinated him; she seemed to exercise a subtle influence,
mysterious, hypnotic; yet he was determined to make no promise.

"I will make you a noble of Cathne," whispered Nemone. She was sitting
erect now, her face close to Tarzan's. He could feel the warmth of her
body close to his; the aura of some exotic scent was in his nostrils;
her fingers closed upon his arm with a fierceness that hurt. "I will
have made for you helmets of gold and habergeons of ivory, the most
magnificent in Cathne; I will give you lions, fifty, a hundred; you
shall be the richest, the most powerful noble of my court!"

The lord of the jungle felt weak beneath the spell of her burning eyes.
"I do not want _such_ things," he said.

Her soft arm crept up about his neck. A tender light, that was new to
them, welled in the eyes of Nemone, the Queen of Cathne. "Tarzan!" she
whispered.

And then a door at the far end of the chamber opened and a negress
entered. She had been very tall, but now she was old and bent; her
scraggly wool was scant and white. Her withered lips were twisted into
something that might have been either a snarl or a grin, revealing
her toothless gums. She stood in the doorway leaning upon a staff and
shaking her head, an ancient, palsied hag.

At the interruption Nemone straightened and looked around. The
expression that had transformed and softened her countenance was swept
away by a sudden wave of rage, inarticulate but no less terrible.

The old hag tapped upon the floor with her staff; her head nodded
ceaselessly like that of some grotesque and horrible doll, and her lips
were still contorted in what Tarzan realized now was no smile but a
hideous snarl. "Come!" she cackled. "Come! Come! Come!"

Nemone sprang to her feet and faced the woman. "M'duze!" she screamed.
"I could kill you! I could tear you to pieces! Get out of here!"

But the old woman only tapped with her staff and cackled, "Come! Come!
Come!"

Slowly Nemone approached her. As one drawn by an invisible and
irresistible power the Queen crossed the chamber, the old hag stepped
aside, and the Queen passed on through the doorway into the darkness
of a corridor beyond. The old woman turned her eyes upon Tarzan, and,
snarling, backed through the doorway after Nemone. Noiselessly the door
closed behind them.

Tarzan had arisen as Nemone arose. For an instant he hesitated and then
took a step toward the doorway in pursuit of the Queen and the old hag;
then he heard a door open and a step behind him, and turned to see the
noble who had ushered him into Nemone's presence standing just within
the threshold.

"You may return to the quarters of Gemnon," announced the noble
politely.

Tarzan shook himself as might a lion; he drew a palm across his eyes
as one whose vision has been clouded by a mist; then he drew a deep
sigh and moved toward the doorway as the noble stepped aside to let him
pass, but whether it was a sigh of relief or regret, who may say?

As the lord of the jungle passed out of the chamber, Belthar sprang to
the ends of his chains with a thunderous roar.



                                  XI

                          THE LIONS OF CATHNE


When Gemnon entered the living room of their quarters the morning after
Tarzan's audience with Nemone, he found the ape-man standing by the
window looking out over the palace grounds.

"I am glad to see you here this morning," said the Cathnean.

"And surprised, perhaps," suggested the lord of the jungle.

"I should not have been surprised had you never returned," replied
Gemnon. "How did she receive you? And Erot? I suppose he was glad to
have you there!"

Tarzan smiled. "He did not appear to be, but it did not matter much as
the Queen sent him away immediately."

"And you were alone with her all evening?" Gemnon appeared incredulous.

"Belthar and I," Tarzan corrected him. "Belthar does not seem to like
me any better than Erot does."

"Yes, Belthar would be there," commented Gemnon. "She usually has him
chained near her. But do not be offended if he does not like you;
Belthar likes no one. Perhaps I should qualify that by saying that
he likes no one alive, for he is very fond of dead men. Belthar is a
man-eater. How did Nemone treat you?"

"She was gracious," Tarzan assured him, "and that, too, notwithstanding
the fact that the first thing that I did offended her royal majesty."

"And what was that?" demanded Gemnon.

"I remained standing when I should have kneeled," explained Tarzan.

"But I told you to kneel," exclaimed Gemnon.

"So did the noble at the door."

"And you forgot?"

"No."

"You refused to kneel? and she did not have you destroyed! It is
incredible."

"But it is true, and she offered to make me a noble and give me a
hundred lions."

Gemnon shook his head. "What enchantment have you worked to so change
Nemone?"

"None; it was I who was under a spell. I have told you these things
because I do not understand them. You are the only friend I have
in Cathne, and I come to you for an explanation of much that was
mysterious in my visit to the Queen last night; I doubt that I or
another can ever understand the woman herself. She can be tender or
terrible, weak or strong within the span of a dozen seconds. One moment
she is the autocrat, the next the obedient vassal of a slave."

"Ah!" exclaimed Gemnon; "so you saw M'duze! I'll warrant she was none
too cordial."

"No," admitted the ape-man. "As a matter of fact she did not pay any
attention to me; she just ordered Nemone out of the room, and Nemone
went. The remarkable feature of the occurrence lies in the fact that,
though the Queen did not want to leave and was very angry about it, she
obeyed the old black woman meekly."

"There are many legends surrounding M'duze," said Gemnon; "but there
is one that is whispered more often than the others, though you may
rest assured that it is only whispered and, at that, only among trusted
friends.

"M'duze has been a slave in the royal family since the days of Nemone's
grandfather; she was only a child then, a few years older than the
King's son, Nemone's father. The oldsters recall that she was a
fine-looking young negress, and the legend that is only whispered is
that Nemone is her daughter.

"About a year after Nemone was born, in the tenth year of her father's
reign, the Queen died under peculiar and suspicious circumstances just
before she was to have been confined. The child, a son, was born just
before the Queen expired. He was named Alextar, and he still lives."

"Then why is he not king?" demanded Tarzan.

"That is a long story of mystery and court intrigue and murder,
perhaps, of which more is surmised than is actually known by more than
two now living. Perhaps Nemone knows, but that is doubtful though she
must guess close to the truth.

"Immediately following the death of the Queen the influence of M'duze
increased and became more apparent. M'duze favored Tomos, a noble of
little or no importance at the time; and from that day the influence
and power of Tomos grew. Then, about a year after the death of the
Queen, the King died. It was so obvious that he had been poisoned that
a revolt of the nobles was barely averted; but Tomos, guided by M'duze,
conciliated them by fixing the guilt upon a slave woman of whom M'duze
was jealous and executing her.

"For ten years Tomos ruled as regent for the boy, Alextar. During
this time he had, quite naturally, established his own following in
important positions in the palace and in the council. Alextar was
adjudged insane and imprisoned in the temple; Nemone, at the age of
twelve, was crowned Queen of Cathne.

"Erot is a creature of M'duze and Tomos, a situation that has produced
a _contretemps_ that would be amusing were it not so tragic. Tomos
wishes to marry Nemone, but M'duze will not permit it, and, if another
theory is correct, her objection is well grounded. This theory is that
Tomos, and not the old king, is the father of Nemone. M'duze wishes
Nemone to marry Erot, but Erot is not a lion man, and, so far, the
Queen has refused to break this ancient custom that requires the ruler
to marry into this highest class of Cathneans.

"M'duze is insistent upon the marriage because she can control Erot;
and she discourages any interest which Nemone may manifest in other
men, which undoubtedly accounts for her having interrupted the Queen's
visit with you.

"You may rest assured that M'duze is your enemy, and it may be of value
to you to recall that whoever has stood in the old hag's path has died
a violent death. Beware of M'duze and Tomos and Erot; and, as a friend,
I may say to you in confidence, beware of Nemone, also. And now let
us forget the cruel and sordid side of Cathne and go for that walk I
promised you for this morning that you may see the beauty of the city
and the riches of her citizens."

Along avenues bordered by old trees Gemnon led Tarzan between the low,
white and gold homes of nobles, glimpses of which were discernible
only occasionally through grilled gateways in the walls that enclosed
their spacious grounds. For a mile they walked along the stone-flagged
street. Passing nobles greeted Gemnon, some nodding to his companion;
artizans, tradesmen, and slaves stopped to stare at the strange,
bronzed giant who had overthrown the strongest man in Cathne.

Then they came to a high wall that separated this section of the city
from the next. Massive gates, swung wide now and guarded by warriors,
opened into a portion of the city inhabited by better class artizans
and tradesmen. Their grounds were less spacious, their houses smaller
and plainer; but evidences of prosperity and even affluence were
apparent everywhere.

Beyond this was a meaner district, yet even here all was orderly and
neat, nor was there any sign of abject poverty in either the people
or their homes. Here, as in the other portions of the city, they
occasionally met a tame lion either wandering about or lying before the
gate of its master's grounds.

Presently the ape-man's attention was attracted by a lion a short
distance ahead of them; the beast was lying on the body of a man which
it was devouring.

"Your streets do not seem to be entirely safe for pedestrians,"
commented the lord of the jungle, indicating the feeding lion with a
nod of the head.

Gemnon laughed. "You notice that the pedestrians do not seem to be much
concerned," he replied, calling attention to the people passing to and
fro past the lion and its prey, merely turning aside enough to avoid
them. "The lions must eat."

"Do they kill many of your citizens?"

"Very few. The man you see there died, and his corpse was thrown into
the street for the lions. The lion did not kill him. You see he is
naked; that shows that he was dead before the lion got him. When a
person dies, if there be no one who can or will pay for a funeral
_cortège_, the body is disposed of in this way if not diseased; those
who die of disease and those whose relatives can afford a funeral
_cortège_ find their last resting place in Xarator, though there are
also many of the latter that are thrown to the lions by preference.
You know we think a great deal of lions here in Cathne, and it is no
disgrace but rather the contrary to be devoured by one. You see, our
god is a lion."

"Do the lions eat human flesh exclusively?"

"No. We hunt sheep, goats, and elephants in Thenar to provide them
with food when there is not enough human flesh to keep them well fed,
for we must keep them from hunger if we are to prevent them turning
man-eaters."

"Then they never kill men for food?"

"Oh, yes, occasionally; but a lion that develops that habit is
destroyed; and, after all, only a few old pets are turned loose in the
streets. There are about five hundred lions inside the city, and all
but a few of these are kept in enclosures on their owners' property.
The best racing and hunting lions are kept in private stables.

"The Queen has fully three hundred full-grown males; these are the war
lions. Some of the Queen's lions are trained for racing and some for
hunting; she likes to hunt, and now that the rainy season is over the
hunting lions of Nemone will doubtless soon be in the field."

"Where do you get all these lions?" asked the ape-man.

"We raise them ourselves," explained Gemnon. "Outside the city is a
breeding plant where the females are kept. It is maintained by Nemone,
and each lion man who owns females pays a stipulated sum for their
keep. We raise a great many lions, for there are many killed each year
in hunting, during raids, and in war. You see, we hunt elephants with
them; and in these hunts many lions are killed. The Athneans also kill
a number each year when we take our lions into Thenar to hunt or raid,
and quite a few escape. Most of these are still running wild in the
valley or in Thenar, and there are some wild lions that have come in
from the mountains. All of these are very ferocious."

As they talked they continued on toward the center of the city until
they came to a large square that was bounded on all sides by shops.
Here were many people. All classes from nobles to slaves mingled before
the shops and in the great open square of the market place. There were
lions held by slaves who were exhibiting them for sale for their noble
masters who dickered with prospective purchasers, other nobles.

Near the lion market was the slave block; and as slaves, unlike lions,
might be owned by anyone, there was brisk bidding on the part of many
wishing to buy. A huge, black Galla was on the block as Tarzan and
Gemnon paused to watch the scene. The man was entirely naked that the
buyers might examine him for blemishes; his expression was one of
unconcern ordinarily, though occasionally he shot a venomous glance at
the owner who was expatiating upon his virtues.

"For all the interest he shows," remarked Tarzan, "one might think
that being sold like a piece of merchandise or a bullock was a daily
occurrence in his life."

"Not quite daily," replied Gemnon, "but no novelty. He has been sold
many times. I know him well; I used to own him."

"Look at him!" shouted the seller. "Look at those arms; look at those
legs; look at that back! He is as strong as an elephant, and not a
blemish on him. Sound as a lion's tooth he is; never ill a day in his
life. And docile! a child can handle him."

"He is so refractory that no one can handle him," commented Gemnon in
a whisper to the ape-man. "That is the reason I had to get rid of him;
that is the reason he is up for sale so often."

"There seem to be plenty of customers interested in him," observed
Tarzan.

"Do you see that slave in the red tunic?" asked Gemnon. "He belongs to
Xerstle, and he is bidding on that fellow. He knows all about him, too;
he knew him when the man belonged to me."

"Then why does he want to buy him?" asked the ape-man.

"I do not know, but there are other uses to which a slave may be put
than labor. Xerstle may not care what sort of a disposition the fellow
has or even whether he will work. If he owned lions I might think that
he was buying the fellow for lion food as he will probably go cheap."

It was Xerstle's slave who bought the Galla as Tarzan and Gemnon
moved on to look at the goods displayed in the shops. There were many
articles of leather, wood, ivory, or gold; there were dagger-swords,
spears, shields, habergeons, helmets, and sandals. One shop displayed
nothing but articles of apparel for women; another, perfumes and
incense; there were jewelry shops, vegetable shops, and meat shops. The
last displayed dried meats and fish and carcasses of goats and sheep.
The fronts of these shops were heavily barred to prevent passing lions
from raiding them, Gemnon explained.

Wherever Tarzan went he attracted attention; and a small crowd always
followed him, for he had been recognized the moment that he had entered
the market place. Boys and girls clustered about him gazing at him
admiringly, and men and women who had been at the stadium the previous
day told those who had not how this stranger giant had lifted Phobeg
above his head and hurled him up among the audience.

"Let's get out of here," suggested the lord of the jungle; "I do not
like crowds."

"Suppose we go back to the palace and look at the Queen's lions," said
Gemnon.

"I would rather look at lions than people," Tarzan assured him.

The war lions of Cathne were kept in stables within the royal grounds
at a considerable distance from the palace. The building was of stone
neatly laid and painted white; in it each lion had his separate cage;
and outside were yards surrounded by high stone walls near the tops of
which pointed sticks, set close together and inclined downward on the
inside of the walls, kept the lions from escaping. In these yards the
lions exercised themselves; there was another, larger arena where they
were trained by a corps of keepers under the supervision of nobles;
here the racing lions were broken to harness and the hunting lions
taught to obey the commands of the hunter, to trail, to charge, to
retrieve.

As Tarzan entered the stable a familiar scent spoor impinged upon his
nostrils, "Belthar is here," he remarked to Gemnon.

"It is possible," replied the noble, "but I don't understand how you
know it."

As they were walking along in front of the cages inspecting the lions
that were inside, Gemnon, who was in advance, suddenly halted. "How
do you do it?" he demanded. "Last night you knew that Erot was with
Nemone, though you could not see him and no one could have informed
you; and now you knew that Belthar was here, and, sure enough, he is!"

Tarzan approached and stood beside Gemnon, and the instant that
Belthar's eyes fell upon him the beast leaped against the bars of his
cage in an effort to seize the ape-man, at the same time voicing an
angry roar that shook the building.

Instantly keepers came running to the spot, certain that something had
gone amiss; but Gemnon assured them that it was only Belthar exhibiting
his bad temper.

"He does not like me," said Tarzan.

"If he ever got you, he would make short work of you," said a head
keeper.

"It is evident that he would like to," replied the ape-man.

"He is a bad one and a man-killer," said Gemnon after the keepers had
departed, "but Nemone will not have him destroyed. Occasionally he
is loosed in the palace arena with someone who has incurred Nemone's
disfavor; thus she derives pleasure from the sufferings of the culprit.

"Formerly he was her best hunting lion, but the last time he was used
he killed four men and nearly escaped. He has already eaten three
keepers who ventured into the arena with him, and he will eat more
before good fortune rids us of him.

"Nemone is supposed to entertain a superstition that in some peculiar
way her life and the life of Belthar are linked by some mysterious,
supernatural bond and that when one dies the other must die. Naturally,
under the circumstances, it is neither politic nor safe to suggest
that she destroy the old devil. It is odd that he has conceived such a
violent dislike for you."

"I have met lions before which did not like me," said Tarzan.

"May you never meet Belthar in the open, my friend!"



                                  XII

                        THE MAN IN THE LION PIT


As Tarzan and Gemnon turned away from Belthar's cage a slave approached
the ape-man and addressed him. "Nemone, the Queen, commands your
presence immediately," he said; "you are to come to the ivory room;
the noble Gemnon will wait in the anteroom. These are the commands of
Nemone, the Queen."

"What now? I wonder," remarked Tarzan as they walked through the royal
grounds toward the palace.

"No one ever knows why he is summoned to an audience with Nemone until
he gets there," commented Gemnon; "one may be going to receive an
honor or hear his death sentence. Nemone is capricious. She is always
bored and always seeking relief from her boredom. Oftentimes she finds
strange avenues of escape that makes one wonder if her mind--but no!
such thoughts may not even be whispered among friends."

When Tarzan presented himself he was immediately admitted to the
ivory room, where he found Nemone and Erot much as he had found them
the preceding night. Nemone greeted him with a smile that was almost
pathetically eager; but Erot only scowled darkly, making no effort to
conceal his hatred.

"We are having a diversion this morning," Nemone explained, "and we
summoned you and Gemnon to enjoy it with us. A party raiding in Thenar
a day or so ago captured an Athnean noble; we are going to have some
sport with him this morning."

Tarzan nodded. He did not understand what she meant, and he was not
particularly interested. He was thinking of M'duze and the night
before; wondering what was in the mind of the strange, fascinating
woman before him.

Nemone turned to Erot. "Go and tell them we are ready," she directed,
"and ascertain if all is in readiness for us."

Erot flushed and backed toward the door, still scowling. "And you need
not hurry," added the Queen; "we are not impatient to witness the
entertainment. Let them take their time, and be sure to see that all is
well ordered."

"It shall be as the Queen commands," replied Erot in a surly tone.

When the door had closed behind him, Nemone motioned Tarzan to a seat
upon the couch. "I am afraid that Erot does not like you," she said,
smiling. "He is furious that you do not kneel to me, and that I do not
compel you to do so. I really do not know, myself, why I do not; but I
guess why. Have you not, perhaps, guessed why, too?"

"There might be two reasons, either of which would be sufficient,"
replied the ape-man.

"And what are they? I have been curious to know how you explained it."

"Consideration of the customs of a stranger and courtesy to a guest,"
suggested Tarzan.

Nemone considered for a moment. "Yes," she admitted, "either is a
fairly good reason, but neither is really in keeping with the customs
of the court of Nemone. And then they are practically the same thing;
so they constitute only one reason. Is there not another?"

"Yes," replied Tarzan; "there is an even better one; the one which
probably influences you to overlook my dereliction."

"And what is it?"

"The fact that you cannot make me kneel."

A hard look flashed in the Queen's eyes; it was not the answer she had
been hoping for. Tarzan's eyes did not leave hers; she saw amusement in
them. "Oh, why do I endure it!" she cried, and with the query her anger
melted. "You should not try to make it so hard for me to be nice to
you," she said almost appealingly. "Why do you not meet me halfway? Why
are you not nice to me, Tarzan?"

"I wish to be nice to you, Nemone," he replied; "but not at the price
of my self-respect; but that is not the only reason why I shall never
kneel to you."

"What is the other reason?" she demanded.

"That I wish you to like me; you would not like me if I cringed to you."

"Perhaps you are right," she admitted musingly. "Everyone cringes,
until the sight of it disgusts me; yet I am angry when they do not
cringe. Why is that?"

"You will be offended if I tell you," warned the ape-man.

"In the past two days I have become accustomed to being offended," she
replied with a grimace of resignation; "so you might as well tell me."

"You are angry if they do not cringe, because you are not quite sure of
yourself. You wish this outward evidence of their subservience that you
may be constantly reassured that you are Queen of Cathne."

"Who says that I am not Queen of Cathne?" she demanded, instantly on
the defensive. "Who says that will find that I am and that I have the
power of life and death. If I chose, I could have you destroyed in an
instant."

"You do not impress me," said Tarzan. "I have not said that you are
not Queen of Cathne, only that your manner may often suggest your own
doubts. A queen should be so sure of herself that she can always afford
to be gracious and merciful."

For a while Nemone sat in silence, evidently pondering the thought that
Tarzan had suggested. "They would not understand," she said at last;
"if I were gracious and merciful they would think me weak; then they
would take advantage of me; and eventually they would destroy me. You
do not know them. But you are different; I can be gracious and merciful
to you and you will never try to take advantage of my kindness; you
will not misunderstand it.

"Oh, Tarzan, I wish that you would promise to remain in Cathne. If
you will, there is nothing that you may not have from Nemone. I would
build you a palace second only to my own. I would be very good to you;
we--you could be very happy here."

The ape-man shook his head. "Tarzan can be happy in the jungle only."

Nemone leaned close to him; she seized him fiercely by the shoulders.
"I will make you happy here," she whispered passionately. "You do not
know Nemone. Wait! The time will come when you will want to stay--for
me!"

"Erot and M'duze and Tomos may think differently," Tarzan reminded her.

"I hate them!" cried Nemone. "If they interfere this time, I shall
kill them all; this time I shall have my own way; she shall not rob
me of all happiness. But do not speak of her; never speak her name to
me again. And as for Erot," she snapped her fingers. "I crush a worm
beneath my sandal, and no one misses it. No one would miss Erot, least
of all I; I have long been tired of him. He is a stupid, egotistical
fool; but he is better than nothing."

The door opened and Erot entered unceremoniously; he kneeled, but the
act was nearer a gesture than an accomplished fact. Nemone flashed an
angry look at him.

"Before you enter our presence," she said coldly, "see to it that you
are properly announced and that we have expressed a desire to receive
you."

"But your majesty," objected Erot, "have I not been in the habit of--"

"You have gotten into bad habits," she interrupted; "see that you mend
them. Is the diversion arranged?"

"All is in readiness, your majesty," replied the crestfallen Erot.

"Come, then!" directed Nemone, motioning Tarzan to follow her.

In the anteroom they found Gemnon waiting, and the Queen bid him
accompany them. Preceded and followed by armed guards, the three passed
along several corridors and through a number of rooms, then up a
stairway to the second floor of the palace. Here they were conducted to
a balcony overlooking a small enclosed court. The windows opening onto
this court from the first story of the building were heavily barred;
and from just below the top of the parapet, behind which the Queen
and her party sat, sharpened stakes protruded, giving the court the
appearance of a miniature arena for wild animals.

As Tarzan looked down into the courtyard, wondering a little what the
nature of the diversion was to be, a door at one end swung open and a
young lion stepped out into the sunlight, blinking his eyes and looking
about. When he saw those on the balcony looking down at him, he growled.

"He is going to make a good lion," remarked Nemone. "From a cub, he has
always been vicious."

"What is he doing in here?" asked Tarzan, "or what is he going to do?"

"He is going to entertain us," replied Nemone. "Presently an enemy
of Cathne will be turned into the pit with him, the Athnean who was
captured in Thenar."

"And if he kills the lion you will give him his liberty?" demanded
Tarzan.

Nemone laughed. "I promise that I will, but he will not kill the lion."

"He might," said Tarzan; "men have killed lions before."

"With their bare hands?" asked Nemone.

"You mean the man will not be armed?" demanded Tarzan incredulously.

"Why, of course not," exclaimed Nemone. "He is not being put in there
to kill or wound a fine young lion but to be killed."

"And he has no chance then! That is not sport; it is murder!"

"Perhaps you would like to go down and defend him," sneered Erot. "The
Queen would give the fellow his liberty if he had a champion who would
kill the lion, for that is the custom."

"It is a custom that is without a precedent since I have been Queen,"
said Nemone. "It is true that it is a law of the arena, but I have yet
to see a champion volunteer to take the risk."

The lion paced across the courtyard and stood directly beneath the
balcony, glaring up at them. He was a splendid beast, young but
full-grown.

"He is going to be a mean customer," remarked Gemnon.

"He already is," rejoined the Queen. "I was going to make a racing
lion of him, but after he killed a couple of trainers I decided that
he would make a better hunting lion for grand hunts. There is the
Athnean." She pointed down into the courtyard. "He is a fine-looking
young fellow."

Tarzan glanced at the stalwart figure in ivory standing upon the
opposite side of the small arena bravely awaiting its fate; then the
lion turned its head slowly in the direction of the prey it had not yet
seen. At the same instant Tarzan seized the hilt of Erot's dagger-like
sword, tore the weapon from its sheath, and, stepping to the top of the
parapet, leaped for the lion below.

So quickly and so silently had he moved that none was aware of his
intent until it had been accomplished. Gemnon voiced an ejaculation of
astonishment; Erot, of relief; while Nemone cried out in genuine terror
and alarm. Leaning over the parapet, the Queen saw the lion struggling
to tear the body that had crushed it to the stone flagging or escape
from beneath it. The horrid growls of the beast reverberated in the
narrow confines of the pit, and mingled with them were the growls of
the beast-man on its back. One bronzed arm was about the maned neck of
the carnivore, two powerful legs were locked around its middle, and
the sharp point of Erot's sword was awaiting the opportune instant to
plunge into the savage heart. The Athnean was running toward the two
embattled beasts.

"By Thoos!" exclaimed Nemone. "If the lion kills him, I will have it
torn limb from limb. It must not kill him! Go down there, Erot, and
help him; go, Gemnon!"

Gemnon did not wait, but springing to the parapet, he lowered himself
by the stakes and dropped into the courtyard. Erot hung back. "Let him
take care of himself," he grumbled.

Nemone turned to the guard standing behind her. She was white with
apprehension because of Tarzan and with rage and disgust at Erot.
"Throw him into the pit!" she commanded, pointing at the cringing
favorite; but Erot did not wait to be thrown, and a moment later he had
followed Gemnon to the stone flagging of the courtyard.

Neither Erot nor Gemnon nor the man from Athne were needed to save
Tarzan from the lion, for already he had sunk the sword into the tawny
side. Twice again the point drove into the wild heart before the
roaring beast collapsed upon the white stones, and its great voice was
stilled forever.

Then Tarzan rose to his feet. For a moment the men about him, the Queen
leaning across the parapet above, the city of gold, all were forgotten.
Here was no English lord but a beast of the jungle that had made its
kill. With one foot upon the carcass of the lion, the ape-man raised
his face toward the heavens, and from the heart of the palace of Nemone
rose the hideous victory cry of the bull ape that has killed.

Gemnon and Erot shuddered, and Nemone drew back in terror; but the
Athnean was unmoved; he had heard that savage challenge before. He
was Valthor. And now Tarzan turned; all the savagery faded from his
countenance as he stretched forth a hand and laid it on Valthor's
shoulder. "We meet again, my friend," he said.

"And once again you save my life!" exclaimed the Athnean noble.

The two men had spoken in low tones that had not carried to the ears of
Nemone or the others in the balcony; Erot, fearful that the lion might
not be dead, had run to the far end of the court, where he was cowering
behind a column; that Gemnon might have heard did not concern Tarzan,
who trusted the young Cathnean. But those others must not know that he
had known Valthor before, or immediately the old story that Tarzan had
come from Athne to assassinate Nemone would be revived and then only a
miracle could save either of them.

His hand still upon Valthor's shoulder, Tarzan spoke again rapidly in
a whisper. "They must not know that we are acquainted," he said. "They
are looking for an excuse to kill me, some of them; but as far as you
are concerned they do not have to look for any."

Nemone was now calling orders rapidly to those about her. "Go down and
let Tarzan out of the arena, Tarzan and Gemnon; send them to me. Erot
may go to his quarters until I give further orders; I do not wish to
see him again. Take the Athnean back to his cell; later I will decide
how he shall be destroyed."

She spoke in the imperious tones of one long accustomed to absolute
authority and implicit obedience, and her voice carried plainly to the
ears of the men in the arena. It brought the chill of sudden fear to
the heart of Erot, who saw his influence waning and recalled tales he
had heard of the fate of other royal favorites who had outlived their
charm. Into his cunning brain flew a score of schemes to reinstate
himself, and each was based upon the elimination of the giant that
had supplanted him in the affections of the Queen. He would fly to
Tomos, to M'duze; neither of these could afford to see the stranger
take Erot's place in the boudoir councils of Nemone and become a power
behind the throne.

Tarzan heard the Queen's commands with surprise and resentment, and,
wheeling, he looked up at her. "This man is free by your own word," he
reminded her. "If he be returned to a cell, I shall go with him, for I
have told him that he would be free."

"Do with him as you please," cried Nemone; "he is yours. Only come
up to me, Tarzan. I thought that you would be killed, and I am still
frightened."

Erot and Gemnon heard these words with vastly different emotions; each
recognized that they signalized a change in the affairs of the court of
Cathne. Gemnon anticipated the effects of a better influence injected
into the councils of Nemone, and was pleased. Erot saw the flimsy
structure of his temporary grandeur and reflected authority crumbling
to ruin. Both were astonished by this sudden revealment of a new
Nemone, whom none had ever before seen bow to the authority of another
than M'duze.

Accompanied by Gemnon and Valthor, Tarzan returned to the balcony where
Nemone, her composure regained, awaited them. For a moment, moved by
excitement and apprehension for Tarzan's safety, she had revealed a
feminine side of her character that few of her intimates might even
have suspected she possessed; but now she was the Queen again. She
surveyed Valthor haughtily and yet with interest.

"What is your name, Athnean?" she demanded.

"Valthor," he replied and added, "of the house of Xanthus."

"We know the house," remarked Nemone; "its head is a king's councillor;
a most noble house and close to the royal line in both blood and
authority."

"My father is the head of the house of Xanthus," said Valthor.

"Your head would have made a noble trophy for our walls," sighed
Nemone, "but we have given our promise that you shall be freed."

"My head would have been honored by a place among your majesty's
trophies," replied Valthor, the faintest trace of a smile upon his
lips; "but it shall have to be content to wait a more propitious event."

"We shall look forward with keen anticipation to that moment," rejoined
Nemone graciously; "but in the meantime we will arrange an escort to
return you to Athne, and hope for better fortune the next time that you
fall into our hands. Be ready then early tomorrow to return to your own
country."

"I thank your majesty," replied Valthor; "I shall be ready, and when I
go I shall carry with me, to cherish through life, the memory of the
gracious and beautiful Queen of Cathne."

"Our noble Gemnon shall be your host until tomorrow," announced Nemone.
"Take him with you now to your quarters, Gemnon, and let it be known
that he is Nemone's guest, whom none may harm."

Tarzan would have accompanied Gemnon and Valthor, but Nemone detained
him. "You will return to my apartments with me," she directed; "I wish
to talk with you."

As they walked through the palace, the Queen did not precede her
companion as the etiquette of the court demanded but moved close at
his side, looking up into his face as she talked. "I was frightened,
Tarzan," she confided. "It is not often that Nemone is frightened by
the peril of another, but when I saw you leap into the arena with the
lion my heart stood still. Why did you do it, Tarzan?"

"I was disgusted with what I saw," replied the ape-man shortly.

"Disgusted! What do you mean?"

"The cowardliness of the authority that would permit an unarmed and
utterly defenseless man to be forced into an arena with a lion,"
explained Tarzan candidly.

Nemone flushed. "You know that that authority is I," she said coldly.

"Of course I know it," replied the ape-man, "but that only renders it
the more odious."

"What do you mean?" she snapped. "Are you trying to drive me beyond my
patience? If you knew me better you would know that that is not safe,
not even for you, before whom I have already humbled myself."

"I am not seeking to try your patience," replied the ape-man quietly,
"for I am neither interested nor concerned in your powers of
self-control. I am merely shocked that one so beautiful may at the same
time be so heartless. Were you a little more human, Nemone, you would
be irresistible."

The flush faded from the Queen's face, the anger from her eyes; she
moved on in silence, her mood suddenly introspective; and when they
reached the anteroom leading to her private chambers, she halted at the
threshold of the latter and laid a hand gently upon the arm of the man
at her side.

"You are very brave," she said. "Only a very brave man would have
leaped into the arena with the lion to save a stranger; but only the
bravest of the brave could have dared to speak to Nemone as you have
spoken, for the death that the lion deals may be merciful compared
with that which Nemone deals when she has been affronted. Yet perhaps
you knew that I would forgive you. Oh, Tarzan, what magic have you
exercised to win such power over me!" She took him by the hand then and
led him toward the doorway of her chambers. "In here, alone together,
you shall teach Nemone how to be human!" As the door swung open there
was a new light in the eyes of the Queen of Cathne, a softer light than
had ever before shone in those beautiful depths; and then it faded,
to be replaced by a cold, hard glitter of bitterness and hate. Facing
them, in the center of the apartment, stood M'duze.

She stood there, bent and horrible, wagging her head and tapping the
stone floor with her staff. She spoke no word, but fixed them with her
baleful glare. As one held in the grip of a power she is unable to
resist, Nemone moved slowly toward the ancient hag, leaving Tarzan just
beyond the threshold. Slowly and silently the door closed between them.
Beyond it the ape-man heard, faintly, the tapping of the staff upon the
colored stones of the mosaic.



                                 XIII

                         ASSASSIN IN THE NIGHT


A great lion moved silently from the south across the border of Kaffa.
If he were following a trail, the heavy rain that had terminated the
wet season must have obliterated it long since; yet he moved on with a
certain assurance that betokened no sign of doubt.

Why was he there? What urge had drawn him thus, contrary to the habits
and customs of his kind, upon this long and arduous journey? Where was
he bound? What or whom did he seek? Only he, Numa, the lion, king of
beasts, knew.

In his quarters in the palace, Erot paced the floor, angry and
disconsolate. Sprawled on a bench, his feet wide apart, sat Xerstle
deep in thought. The two men were facing a crisis, and they were
terrified. Had Erot definitely fallen from the favor of the Queen,
Xerstle would be dragged down with him; of that there was no doubt.

"But there must be _something_ you can do," insisted Xerstle.

"I have seen both Tomos and M'duze," replied Erot wearily, "and they
have promised to help. It means as much to them as it does to me. But
Nemone is infatuated with this stranger. Even M'duze, who has known her
all her life, has never seen her so affected by a passion as now. Even
she feels that she may not be able to control the Queen in the face of
her mad attachment for the naked barbarian.

"None knows Nemone better than does M'duze, and I can tell you,
Xerstle, the old hag is frightened. Nemone hates her, and if the
attempted thwarting of this new passion arouses her anger sufficiently
it may sweep away the fear that the Queen has always held for M'duze,
and she will destroy her. It is this that M'duze fears. And you can
imagine how terrified old Tomos is! Without M'duze he would be lost,
for Nemone tolerates him only because M'duze demands it."

"But there must be some way," again insisted Xerstle.

"There is no way so long as this fellow, Tarzan, is able to turn
Nemone's heart to water," answered Erot. "Why, he does not even kneel
to her; and he speaks to her as one might to a naughty slave girl. By
the mane of Thoos! I believe that if he kicked her she would like it."

"But there _is_ a way!" exclaimed Xerstle in a sudden whisper.
"Listen!" and then he launched forth into a detailed explanation of his
plan. Erot sat listening to his friend, an expression of rapt interest
upon his face. A slave girl came from Xerstle's bedchamber, crossed the
living room where the two men talked, and departed into the corridor
beyond; but so engrossed were Erot and Xerstle that neither was aware
that she had come or that she had gone.

In their quarters that evening Gemnon and Tarzan partook of the final
meal of the day, for neither had enjoyed the prospect of again eating
with the other nobles. Valthor slept in the bedroom, having asked not
to be disturbed until morning.

"When you have definitely displaced Erot conditions will be different,"
explained Gemnon; "then they will fawn upon you, shower you with
attentions, and wait upon your every whim."

"That will never occur," snapped the ape-man.

"Why not?" demanded his companion. "Nemone is mad about you. There is
nothing that she would not do for you, absolutely nothing. Why, man,
you can rule Cathne if you so choose."

"But I do not choose," replied Tarzan. "Nemone may be mad, but I am
not; and even were I, I could never be mad enough to accept a position
that had once been filled by Erot. The idea disgusts me; let us talk of
something pleasant."

"Very well," consented Gemnon with a smile. "Perhaps I think you are
foolish, but I admit that I cannot help but admire your courage and
your decency.

"And now for something more pleasant! Something very much more
pleasant! I am going to take you visiting tonight. I am going to take
you to see the most beautiful girl in Cathne."

"I thought that there could be no woman in Cathne more beautiful than
the Queen," objected Tarzan.

"There would not be if Nemone knew of her," replied Gemnon, "but
fortunately she does not know; she has never seen this girl, and may
Thoos forbid that she ever does!"

"You are much interested," remarked the ape-man, smiling.

"I am in love with her," explained Gemnon simply.

"And Nemone has never seen her? I should think that a difficult
condition to maintain, for Cathne is not large; and if the girl be of
the same class as you many other nobles must know of her beauty. One
would expect such news to come quickly to the ears of Nemone."

"She is surrounded by very loyal friends, this girl of whom I speak,"
replied Gemnon. "She is Doria, the daughter of Thudos. Her father is
a very powerful noble and head of the faction which wishes to place
Alextar on the throne. Only Nemone's knowledge of his great power
preserves his life, but owing to the strained relations that exist
between Nemone and his house neither he nor members of his family are
often at court. Thus it has been easier to prevent knowledge of the
great beauty of Doria coming to Nemone."

As the two men were leaving the palace a short time later they came
unexpectedly upon Xerstle, who was most effusive in his greetings.
"Congratulations, Tarzan!" he exclaimed, halting the companions. "That
was a most noble feat you performed in the lion pit today. All the
palace is talking about it, and let me be among the first to tell you
how glad I am that you have won the confidence of our gracious and
beautiful Queen by your bravery, strength, and magnanimity."

Tarzan nodded in acknowledgment of the man's avowal and started to
move on, but Xerstle held him with a gesture. "We must see more of one
another," he continued. "I am arranging a grand hunt, and I must have
you as my guest of honor. There will be but a few of us, a most select
party; and I can assure you of good sport. When all the arrangements
are completed, I will let you know the day of the hunt; and now goodbye
and good luck to you!"

"I care nothing about him or his grand hunt," said Tarzan as he and
Gemnon continued on toward the home of Doria.

"Perhaps it would be well to accept," advised Gemnon. "That fellow and
his friends will bear watching, and if you are with them occasionally
you can watch them that much better."

Tarzan shrugged. "If I am still here, I shall go with him if you think
best."

"If you are still here!" exclaimed Gemnon. "You certainly are not
expecting to get away from Cathne, are you?"

"Why, certainly," replied Tarzan. "I may go any day, or night; there is
nothing to hold me here, and I have given no promise that I would not
escape when I wished."

Gemnon smiled a wry smile that Tarzan did not see in the semi-darkness
of the ill-lit avenue through which they were passing. "That will make
it extremely interesting for me," he remarked.

"Why?" demanded the ape-man.

"Nemone turned you over into my keeping. If you escape while I am
responsible for you she will have me destroyed."

A frown knit the brows of the lord of the jungle. "I did not know
that," he said; "but you need not worry; I shall not go until you
have been relieved of responsibility." A sudden smile lighted his
countenance. "I think I shall ask Nemone to give me over into the
keeping of Erot or Xerstle."

Gemnon chuckled. "What a story that would make!" he cried.

An occasional torch only partially dispelled the gloom beneath the
overhanging trees that bordered the avenue that led toward the palace
of Thudos. At the intersection of a narrow alleyway, beneath the
branches of a wide-spreading oak a dark figure lurked in the shadows
as Tarzan and Gemnon approached. The keen eyes of the ape-man saw and
recognized it as the figure of a man before they came close enough to
be in danger; and Tarzan was ready even though he had no suspicion that
the man's presence there was in any way concerned with him, for it is
the business of the jungle bred to be always ready, whether danger
threatens or not.

Just as the two came opposite the figure, Tarzan heard his name
whispered in a hoarse voice. He stopped. "Beware of Erot!" whispered
the voice. "Tonight!" Then the figure wheeled and lumbered into the
denser shadows of the narrow alleyway; but in the glimpse that Tarzan
got of it there was a familiar roll to the great body, just as there
had been a suggestion of familiarity in the voice.

"Now who do you suppose that is?" demanded Gemnon. "Come on! We'll
capture him and find out," and he started as though to pursue the
stranger down the alley.

Tarzan laid a restraining hand upon his shoulder. "No," he said; "it
was some one who has tried to befriend me. If he wishes to conceal his
identity, it is not for me to reveal it."

"You are right," assented Gemnon.

"And I think I would have learned no more by pursuing him than I
already know. I recognized him by his voice and his gait, and then, as
he turned to leave, a movement in the air brought his scent spoor to my
nostrils. I think I would recognize that a mile away, for it is very
strong; it always is in powerful men and beasts."

"Why was he afraid of you?" asked Gemnon.

"He was not afraid of me; he was afraid of you because you are a noble."

"He need not have been, if he is a friend of yours. I would not have
betrayed him."

"I know that, but he could not. You are a noble, and so you might be a
friend of Erot. I do not mind telling you who it was, because I know
you would not use the knowledge to harm him; but you will be surprised;
I surely was. It was Phobeg."

"No! Why should he befriend the man who defeated and humiliated him,
and almost killed him?"

"Because he did _not_ kill him. Phobeg is a simple-minded fellow, but
he is the type that would not be devoid of gratitude. He is the sort
that would bestow doglike devotion upon one who was more powerful than
he, for he worships physical prowess."

At the palace of Thudos the two men were ushered into a magnificent
apartment by a slave after the guard at the entrance had recognized
Gemnon and permitted them to pass. In the soft light of a dozen
cressets they awaited the coming of the daughter of the house to whom
the slave had carried Gemnon's ring to evidence the identity of her
caller. The richness of the furnishings of the room were scarcely
less magnificent than those Tarzan had seen in the palace of Nemone;
and again, here, were the trophies of the chase prominent among the
decorations upon the walls.

A human head, surmounted by a golden helmet, frowned down from
sightless eyes from a place of honor above the main entrance. Though
shrunken and withered in death there was still strength and majesty
in its appearance; and Tarzan gazed for some moments at it, intrigued
by the thought of all that had passed within that dry and ghastly
skull before it found its way to grace the trophies upon the palace
walls of the noble Thudos. What fierce or kindly thoughts, what hates,
what loves, what rages had been born and lived and died behind that
parchment forehead? What tales those dried and shrivelled lips might
tell could the hot blood of the fighting man give them life once more!

"A splendid trophy," commented Gemnon, attracted by his companion's
evident interest in the head. "It is the most valuable trophy in
Cathne; there is no other to equal it, and there may never be another.
That head belonged to a king of Athne. Thudos took it himself in battle
as a young man."

"I rather like the idea," said Tarzan thoughtfully. "In the world from
which I come men fill their trophy rooms with the heads of creatures
who are not their enemies, who would be their friends if man would let
them. Your most valued trophies are the heads of your enemies who have
had an equal opportunity to take your head. Yes, it is a splendid idea!"

The light fall of soft sandals upon stone announced the coming of their
hostess, and both men turned toward the doorway leading into a small
open garden from which she was coming. Tarzan saw a girl of exquisite
beauty; but whether she were more beautiful than Nemone he could not
say, there are so many things that enter into the making of a beautiful
countenance; yet he acknowledged to himself that Thudos was wise in
keeping her hidden from the Queen.

She greeted Gemnon with the sweet familiarity of an old friend, and
when Tarzan was presented her manner was cordial and unaffected, yet
always the fact that she was the daughter of Thudos seemed a part of
her.

"I saw you in the stadium," she said, and then, with a laugh, "I lost
many drachmas because of you."

"I am sorry," said Tarzan. "Perhaps had I known that you were betting
on Phobeg I should have let him kill me."

"That is an idea," exclaimed Doria, laughing. "If you fight in the
stadium again I shall tell you beforehand which man I am placing my
money on, and then I shall be sure to win."

"I see that I must make you like me so well that you will not want to
bet on my opponent."

"From what I have seen of him," interjected Gemnon, "I think Tarzan
will always be a safe bet--in an arena."

"What do you mean?" demanded the girl. "There is the suggestion of
another significance in your words."

"I am afraid my friend will not be so safe in a boudoir," laughed the
young noble.

"We have already heard that he has been more than successful," said
Doria with just the faintest note of something that might have been
disgust.

"Do not judge him too harshly," pleaded Gemnon; "he is still doing his
best to get himself destroyed."

"That should not be difficult in the palace of Nemone, though we have
already heard startling tales of his refusal to kneel before the Queen.
One who has survived that may not have as much to fear as we have
imagined," returned Doria.

"Your Queen understands why I do not kneel," explained Tarzan. "It is
through no disrespect nor boorish bravado, but because of the habits of
a lifetime and the exigencies of my existence. Had I not been commanded
to kneel, I might have knelt. I am afraid that I cannot explain the
psychology of my position so that another may understand it; but it
is plain to me that I must not bow to any authority against my will,
unless I am compelled to do so by force."

The three had spent the evening in pleasant conversation, and Gemnon
and Tarzan were about to leave, when a middle-aged man entered the
room. It was Thudos, the father of Doria. He greeted Gemnon cordially
and seemed pleased to meet Tarzan whom he immediately commenced to
question relative to the world outside the valleys of Onthar and Thenar.

Thudos was a strikingly handsome man, with strong features, an athletic
build, and eyes that were serious and stern that yet had wrinkles
at their corners that betokened much laughter. His was a face that
one might trust, for integrity, loyalty, and courage had left their
imprints plainly upon it, at least for eyes as observant as those of
the lord of the jungle.

When the two guests rose to leave again, Thudos seemed satisfied with
his appraisal of the stranger. "I am glad that Gemnon brought you," he
said. "The very fact that he did convinces me that he has confidence in
your friendship and loyalty, for, as you may already know, the position
of my house at the court of Nemone is such that we receive only assured
friends within our walls."

"I understand," replied the ape-man. He made no other reply, but both
Thudos and Doria felt that here was a man who might be trusted.

As the two men entered the avenue in front of the palace of their host,
a figure slunk into the shadow of a tree a few paces from them; and
neither saw it. Then they walked leisurely toward their apartments in
the palace, discussing the noble Thudos and his matchless daughter.

"I have been curious to ask you," said Tarzan, "how Doria dared come
to the stadium when her life is constantly in danger should her beauty
become known to the Queen?"

"She is always disguised when she goes abroad," replied Gemnon. "A few
touches by an expert hand and hollows appear in her cheeks and beneath
her eyes, her brow is wrinkled; and behold! she is no longer the most
beautiful woman in the world. Nemone would not give her a second
thought if she saw her, but still care is taken to see that Nemone does
not see her too closely even then. It is informers we fear the most.
Thudos never sells a slave who has seen Doria, and once a new slave
enters the palace walls he never leaves them again until long years of
service have proved him, and his loyalty is unquestioned.

"It is a monotonous life for Doria, the penalty she pays for beauty;
but all that we can do is hope and pray that relief will come some day
in the death of Nemone or the elevation of Alextar to the throne."

Valthor was asleep on Tarzan's couch when the ape-man entered his
bedroom. He had had little rest since his capture, and, in addition, he
was suffering from a slight wound; so Tarzan moved softly that he might
not disturb him and made no light in the room, the darkness of which
was partially dispelled by the moonlight.

Spreading some skins on the floor against the wall opposite the window,
the ape-man lay down and was soon asleep, while in the apartment above
him two men crouched in the dark beside the window that was directly
above that in Tarzan's bedroom.

For a long time they crouched there in silence. One was a large,
powerful man; the other smaller and lighter. Fully an hour passed
before either moved other than to change a cramped position for one
more comfortable; then the smaller man arose. One end of a long rope
was knotted about his body beneath his armpits; in his right hand he
carried a slim dagger-sword.

Cautiously and silently he went to the window and looked out, his
careful gaze searching the grounds below; then he sat on the sill and
swung his legs through the window. The larger man, holding the rope
firmly with both hands, braced himself. The smaller turned over on his
belly and slid out of the window. Hand over hand, the other lowered
him; his head disappeared below the sill.

Very carefully, so as to make no noise, the larger man lowered the
smaller until the feet of the latter rested on the sill of Tarzan's
bedroom window. Here the man reached in and took hold of the casing;
then he jerked twice upon the rope to acquaint his fellow with the fact
that he had reached his destination safely and the other let the rope
slip through his fingers loosely as the movements of the man below
dragged it slowly out.

The smaller man stepped gingerly to the floor inside the room. Without
hesitation he moved toward the bed, his weapon raised and ready in his
hand. He made no haste; his one purpose for the present appeared to be
the achievement of absolute silence. It was evident that he feared to
awaken the sleeper. Even when he reached the bed he stood there for a
long time searching with his eyes for the right spot to strike that the
blow might bring instant death. The assassin knew that Gemnon slept in
another bedroom across the living room; what he did not know was that
Valthor, the Athnean, lay stretched on the bed beneath his keen weapon.

As the assassin hesitated, Tarzan of the Apes opened his eyes. Though
the intruder had made no sound his mere presence in the room had
aroused the ape-man; perhaps the effluvium from his body, impinging
upon the sensitive nostrils of the sleeping beast-man, carried the same
message to the alert brain that sound would have carried.

It is said that a sleeping dog awakened by the touch of a cart wheel
reacts so quickly that he can escape harm by leaping aside before the
wheel crushes him. I do not believe this; but I am convinced that the
so-called lower animals awaken in full and complete possession of all
their faculties; not slowly, faculty by faculty, as is the case with
man. Thus awoke Tarzan, master of all his powers.

At the instant that he opened his eyes he saw the stranger in the room,
saw the dagger raised above the form of the sleeping Valthor, read the
whole story in a single glance, and in the same moment arose and leaped
upon the unsuspecting murderer who was dragged back from his victim at
the very instant that his weapon was descending.

As the two men crashed to the floor, Valthor awoke and sprang from
his cot; but by the time he had discovered what was transpiring the
would-be assassin lay dead upon the floor, and Tarzan of the Apes stood
with one foot upon the body of his kill. For an instant the ape-man
hesitated, his face upturned as the weird scream of the victorious bull
ape trembled on his lips; but then he shook his head, and only a low
growl rumbled upward from the deep chest.

Valthor had heard these growls before and was neither surprised nor
shocked. The man in the room above had heard only beasts growl, and the
sound made him hesitate and wonder. He had heard, too, the crash of the
two bodies as Tarzan had hurled the other to the floor, and while he
had not interpreted that correctly it had suggested resistance and put
him on his guard. Cautiously he stepped closer to the window and looked
out, listening.

In the room below, Tarzan of the Apes seized the corpse of the man
who had come to kill him and hurled it through the window into the
grounds beneath. The man above saw and, turning, slunk from the room
and vanished among the dark shadows of the palace corridors.



                                  XIV

                            THE GRAND HUNT


With the breaking of dawn Tarzan and Valthor arose, for the latter was
to set out upon his journey to Athne early. The previous evening a
slave had been directed to serve breakfast at daybreak, and the two men
now heard him arranging the table in the adjoining room.

"We have met again, and again we part," commented Valthor as he
fastened his sandal straps to the ivory guards that encircled his
ankles. "I wish that you were going with me to Athne, my friend."

"I would go with you were it not for the fact that Gemnon's life would
be forfeited should I leave Cathne while he is responsible for me,"
replied the ape-man, "but you may rest assured that some day I shall
pay you a visit in Athne."

"I never expected to see you alive again after we were separated by the
flood," continued Valthor, "and when I recognized you in the lion pit
I could not believe my own eyes. Four times at least have you saved my
life, Tarzan; and you may be assured of a warm welcome in the house of
my father at Athne whenever you come."

"The debt, if you feel that there was one, is wiped out," Tarzan
assured him, "since you saved my life last night."

"I saved your life! What are you talking about?" demanded Valthor. "How
did I save your life?"

"By sleeping in my bed," explained the lord of the jungle.

Valthor laughed. "A courageous, heroic act!" he mocked.

"But nevertheless it saved my life," insisted the ape-man.

"What saved whose life?" demanded a voice at the door.

"Good morning, Gemnon!" greeted Tarzan. "My compliments and
congratulations!"

"Thanks! But what about?" demanded the Cathnean.

"Upon your notable ability as a sound sleeper," explained Tarzan,
smiling.

Gemnon shook his head dubiously. "Your words are beyond me. What are
you talking about?"

"You slept last night through an attempted assassination, the killing
of the culprit, and the disposition of his body. Phobeg's warning was
no idle gossip."

"You mean that someone came here last night to kill you?"

"And almost killed Valthor instead," and then Tarzan briefly narrated
the events of the attempt upon his life.

"Had you ever seen the man before?" asked Gemnon. "Did you recognize
him?"

"I paid little attention to him," admitted Tarzan; "I threw him out of
the window; but I do not recall having seen him before."

"Was he a noble?"

"No, he was a common warrior. Perhaps, you will recognize him when you
see him."

"I shall have to have a look at him and report the matter at once,"
said Gemnon. "Nemone is going to be furious when she hears this."

"She may have instigated it herself," suggested Tarzan; "she is half
mad."

"Hush!" cautioned Gemnon. "It is death even to whisper that thought.
No, I do not believe it was Nemone; but were you to accuse Erot,
M'duze, or Tomos I could easily agree to that. I must go now, and if I
do not return before you leave, Valthor, be assured that I have enjoyed
entertaining you. It is unfortunate that we are enemies and that the
next time we meet we shall have to endeavor to take one another's head."

"It is unfortunate and foolish," replied Valthor.

"But it is the custom," Gemnon reminded him.

"Then may we never meet, for I could never take pleasure in killing
you."

"Here's to it, then," cried Gemnon, raising his hand as though it held
a drinking horn. "May we never meet again!" and with that he turned and
left them.

Tarzan and Valthor had but scarcely finished their meal when a noble
arrived to tell them that Valthor's escort was ready to depart, and a
moment later, with a brief farewell, the Athnean left.

Tarzan's liking for Valthor, combined with his curiosity to see the
city of ivory, determined him to visit the valley of Thenar before he
returned to his own country; but that is a matter apart, having nothing
to do with this story, which has seen the last of the likeable young
noble of Athne.

By Nemone's command the ape-man's weapons had been returned to him, and
he was engaged in inspecting them, looking to the points and feathers
of his arrows, his bowstring, and his grass rope, when Gemnon returned.
The Cathnean was quite evidently angry and not a little excited. This
was one of the few occasions upon which Tarzan had seen his warder
other than smiling and affable.

"I have had a bad half hour with the Queen," explained Gemnon. "I was
lucky to get away with my life. She is furious over this attempt upon
your life and blames me for neglect of duty. What am I to do? Sit on
your window sill all night?"

Tarzan laughed. "I am an embarrassment," he said lightly, "and I am
sorry; but how can I help it? It was an accident that brought me here;
it is perversity that keeps me, the perversity of a spoiled woman."

"You had better not tell her that, nor let another than me hear you say
it," Gemnon cautioned him.

"I may tell her," laughed Tarzan; "I am afraid I have never acquired
that entirely human accomplishment called diplomacy."

"She has sent me to summon you; and I warn you to exercise a little
judgment, even though you have no diplomacy. She is like a raging lion,
and whoever arouses her further will be in for a mauling."

"What does she want of me?" demanded Tarzan. "Am I to remain in this
house, caged up like a pet dog, to run at the beck of a woman?"

"She is investigating this attempt upon your life and has summoned
others to be questioned," Gemnon explained.

Gemnon led the way to a large audience chamber where the nobles of the
court were congregated before a massive throne on which the Queen sat,
her beautiful brows contracted in a frown. As Tarzan and Gemnon entered
the room, she looked up; but she did not smile. A noble advanced and
led the two men to seats near the foot of the throne.

As Tarzan glanced about the faces of those near him, he saw Tomos,
and Erot, and Xerstle. Erot was nervous; he fidgeted constantly upon
his bench; he played with his fingers and with the hilt of his sword;
occasionally he glanced appealingly up at Nemone, but if she recognized
that he was there, her expression did not acknowledge it.

"We have been awaiting you," said the Queen as Tarzan took his seat.
"It appears that you did not exert yourself to hasten in response to
our command."

Tarzan looked up at her with an amused smile. "On the contrary, your
majesty, I returned at once with the noble Gemnon," he explained
respectfully.

"We have summoned you to tell the story of what happened in your
apartment last night that resulted in the killing of a warrior." She
then turned to a noble standing at her side and whispered a few words
in his ear, whereupon the man quit the room. "You may proceed," she
said, turning again to Tarzan.

"There is little to tell," replied the ape-man, rising. "A man came to
my room to kill me, but I killed him instead."

"How did he enter your room?" demanded Nemone. "Where was Gemnon? Did
he admit the fellow?"

"Of course not," replied Tarzan. "Gemnon was asleep in his own room;
the man who would have killed me was lowered from the window of the
apartment above mine and entered through my window; there was a long
rope tied about his body."

"How did you know he came to kill you? Did he attack you?"

"Valthor, the Athnean, was sleeping in my bed; I was sleeping on the
floor. The man did not see me, for the room was dark. He went to the
bed where he thought I was sleeping. I awoke as he stood over Valthor,
his sword raised in his hand ready to strike. Then I killed him and
threw his body out of the window."

"Did you recognize him? Had you ever seen him before?" asked the Queen.

"I did not recognize him."

There was a noise at the entrance to the audience chamber that caused
Nemone to glance up. Four slaves bore a stretcher into the room and
laid it at the foot of the throne; on it was the corpse of a man.

"Is this the fellow who attempted your life?" demanded Nemone.

"It is," replied Tarzan.

She turned suddenly upon Erot. "Did you ever see this man before?" she
demanded.

Erot rose. He was white and trembled a little. "But your majesty, he is
only a common warrior," he countered; "I may have seen him often, yet
have forgotten him; that would not be strange, I see so many of them."

"And you," the Queen addressed a young noble standing near, "have you
ever seen this man before?"

"Often," replied the noble; "he was a member of the palace guard and in
my company."

"How long has he been attached to the palace?" demanded Nemone.

"Not a month, your majesty."

"And before that? Do you know anything about his prior service?"

"He was attached to the retinue of a noble, your majesty," replied the
young officer hesitantly.

"What noble?" demanded Nemone.

"Erot," replied the witness in a low voice.

The Queen looked long and searchingly at Erot. "You have a short
memory," she said presently, an undisguised sneer in her voice, "or
perhaps you have so many warriors in your retinue that you cannot
recall one who has been out of your service for a month!"

Erot was pale and shaken. He looked long at the face of the dead man
before he spoke again. "I do recall him now, your majesty, but he
does not look the same. Death has changed him; that is why I did not
recognize him immediately."

"You are lying," snapped Nemone. "There are some things about this
affair that I do not understand; what part you have had in it, I do not
know; but I am sure that you had some part, and I am going to find out
what. In the meantime you are banished from the palace; there may be
others," she looked meaningly at Tomos, "but I shall find them all out,
and when I do it will be the lion pit for the lot!"

Rising, she descended from the throne, and all knelt save Tarzan. As
she passed him on her way from the chamber, she paused and looked long
and searchingly into his eyes. "Be careful," she whispered; "your
life is in danger. I dare not see you for a while, for there is one
so desperate that not even I could protect you should you visit my
apartments again. Tell Gemnon to quit the palace and take you to his
father's house. You will be safer there, but even then far from safe.
In a few days I shall have removed the obstacles that stand between us;
until then, Tarzan, goodbye!"

The ape-man bowed, and the Queen of Cathne passed on out of the
audience chamber. The nobles rose. They drew away from Erot and
clustered about Tarzan. In disgust the ape-man drew away. "Come,
Gemnon," he said; "there is nothing to keep us here longer."

Xerstle blocked their way as they were leaving the chamber. "Everything
is ready for the grand hunt," he exclaimed, rubbing his palms together
genially. "I thought this tiresome audience would prevent our starting
today, but it is still early. The lions and the quarry are awaiting us
at the edge of the forest. Get your weapons and join me in the avenue."

Gemnon hesitated. "Who are hunting with you?" he asked.

"Just you and Tarzan and Pindes," explained Xerstle; "a small and
select company that ensures a good hunt."

"We will come," said the ape-man.

As the two returned to their quarters to get their weapons Gemnon
appeared worried. "I am not sure that it is wise to go," he said.

"And why not?" inquired Tarzan.

"This may be another trap for you."

The ape-man shrugged. "It is quite possible, but I cannot remain cooped
up in hiding. I should like to see what a grand hunt is; I have heard
the term so often since I came to Cathne. Who is Pindes? I do not
recall him."

"He was an officer of the guard when Erot became the Queen's favorite,
but through Erot he was dismissed. He is not a bad fellow but weak and
easily influenced; however, he must hate Erot, and so I think you have
nothing to fear from him."

"I have nothing to fear from anyone," Tarzan assured him.

"Perhaps you think not, but be on guard."

"I am always on guard; had I not been I should have been dead long ago."

"Your self-complacency may be your undoing," growled Gemnon testily.

Tarzan laughed. "I appreciate both danger and my own limitations, but I
cannot let fear rob me of my liberty and the pleasures of life; fear is
to be more dreaded than death. You are afraid, Erot is afraid, Nemone
is afraid; and you are all unhappy. Were I afraid, I should be unhappy
but no safer. I prefer to be simply cautious. And by the way, speaking
of caution, Nemone instructed me to tell you to take me from the palace
and keep me in your father's house. She says the palace is no safe
place for me. I really think that it is M'duze who is after me."

"M'duze and Erot and Tomos," said Gemnon; "there is a triumvirate of
greed and malice and duplicity that I should hate to have upon my
trail."

At his quarters, Gemnon gave orders that his and Tarzan's belongings be
moved to the house of his father while the two men were hunting; then
they went to the avenue where they found Xerstle and Pindes awaiting
them. The latter was a man of about thirty, rather good-looking but
with a weak face and eyes that invariably dropped from a direct gaze.
He met Tarzan with great cordiality, and as the four men walked along
the main avenue of the city toward the eastern gate he was most affable.

"You have never been on a grand hunt?" he asked Tarzan.

"No; I have no idea what the term means," replied the ape-man.

"We shall not tell you then, but shall let you see for yourself;
then you will enjoy it the more. Of course you hunt much in your own
country, I presume."

"I hunt for food only or for my enemies," replied the ape-man.

"You never hunt for pleasure?" demanded Pindes.

"I take no pleasure in killing."

"Well, you won't have to kill today," Pindes assured him; "the lions
will do our killing; and I can promise you that you will enjoy the
thrill of the chase, that reaches its highest point in the grand hunt."

Beyond the eastern gate an open, parklike plain stretched for a short
distance to the forest. Near the gate four stalwart slaves held two
lions in leash, while a fifth man, naked but for a dirty loin cloth,
squatted upon the ground a short distance away.

As the four hunters approached the party Xerstle explained to Tarzan
that the leashed beasts were his hunting lions, and as the ape-man's
observant eyes ran over the five men who were to accompany them on the
hunt he recognized the stalwart black seated upon the ground apart as
the man he had seen upon the auction block in the market place; then
Xerstle approached the fellow and spoke briefly with him, evidently
giving him orders. When Xerstle had finished, the black started off
at a trot across the plain in the direction of the forest. Every one
watched his progress.

"Why is he running ahead?" asked Tarzan. "He will frighten away the
quarry."

Pindes laughed. "He is the quarry."

"You mean--" demanded Tarzan with a scowl.

"That this is a grand hunt," cried Xerstle, "where we hunt man, the
grandest quarry."

The ape-man's eyes narrowed. "I see," he said; "you are cannibals; you
eat the flesh of men."

Gemnon turned away to hide a smile.

"No!" shouted Pindes and Xerstle in unison. "Of course not."

"Then why do you hunt him, if not to eat him?"

"For pleasure," explained Xerstle.

"Oh, yes; I forgot. And what happens if you do not get him? Is he free
then?"

"I should say not; not if we can capture him again," cried Xerstle.
"Slaves cost too much money to be lightly thrown away like that."

"Tell me more of the grand hunt," insisted Tarzan. "I think I am going
to get much satisfaction from this one."

"I hope so," replied Xerstle. "When the quarry reaches the forest we
loose the lions; then the sport commences."

"If the fellow takes to the trees," explained Pindes, "we leash the
lions and drive him out with sticks and stones or with our spears; then
we give him a little start and loose the lions again. Pretty soon they
catch him; and it is the aim of the hunters to be in at the kill, for
there is where the real thrills come. Have you ever seen two lions kill
a man?"

When the black reached the forest, Xerstle spoke a word of command to
the keepers and they unleashed the two great beasts. From their actions
it was evident that they were trained to the sport. From the moment
the black had started out toward the forest the lions had strained and
tugged upon their leashes, so that it was only by the use of their
spears that the keepers restrained the beasts from dragging them across
the plain; and when they were at last set free they bounded away in
pursuit of the unfortunate creature who had been chosen to give Xerstle
and his guests a few hours of entertainment.

Halfway to the forest the lions settled down to a much slower gait, and
the hunters commenced gradually to overhaul them. Xerstle and Pindes
appeared excited, far more excited than the circumstances of the hunt
warranted; Gemnon was silent and thoughtful; Tarzan was disgusted and
bored. But before they reached the forest his interest was aroused, for
a plan had occurred to him whereby he might derive some pleasure from
the day's sport.

The wood, which the hunters presently entered a short distance behind
the lions, was of extraordinary beauty; the trees were very old and
gave evidence of having received the intelligent care of man, as did
the floor of the forest. There was little or no deadwood in the trees
and only occasional clumps of underbrush upon the ground between them.
As far as Tarzan could see among the boles of the trees the aspect was
that of a well-kept park rather than of a natural wood, and in answer
to a comment he made upon this fact Gemnon explained that for ages his
people had given regular attention to the conservation of this forest
from the city of gold to the Pass of the Warriors.

Heavy lianas swung in graceful loops from tree to tree; higher up
toward the sunlight Tarzan caught glimpses of brilliant tropical
blooms; there were monkeys in the trees and gaudy, screaming birds.
The scene filled the ape-man with such a longing for the freedom that
was his life that, for the moment, he almost forgot that Gemnon's life
hinged upon his abandoning all thought of escape while the young noble
was responsible to the Queen for his safekeeping.

Once within the forest Tarzan dropped gradually to the rear of the
party, and then, when none was looking, swung to the branches of a
tree. Plain to his nostrils had been the scent spoor of the quarry from
the beginning of the chase, and now the ape-man knew, possibly even
better than the lions, the direction of the hopeless flight of the
doomed black.

Swinging through the trees in a slight detour that carried him around
and beyond the hunters without revealing his desertion to them, Tarzan
sped through the middle terraces of the forest as only the lord of the
jungle can.

Stronger and stronger in his nostrils waxed the scent of the quarry;
behind him came the lions and the hunters; and he knew that he must
act quickly, for they were no great distance in his rear. A grim smile
lighted his grey eyes as he considered the _dénouement_ of the project
he had undertaken.

Presently he saw the black running through the forest just ahead of
him. The fellow was moving at a dogged trot, casting an occasional
glance behind him. He was a splendidly muscled Galla, a perfect type
of primitive manhood, who seemed bent upon giving the best account of
himself that he might against the hopeless odds that must eventually
win the game in which his life was the stake. There was neither fear
nor panic in his flight, merely inflexible determination to surrender
to the inevitable only as a last resort.

Tarzan was directly above the man now, and he spoke to him in the
language of his people. "Take to the trees," he called down.

The black looked up, but he did not stop. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"An enemy of your master, who would help you escape," replied the
ape-man.

"There is no escape; if I take to the trees they will stone me down."

"They will not find you; I will see to that."

"Why should you help me?" demanded the black, but he stopped now and
looked up again, searching for the man whose voice came down to him in
a tongue that gave him confidence in the speaker.

"I have told you that I am an enemy of your master."

Now the black saw the bronzed figure of the giant above him. "You are
a white man!" he exclaimed. "You are trying to trick me. Why should a
white man help me?"

"Hurry!" admonished Tarzan, "or it will be too late, and no one can
help you."

For just an instant longer the black hesitated; then he leaped for a
low-hanging branch and swung himself up into the tree as Tarzan came
down to meet him.

"They will come soon and stone us both down," he said. There was no
hope in his voice nor any fear, only dumb apathy.



                                  XV

                         THE PLOT THAT FAILED


Through the trees toward the east the ape-man carried the Galla slave
who was to have been the victim of Xerstle's day of sport. At first
the man had demurred; but as the growling of the hunting lions had
increased in volume, denoting their close approach, he had resigned
himself to what he may have considered the lesser of two evils.

Swiftly, the giant of the jungle bore the Galla toward the east where,
beyond the forest, loomed the mountains that hemmed Onthar upon that
side. For a mile he carried him through the trees and then swung
lightly to the ground.

"If the lions ever pick up your trail now," he said, "it will not be
until long after you have reached the mountains and safety. But do not
delay--go now."

The black fell upon his knees and took the hand of his savior in his
own. "I am Hafim," he said. "If I could serve you, I would die for you.
Who are you?"

"I am Tarzan of the Apes. Now go your way and lose no time."

"One more favor," begged the black.

"What?"

"I have a brother. He, too, was captured by these people when they
captured me. He is a slave in the gold mines south of Cathne. His name
is Niaka. If you should ever go to the gold mines, tell him that Hafim
has escaped. It will make him happier, and perhaps then he will try to
escape."

"I shall tell him. Now go."

Silently the black disappeared among the boles of the forest trees, and
Tarzan sprang again into the branches and swung rapidly back in the
direction of the hunters. When he reached them, dropping to the ground
and approaching them from behind, they were clustered near the spot at
which Hafim had taken to the trees.

"Where have you been?" asked Xerstle. "We thought that you had become
lost."

"I dropped behind," replied the ape-man; "but where is your quarry? I
thought that you would have had him by this time."

"We cannot understand it," admitted Xerstle. "It is evident that he
climbed this tree, because the lions followed him to this very spot,
where they stood looking up into the tree; but they did not growl as
though they saw the man. Then we leashed them again and sent one of the
keepers into the tree, but he saw no sign of the quarry."

"It is a mystery!" exclaimed Pindes.

"It is indeed," agreed Tarzan; "at least for those who do not know the
secret."

"Who does know the secret?" demanded Xerstle.

"The black slave who has escaped you must know, if no other."

"He has not escaped me," snapped Xerstle. "He has but prolonged the
hunt and increased its interest."

"It would add to the excitement of the day to lay some bets on that,"
said the ape-man. "I do not believe that your lions can again pick up
the trail in time to bring down the quarry before dark."

"A thousand drachmas that they do!" cried Xerstle.

"Being a stranger who came naked into your country, I have no thousand
drachmas," said Tarzan; "but perhaps Gemnon will cover your bet." He
turned his face away from Xerstle and Pindes and, looking at Gemnon,
slowly closed one eye.

"Done!" exclaimed Gemnon to Xerstle.

"I only demand the right to conduct the hunt in my own way," said the
latter.

"Of course," agreed Gemnon, and Xerstle turned his face toward Pindes
and slowly closed one eye.

"We shall separate, then," explained Xerstle, "and as you and Tarzan
are betting against me; one of you must accompany me and the other go
with Pindes so that all may be sure that the hunt is prosecuted with
fairness and determination."

"Agreed," said Tarzan.

"But I am responsible to the Queen for the safe return of Tarzan,"
demurred Gemnon; "I do not like to have him out of my sight even for a
short time."

"I promise that I shall not try to escape," the ape-man assured him.

"It was not that alone of which I was thinking," explained Gemnon.

"And I can assure you that I can take care of myself, if you feel fears
for my safety," added Tarzan.

"Come, let us go," urged Xerstle. "I shall hunt with Gemnon and Pindes
with Tarzan. We shall take one lion, they the other."

Reluctantly Gemnon assented to the arrangement, and presently the two
parties separated, Xerstle and Gemnon going toward the northwest while
Pindes and Tarzan took an easterly direction. The latter had proceeded
but a short distance, the lion still upon its leash, when Pindes
suggested that they separate, spreading out through the forest, and
thus combing it more carefully.

"You go straight east," he said to Tarzan, "the keepers and the lion
will go northeast, and I will go north. If any comes upon the trail he
may shout to attract the others to his position. If we have not located
the quarry in an hour let us all converge toward the mountains at the
eastern side of the forest."

The ape-man nodded and started off in the direction assigned him, soon
disappearing among the trees; but neither Pindes nor the keepers moved
from where he had left them, the keepers held by a whispered word from
Pindes. The leashed lion looked after the departing ape-man, and Pindes
smiled. The keepers looked at him questioningly.

"Such sad accidents have happened many times before," said Pindes.

Tarzan moved steadily toward the east. He knew that he would not find
the black and so he did not look for him. The forest interested him but
not to the exclusion of all else; his keen faculties were always upon
the alert. Presently he heard a noise behind him and glancing back was
not surprised by what he saw. A lion was stalking him, a lion wearing
the harness of a hunting lion of Cathne. It was one of Xerstle's lions;
it was the same lion that had accompanied Pindes and Tarzan.

Instantly the ape-man guessed the truth, and a grim light glinted in
his eyes; it was no light of anger, but there was disgust in it and
the shadowy suggestion of a savage smile. The lion, realizing that its
quarry had discovered it, began to roar. In the distance Pindes heard
and smiled.

"Let us go now," he said to the keepers; "we must not find the remains
too quickly; that might not look well." The three men moved slowly off
toward the north.

From a distance Gemnon and Xerstle heard the roar of the hunting lion.
"They have picked up the trail," said Gemnon, halting; "we had best
join them."

"Not yet," demurred Xerstle. "It may be a false trail. The animal with
them is not so good a hunter as ours; he is not so well trained. We
will wait until we hear the hunters call." But Gemnon was troubled.

Tarzan stood waiting the coming of the lion. He could have taken to
the trees and escaped, but a spirit of bravado prompted him to remain.
He hated treachery, and exposing it gave him pleasure. He carried a
Cathnean spear and his own hunting knife; his bow and arrows he had
left behind.

The lion came nearer; it seemed vaguely disturbed. Perhaps it did not
understand why the quarry stood and faced it instead of running away.
Its tail twitched; its head was flattened; slowly it came on again, its
wicked eyes gleaming angrily.

Tarzan waited. In his right hand was the sturdy Cathnean spear, in his
left the hunting knife of the father he had never known. He measured
the distance with a trained eye as the lion started its swift, level
charge; then, when it was coming at full speed, his spear hand flew
back and he launched the heavy weapon.

Deep beneath the left shoulder it drove, deep into the savage heart;
but it checked the beast's charge for but an instant. Infuriated now,
the carnivore rose upon its hind legs above the ape-man, its great,
taloned paws reaching to drag him to the slavering jowls; but Tarzan,
swift as Ara, the lightning, stooped and sprang beneath them, sprang
to one side and then in again, closing with the lion, leaping upon its
back.

With a hideous roar, the animal wheeled and sought to bury its great
fangs in the bronzed body or reach it with those raking talons. It
threw itself to right and left as the creature clinging to it drove a
steel blade repeatedly into the already torn and bleeding heart.

The vitality and life tenacity of a lion are astounding; but even
that mighty frame could not for long withstand the lethal wounds its
adversary had inflicted, and presently it slumped to earth and, with a
little quiver, died. Then the ape-man leaped to his feet. With one foot
upon the carcass of his kill, Tarzan of the Apes raised his face to the
leafy canopy of the Cathnean forest and from his great chest rolled the
hideous victory cry of the bull ape which has killed.

As the uncanny challenge reverberated down the forest aisles, Pindes
and the two keepers looked questioningly at one another and laid their
hands upon their sword hilts.

"In the name of Thoos! what was that?" demanded one of the keepers.

"By the mane of Thoos! I never heard a sound so horrible before,"
answered his companion, looking fearfully in the direction from which
those weird notes had come.

"Silence!" admonished Pindes. "Do you want the thing to creep upon us
unheard because of your jabbering!"

"What was it, master?" asked one of the men in a whisper.

"It may have been the death cry of the stranger," suggested Pindes,
voicing the hope that was in his heart.

"It sounded not like a death cry, master," replied the black; "there
was a note of strength and elation in it and none of weakness and
defeat."

"Silence, fool!" grumbled Pindes.

At a little distance, Gemnon and Xerstle heard, too. "What was that?"
demanded the latter.

Gemnon shook his head. "I do not know, but we had better go and find
out. I did not like the sound of it."

Xerstle appeared nervous. "It was nothing, perhaps, but the wind in the
trees; let us go on with our hunting."

"There is no wind," demurred Gemnon. "I am going to investigate. I
am responsible for the safety of the stranger; but, even of more
importance than that, I like him."

"Oh, so do I!" exclaimed Xerstle eagerly. "But nothing could have
happened to him; Pindes is with him."

"That is precisely what I was thinking," observed Gemnon.

"That nothing could have happened to him?"

"That Pindes is with him!"

Xerstle shot a quick, suspicious look at the other, motioned to the
keepers to follow with the leashed lion, and fell in behind Gemnon who
had already started back toward the point at which they had separated
from their companions.

In the meantime Pindes, unable to curb his curiosity, overcame his
fears and started after Tarzan for the purpose of ascertaining what
had befallen him as well as tracing the origin of the mysterious cry
that had so filled him and his servants with wondering awe. Rather
nervously, the two lion keepers followed him through the brooding
silence of the forest, all three men keeping a careful lookout ahead
and upon every side.

They had not gone far when Pindes, who was in the lead, halted suddenly
and pointed straight ahead. "What is that?" he demanded.

The keepers pressed forward. "Mane of Thoos!" cried one, "it is the
lion!"

They advanced slowly, watching the lion, looking to right and left. "It
is dead!" exclaimed Pindes.

The three men examined the body of the dead beast, turning it over. "It
has been stabbed to death," announced one of the keepers.

"The Galla slave had no weapon," said Pindes thoughtfully.

"The stranger carried a knife," a keeper reminded him.

"Whoever killed the lion must have fought it hand-to-hand," reflected
Pindes aloud.

"Then he must be lying nearby dead or wounded, master."

"Search for him!" directed Pindes.

"He could have killed Phobeg with his bare hands that day that he threw
him into the audience at the stadium," a keeper reminded the noble. "He
carried him around as though Phobeg were a babe. He is very strong."

"What has that to do with the matter?" demanded Pindes irritably.

"I do not know, master; I was only thinking."

"I did not tell you to think," snapped Pindes; "I told you to hunt for
the man that killed the lion; he must be dying or dead nearby."

While they hunted, Xerstle and Gemnon were drawing nearer. The latter
was much concerned about the welfare of his charge. He trusted neither
Xerstle nor Pindes, and now he commenced to suspect that he and Tarzan
had been deliberately separated for sinister purposes. He was walking
a little behind Xerstle at the time; the keepers, with the lion, were
just ahead of them. He felt a hand upon his shoulder and wheeled about;
there stood Tarzan, a smile upon his lips.

"Where did you drop from?" demanded Gemnon.

"We separated to search for the Galla, Pindes and I," explained the
ape-man as Xerstle turned at the sound of Gemnon's voice and discovered
him.

"Did you hear that terrible scream a while ago?" demanded Xerstle. "We
thought it possible that one of you was hurt, and we were hurrying to
investigate."

"Did some one scream?" inquired Tarzan innocently. "Perhaps it was
Pindes, for I am not hurt."

Shortly after Tarzan had rejoined them Xerstle and Gemnon came upon
Pindes and his two lion keepers searching the underbrush and the
surrounding forest. As his eyes fell upon Tarzan, Pindes' eyes went
wide in astonishment, and he paled a little.

"What has happened?" demanded Xerstle. "What are you looking for? Where
is your lion?"

"He is dead," explained Pindes. "Some one or something stabbed him to
death." He did not look at Tarzan; he feared to do so. "We have been
looking for the man who did it, thinking that he must have been badly
mauled and, doubtless, killed."

"Have you found him?" asked Tarzan.

"No."

"Shall I help you search for him? Suppose you and I, Pindes, go away
alone and look for him!" suggested the ape-man.

For a moment Pindes seemed choking as he sought for a reply. "No!" he
exclaimed presently. "It would be useless; we have searched carefully;
there is not even a sign of blood to indicate that he was wounded."

"And you found no trace of the quarry?" asked Xerstle.

"None," replied Pindes. "He has escaped, and we might as well return to
the city. I have had enough hunting for today."

Xerstle grumbled. It was getting late; he had lost his quarry and one
of his lions; but there seemed no reason to continue the hunt, and so
he grudgingly acquiesced.

"So this is a grand hunt?" remarked Tarzan meditatively. "Perhaps
it has not been thrilling; but I have enjoyed it greatly. However,
Gemnon appears to be the only one who has profited by it; he has won a
thousand drachmas."

Xerstle only grunted and strode on moodily toward the city. When the
party separated before the house of Gemnon's father Tarzan stood close
to Xerstle and whispered in a low voice, "My compliments to Erot, and
may he have better luck next time!"



                                  XVI

                        IN THE TEMPLE OF THOOS


As Tarzan sat with Gemnon and the latter's father and mother at dinner
that evening a slave entered the room to announce that a messenger had
come from the house of Thudos, the father of Doria, with an important
communication for Gemnon.

"Fetch him here," directed the young noble, and a moment later a tall
black was ushered into the apartment.

"Ah, Gemba!" exclaimed Gemnon in a kindly tone, "you have a message for
me?"

"Yes, master," replied the slave, "but it is important--and secret."

"You may speak before these others, Gemba," replied Gemnon. "What is
it?"

"Doria, the daughter of Thudos, my master, has sent me to tell you that
by a ruse the noble Erot gained entrance to her father's house and
spoke with her today. What he said to her was of no importance; only
the fact that he saw her is important."

"The jackal!" exclaimed Gemnon's father.

Gemnon paled. "That is all?" he inquired.

"That is all, master," replied Gemba.

Gemnon took a gold coin from his pocket pouch and handed it to the
black. "Return to your mistress, and tell her that I shall come and
speak with her father tomorrow."

After the slave had withdrawn Gemnon looked hopelessly at his father.
"What can I do?" he asked. "What can Thudos do? What can anyone do? We
are helpless."

"Perhaps I can do something," suggested Tarzan. "For the moment I seem
to hold the confidence of your Queen; when I see her I shall question
her, and if it is necessary I shall intercede in your behalf."

A new hope sprang to Gemnon's eyes. "If you will!" he cried. "She will
listen to you. I believe that you alone might save Doria; but remember
that the Queen must not see her, for should she, nothing can save
her--she will be either disfigured or killed."

Early the next morning a messenger from the palace brought a command
to Tarzan to visit the Queen at noon, with instructions to Gemnon to
accompany Tarzan with a strong guard as she feared treachery on the
part of Tarzan's enemies.

"They must be powerful enemies that dare attempt to thwart the wishes
of Nemone," commented Gemnon's father.

"There is only one in all Cathne who dares do that," replied Gemnon.

The older man nodded. "The old she-devil! Would but that Thoos
destroyed her! How shameful it is that Cathne should be ruled by a
slave woman!"

"I have seen Nemone look at her as though she wished to kill her," said
Tarzan.

"Yes, but she will never dare," prophesied Gemnon's father. "Between
the old witch and Tomos a threat of some sort is held over the Queen's
head so that she dares not destroy either one of them, yet I am sure
she hates them both; and it is seldom that she permits one to live whom
she hates."

"It is thought that they hold the secret of her birth, a secret that
would destroy her if it were announced to the people," explained
Gemnon; "but come, we have the morning to ourselves; I shall not visit
Thudos until after you have talked with Nemone; what shall we do in the
meantime?"

"I should like to visit the mines of Cathne," replied Tarzan; "shall we
have time?"

"Yes, we shall," replied Gemnon; "the Mine of the Rising Sun is not
far; and as there is little to see after you get there, the trip will
not take long."

On the road from Cathne to the nearer mine, Gemnon pointed out the
breeding plant where the war and hunting lions of Cathne are bred; but
they did not stop to visit the place, and presently they were winding
up the short mountain road to the Gold Mine of the Rising Sun.

As Gemnon had warned him, there was little of interest for Tarzan to
see. The workings were open, the mother lode lying practically upon
the surface of the ground; and so rich was it that only a few slaves
working with crude picks and bars were needed to supply the coffers of
Cathne with vast quantities of the precious metal. But it was not the
mines nor gold that had caused Tarzan to wish to visit the diggings. He
had promised Hafim that he would carry a message to his brother, Niaka;
and it was for this purpose that he had suggested the visit.

As he moved about among the slaves, ostensibly inspecting the lode, he
finally succeeded in separating himself sufficiently from Gemnon and
the warriors who guarded the workers to permit him to speak unnoticed
to one of the slaves.

"Which is Niaka?" he asked in Galla, lowering his voice to a whisper.

The black looked up in surprise, but at a warning gesture from Tarzan
bent his head again and answered in a whisper, "Niaka is the big man at
my right. He is headman; you see that he does not work."

Tarzan moved then in the direction of Niaka, and when he was close
stopped beside him and leaned as though inspecting the lode that was
uncovered at his feet. "Listen," he whispered. "I bring you a message,
but let no one know that I am talking to you. It is from your brother,
Hafim. He has escaped."

"How?" whispered Niaka.

Briefly, Tarzan explained.

"It was you, then, who saved him?"

The ape-man nodded.

"I am only a poor slave," said Niaka, "and you are a powerful noble, no
doubt; so I can never repay you. But should you ever need any service
that Niaka can render, you have but to command; with my life I would
serve you. In that little hut below the diggings I live with my woman;
because I am headman I am trusted and live thus alone. If you ever want
me you will find me there."

"I ask no return for what I did," replied Tarzan, "but I shall remember
where you live; one never knows what the future holds."

He moved away then and joined Gemnon; and presently the two turned back
toward the city, while in the palace of the Queen Tomos entered the
apartment of Nemone and knelt.

"What now?" she demanded. "Is the affair so urgent that I must be
interrupted at my toilet?"

"It is, majesty," replied the councillor, "and I beg that you send your
slaves away. What I have to say is for your ears alone."

There were four black girls working on Nemone's nails, one at each foot
and one at each hand, and a white girl arranging her hair. To the last
the Queen spoke, "Take the slaves away, Maluma, and send them to their
quarters; you may wait in the adjoining room."

Then she turned to the councillor, who had arisen. "Well, what is it?"

"Your majesty has long had reason to suspect the loyalty of Thudos,"
Tomos reminded her, "and in the interest of your majesty's welfare and
the safety of the throne, I am constantly watchful of the activities of
this powerful enemy. Spurred on by love and loyalty, the noble Erot has
been my most faithful agent and ally; and it is really to him that we
owe the information that I bring you."

Nemone tapped her sandalled foot impatiently upon the mosaic floor.
"Have done with the self-serving preamble, and tell me what you have to
tell me," she snapped, for she did not like Tomos and made no effort to
hide her feelings.

"Briefly, then, it is this; Gemnon conspires also with Thudos, hoping,
doubtless, that his reward will be the beautiful daughter of his chief."

"That hollow-cheeked strumpet!" exclaimed Nemone. "Who said she was
beautiful?"

"Erot tells me that Gemnon and Thudos believe her the most beautiful
woman in the world," replied Tomos.

"Impossible! Did Erot see her?"

"Yes, majesty, he saw her."

"What does Erot say?" demanded the Queen.

"That she is indeed beautiful," replied the councillor. "There are
others who think so too," he added.

"What others?"

"One who has been drawn into the conspiracy with Gemnon and Thudos by
the beauty of Doria, the daughter of Thudos."

"Whom do you mean? Speak out! I know you have something unpleasant in
your mind that you are suffering to tell me, hoping that it will make
me unhappy."

"Oh, majesty, you wrong me!" cried Tomos. "My only thoughts are for the
happiness of my beloved Queen."

"Your words stink with falseness," sneered Nemone. "But get to the
point; I have other matters to occupy my time."

"I but hesitated to name the other for fear of wounding your majesty,"
said Tomos oilily; "but if you insist it is the stranger called Tarzan."

Nemone sat up very straight. "What fabric of lies is this you and
M'duze are weaving?" she demanded.

"It is no lie, majesty. Tarzan and Gemnon were seen coming from the
house of Thudos late at night. Erot had followed them there; he saw
them go in; they were there a long while; hiding in the shadows across
the avenue, he saw them come out. He says that they were quarrelling
over Doria, and he believes that it was Gemnon who sought the life of
Tarzan because of jealousy."

Nemone sat straight and stiff upon her couch; her face was pale and
tense with fury. "Some one shall die for this," she said in a low
voice. "Go!"

Tomos backed from the room. He was elated until he had time to reflect
more fully upon her words; then he reflected that Nemone had not stated
explicitly who should die. He had assumed that she meant Tarzan,
because it was Tarzan whom he wished to die; but it presently occurred
to him that she might have meant another, and he was less elated.

It was almost noon when Tarzan and Gemnon returned to the city, and
time for the latter to conduct Tarzan to his audience with Nemone. With
a guard of warriors they went to the palace, where the ape-man was
immediately admitted alone into the presence of the Queen.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

Tarzan looked at her in surprise; then he smiled. "I visited the Mine
of the Rising Sun."

"Where were you last night?"

"At the house of Gemnon," he replied.

"You were with Doria!" accused Nemone.

"No," said the ape-man; "that was the night before."

He had been surprised by the accusation and the knowledge that it
connoted, but he did not let her see that he was surprised. He was not
thinking of himself but of Doria and Gemnon, seeking a plan whereby he
might protect them. It was evident that some enemy had turned informer
and that Nemone already knew of the visit to the house of Thudos;
therefore he felt that it would but have aroused the Queen's suspicions
to have denied it; to admit it freely, to show that he sought to
conceal nothing, would allay them. As a matter of fact Tarzan's frank
and ready reply left Nemone rather flat.

"Why did you go to the house of Thudos?" she asked, but this time her
tone was not accusing.

"You see, Gemnon does not dare to leave me alone for fear that I shall
escape or that something may befall me; and so he is forced to take me
wherever he goes. It is rather hard on him, Nemone, and I have been
intending to ask you to make some one else responsible for me for at
least a part of the time."

"We will speak of that later," replied the Queen. "Why does Gemnon go
to the house of Thudos?" Nemone's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

The ape-man smiled. "What a foolish question for a woman to ask!" he
exclaimed. "Gemnon is in love with Doria. I thought all Cathne knew
that; he certainly takes enough pains to tell all his acquaintances."

"You are sure that it is not you who are in love with her?" demanded
Nemone.

Tarzan looked at her with disgust he made no effort to conceal. "Do not
be a fool, Nemone," he said. "I do not like fool women."

The jaw of the Queen of Cathne dropped. In all her life no one had ever
addressed her in words or tones like these. For a moment they left her
speechless, but in that moment of speechlessness there came the sudden
realization that the very things that shocked her also relieved her
mind of gnawing suspicion and of jealousy--Tarzan did not love Doria.
And, too, she was compelled to admit that his indifference to her
position or her anger increased her respect for him and made him still
more desirable in her eyes. She had never known such a man before; none
had ever ruled her. Here was one who might if he wished, but she was
troubled by the fear that he did not care enough about her to wish to
rule her.

When she spoke again, she had regained her calm. "I was told that you
loved her," she explained, "but I did not believe it. Is she very
beautiful? I have heard that she is considered the most beautiful woman
in Cathne."

"Perhaps Gemnon thinks so," replied Tarzan with a laugh, "but you know
what love does to the eyes of youth."

"What do you think of her?" demanded the Queen.

The ape-man shrugged. "She is not bad looking," he said.

"Is she as beautiful as Nemone?" demanded the Queen.

"As the brilliance of a far star is to the brilliance of the sun."

The reply appeared to please Nemone. She arose and came closer to
Tarzan, "You think me beautiful?" she asked in soft, insinuating tones.

"You are very beautiful, Nemone," he answered truthfully.

She pressed against him, caressing his shoulder with a smooth, warm
palm. "Love me, Tarzan," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion.

There was a rattling of chains at the far end of the room, followed
by a terrific roar as Belthar sprang to his feet. Nemone shrank
suddenly away from the ape-man; a shudder ran through her body, and an
expression, half fright, half anger, suffused her face.

"It is always something," she said irritably, trembling a little.
"Belthar is jealous. There is a strange bond linking the life of that
beast to my life. I do not know what it is; I wish I did." A light,
almost of madness, glittered in her eyes. "I wish I knew! Sometimes I
think he is the mate that Thoos intended for me; sometimes I think he
is myself in another form; but this I know: When Belthar dies, I die!"

She looked up rather sadly at Tarzan as again her mood changed. "Come,
my friend," she said; "we shall go to the temple together and perhaps
Thoos may answer the questions that are in the heart of Nemone." She
struck a bronze disc that depended from the ceiling, and as the brazen
notes reverberated in the room a door opened and a noble bowed low
upon the threshold.

"The guard!" commanded the Queen. "We are visiting Thoos in his temple."

The progress to the temple was in the nature of a pageant--marching
warriors with pennons streaming from spear tips, nobles resplendent in
gorgeous trappings, the Queen in a golden chariot drawn by lions. Tomos
walked upon one side of the glittering car, Tarzan upon the other where
Erot had previously walked.

The ape-man was as uneasy as a forest lion as he strode between
the lines of gaping citizenry. Crowds annoyed and irritated him;
formalities irked him; his thoughts were far away in the distant jungle
that he loved. He knew that Gemnon was nearby watching him; but whether
he were nearby or not, Tarzan would not attempt to escape while this
friend was responsible for him. His mind occupied with such thoughts,
he spoke to the Queen.

"At the palace," he reminded her, "I spoke to you concerning the matter
of relieving Gemnon of the irksome job of watching me."

"Gemnon has acquitted himself well," she replied. "I see no reason for
changing."

"Relieve him then occasionally," suggested Tarzan. "Let Erot take his
place."

Nemone looked at him in astonishment. "But Erot hates you!" she
exclaimed.

"All the more reason that he would watch me carefully," argued Tarzan.

"He would probably kill you."

"He would not dare if he knew that he must pay for my death or escape
with his own life," suggested Tarzan.

"You like Gemnon, do you not?" inquired Nemone innocently.

"Very much," the ape-man assured her.

"Then he is the man to watch you, for you would not imperil his life by
escaping while he is responsible."

Tarzan smiled inwardly and said no more; it was evident that Nemone was
no fool. He would have to devise some other plan of escape that would
not jeopardize the safety of his friend.

They were approaching the temple now and his attention was distracted
by the approach of a number of priests leading a slave girl in chains.
They brought her to the chariot of Nemone, and while the procession
halted the priests chanted in a strange gibberish that Tarzan could not
understand. Later he learned that no one understood it, not even the
priests; but when he asked why they recited something that they could
not understand no one could tell him.

Gemnon thought that once the words had meant something, but they had
been repeated mechanically for so many ages that at length the original
pronunciation had been lost and the meaning of the words forgotten.

When the chant was completed the priests chained the girl to the
rear of the Queen's chariot; and the march was resumed, the priests
following behind the girl.

At the entrance to the temple Phobeg was on guard as a girl entered
to worship. Recognizing the warrior, she greeted him and paused for
a moment's conversation, the royal party having not yet entered the
temple square.

"I have not seen you to talk with for a long time, Phobeg," she said.
"I am glad that you are back again on the temple guard."

"Thanks to the stranger called Tarzan I am alive and here," replied
Phobeg.

"I should think that you would hate him," exclaimed the girl.

"Not I," cried Phobeg. "I know a better man when I see one. I admire
him. And did he not grant me my life when the crowd screamed for my
death?"

"That is true," admitted the girl. "And now _he_ needs a friend."

"What do you mean, Maluma?" demanded the warrior.

"I was in an adjoining room when Tomos visited the Queen this morning,"
explained the girl, "and I overheard him tell her that Thudos and
Gemnon and Tarzan were conspiring against her and that Tarzan loved
Doria, the daughter of Thudos."

"How did Tomos know these things?" asked Phobeg. "Did he offer proof?"

"He said that Erot had watched and had seen Gemnon and Tarzan visit the
house of Thudos," explained Maluma. "He also told her that Erot had
seen Doria and had reported that she was very beautiful."

Phobeg whistled. "That will be the end of the daughter of Thudos," he
said.

"It will be the end of the stranger, too," prophesied Maluma; "and I am
sorry, for I like him. He is not like the jackal, Erot, whom everyone
hates."

"Here comes the Queen!" exclaimed Phobeg as the head of the procession
debouched into the temple square. "Run along now and get a good place,
for there will be something to see today; there always is when the
Queen comes to worship god."

Before the temple, Nemone alighted from her chariot and walked up the
broad stairway to the ornate entrance. Behind her were the priests
with the slave girl, a frightened, wide-eyed girl with tears upon her
cheeks. Following them came the nobles of the court, the warriors of
the guard remaining in the temple square before the entrance.

The temple was a large three-storied building with a great central
dome about the interior of which ran galleries at the second and third
stories. The interior of the dome was of gold as were the pillars
that supported the galleries, while the walls of the building were
embellished with colorful mosaics. Directly opposite the main entrance,
on a level with a raised dais, a great cage was built into a niche, and
on either side of the cage was an altar supporting a lion carved from
solid gold. Before the dais was a stone railing inside of which was a
throne and a row of stone benches facing the cage in the niche.

Nemone advanced and seated herself upon the throne, while the nobles
took their places upon the benches. No one paid any attention to
Tarzan; so he remained outside the railing, a mildly interested
spectator.

He had noticed a change come over Nemone the instant that she had
entered the temple. She had shown signs of extreme nervousness, the
expression of her face had changed; it was tense and eager; there was
a light in her eyes that was like the mad light he had seen there
occasionally before, yet different--the light of religious fanaticism.

Tarzan saw the priests lead the girl up onto the dais and then, beyond
them, he saw something rise up in the cage. It was an old and mangy
lion. The high priest began a meaningless, singsong chant, in which the
others joined occasionally as though making responses. Nemone leaned
forward eagerly; her eyes were fastened upon the old lion. Her breasts
rose and fell to her excited breathing.

Suddenly the chanting ceased and the Queen arose. "O Thoos!" she cried,
her hands outstretched toward the mangy old carnivore. "Nemone brings
you greetings and an offering. Receive them from Nemone and bless her.
Give her life and health and happiness; most of all Nemone prays for
happiness. Preserve her friends and destroy her enemies. And, O Thoos,
give her the one thing that she most desires--love, the love of the one
man in all the world that Nemone has ever loved!" And the lion glared
at her through the bars.

She spoke as though in a trance as though oblivious to all else around
her save the god to which she prayed. There were pathos and tragedy in
her voice, and a great pity rose in the breast of the ape-man for this
poor Queen who had never known love and who never might because of the
warped brain that mistook passion for affection and lust for love.

As she sat down weakly upon her golden throne, the priests led the
slave girl away through a doorway at one side of the cage; and, as she
passed, the lion leaped for her, striking heavily against the bars
that restrained him. His growls rolled through the temple, filling the
chamber with thunderous sound, echoing and reëchoing from the dome.

Nemone sat, silent and rigid, upon her throne staring straight ahead at
the lion in the cage; the priests and many of the nobles were reciting
prayers in monotones. It was evident to Tarzan that they were praying
to the lion, for every eye was upon the repulsive beast; and some of
the questions that had puzzled him when he had first come to Cathne
were answered. He understood now the strange oaths of Phobeg and his
statement that he had stepped upon the tail of god.

Suddenly a beam of light shone down directly into the cage from above,
flooding the beast-god with its golden rays. The lion, which had been
pacing restlessly to and fro, stopped and looked up, his jaws parted,
saliva dripping from his jowls. The audience burst in unison into a
singsong chant. Tarzan, half guessing what was about to occur, arose
from the rail upon which he had been sitting, and started forward.

But whatever his intention may have been, he was too late to prevent
the tragedy that followed instantly. Even as he arose the body of the
slave girl dropped from above into the clutches of the waiting lion. A
single piercing scream mingled with the horrid roars of the man-eater
and then died as its author died.

Tarzan turned away in disgust and anger and walked from the temple out
into the fresh air and the sunlight, and as he did so a warrior at
the entrance hailed him by name in a whisper. There was a cautionary
warning in the voice that prompted the ape-man to give no apparent
sign of having heard as he turned his eyes casually in the direction
from which the words had come, nor did he betray his interest when he
discovered that it was Phobeg who had addressed him.

Turning slowly, so that his back was toward the warrior, Tarzan looked
back into the temple as though expecting the return of the royal party;
then he backed to the side of the entrance as one might who waits and
stood so close to Phobeg that the latter might have touched him by
moving his spear hand a couple of inches; but neither gave any sign of
being aware of the identity or presence of the other.

In a low whisper, through lips that scarcely moved, Phobeg spoke. "I
must speak to you! Come to the rear of the temple two hours after the
sun has set. Do not answer, but if you hear and will come, turn your
head to the right."

As Tarzan gave the assenting signal the royal party commenced to file
from the temple, and he fell in behind Nemone. The Queen was quiet and
moody, as she always was after the sight of torture and blood at the
temple had aroused her to religious frenzy; the reaction left her weak
and indifferent. At the palace, she dismissed her following, including
Tarzan, and withdrew to the seclusion of her apartments.



                                 XVII

                       THE SECRET OF THE TEMPLE


After the royal party left the temple Maluma came out and paused
again to gossip with Phobeg. For some time they talked before she bid
him goodbye and started back toward the palace. They spoke of many
things--of the man in the secret prison behind a heavy golden door
beneath the temple floor, of Erot and Tomos, of Nemone and Tarzan, of
Gemnon and Doria, and of themselves. Being human, they talked mostly
of themselves. It was late when Maluma returned to the palace. It was
already the evening meal hour.

In the home of his father, Gemnon paced the floor of the patio as he
awaited the summons to the evening meal. Tarzan half sat, half reclined
upon a stone bench. He saw that his friend was worried; and it troubled
him, troubled him most perhaps because he knew that there were grave
causes for apprehension; and he was not certain that he could avert the
disaster that threatened.

Seeking to divert Gemnon's mind from his troubles, Tarzan spoke of the
ceremony at the temple, but principally of the temple itself, praising
its beauty, commenting upon its magnificence. "It is splendid," he
commented; "too splendid for the cruel rites we witnessed there today."

"The girl was only a slave," replied Gemnon, "and god must eat. It is
no wrong to make offerings to Thoos; but the temple _does_ hide a real
wrong. Somewhere within it is hidden Alextar, the brother of Nemone;
and while he rots there the corrupt Tomos and the cruel M'duze rule
Cathne through the mad Nemone.

"There are many who would have a change and place Alextar on the
throne, but they fear the wrath of the terrible triumvirate. So we go
on, and nothing is done. Victim after victim succumbs to the malignant
jealousy and fear that constantly animate the throne.

"We have little hope today; we shall have no hope if the Queen carries
out the plan she is believed to be contemplating and destroys Alextar.
There are reasons why it would be to her advantage to do so, the most
important being the right of Alextar to proclaim himself king should he
ever succeed in reaching the palace.

"If Nemone should die Alextar would become king, and the populace
would insist that he take his rightful place. For this reason Tomos
and M'duze are anxious to destroy him. It is to Nemone's credit that
she has withstood their importunities for all these years, steadfastly
refusing to destroy Alextar; but if ever he seriously threatens her
power, he is lost; and rumors that have reached her ears that a plot
has been perfected to place him on the throne may already have sealed
his doom."

During the meal that evening Tarzan considered plans for visiting
Phobeg at the temple. He wished to go alone but knew that he would
place Gemnon in an embarrassing position should he suggest such a plan,
while to permit the noble to accompany him might not only seal Phobeg's
lips but jeopardize his safety as well; therefore he decided to go
secretly.

Following the stratagem he had adopted, he remained in conversation
with Gemnon and his parents until almost two hours after the sun had
set; then he excused himself, saying that he was tired, and went to the
room that had been assigned him. But he did not tarry there. Instead,
he merely crossed the room from the door to the window and stepped out
into the patio upon which it faced. Here, as throughout the gardens
and avenues of the section of the city occupied by the nobility,
grew large, old trees; and a moment later the lord of the jungle was
swinging through his native element toward the golden temple of Thoos.

He stopped at last in a tree near the rear of the temple where he
saw the huge and familiar figure of Phobeg waiting in the shadows
below. Soundlessly, the ape-man dropped to the ground in front of the
astonished warrior.

"By the great fangs of Thoos!" ejaculated Phobeg, "but you gave me a
start."

"You expected me," was Tarzan's only comment.

"But not from the skies," retorted Phobeg. "However, you are here and
it is well; I have much more to tell you than when I asked you to come.
I have learned more since."

"I am listening," said Tarzan.

"A girl in the service of the Queen overheard a conversation between
Nemone and Tomos," commenced Phobeg. "Tomos accused you and Gemnon and
Thudos of conspiring against her. Erot spied upon you and knew of your
long visit at the home of Thudos a few nights since; he also managed to
enter the house on some pretext the following night and saw Doria, the
daughter of Thudos. Tomos told Nemone that Doria was very beautiful and
that you were in love with her.

"Nemone is not yet convinced that you love Doria, but to be on the safe
side she has ordered Tomos to have the girl abducted and brought to
the temple where she will be imprisoned until Nemone decides upon her
fate. She may destroy her, or she may be content to have her beauty
disfigured.

"But what you must know is this: If you give Nemone the slightest
reason to believe that you are conspiring against her or that you are
fond of Doria she will have you killed. All that I can do is warn you."

"You warned me once before, did you not?" asked Tarzan, "the night that
Gemnon and I went to the house of Thudos."

"Yes, that was I," replied Phobeg.

"Why have you done these things?" asked the ape-man.

"Because I owe my life to you," replied the warrior, "and because I
know a man when I see one. If a man can pick Phobeg up and toss him
around as though he were a baby, Phobeg is willing to be his slave."

"I can only thank you for what you have told me, Phobeg," said Tarzan.
"Now tell me more. If Doria is brought to the temple where will she be
imprisoned?"

"That is hard to say. Alextar is kept in rooms beneath the floor of the
temple, but there are rooms upon the second and third floors where a
prisoner might be safely confined, especially a woman."

"Could you get word to me if she is arrested?"

"I could try," replied Phobeg.

"Good! Is there anything further?"

"No."

"Then I shall return to Gemnon and warn him. Perhaps we shall find a
way to pacify Nemone or outwit her."

"Either would be difficult," commented Phobeg, "but goodbye and good
luck!"

Tarzan swung into the tree above the warrior's head and disappeared
among the shadows of the night, while Phobeg shook his head in
wonderment and returned to his quarters in the temple.

The ape-man made his way to his room by the same avenue he had left
it and went immediately to the common living room where the family
ordinarily congregated for the evenings. Here he found Gemnon's father
and mother, but Gemnon was not there.

"You could not sleep?" inquired the mother.

"No," replied the ape-man. "Where is Gemnon?"

"He was summoned to the palace a short time after you went to your
room," explained Gemnon's father.

Announcing that he would wait up until the son returned, Tarzan
remained in the living room in conversation with the parents. He
wondered a little that Gemnon should have been summoned to the palace
at such an hour; and the things that Phobeg had told him made him a
little apprehensive, but he kept his own counsel rather than frighten
his host and hostess.

Scarcely an hour had passed when they heard a summons at the outer
gate, and presently a slave came to announce that a warrior wished to
speak to Tarzan upon a matter of urgent necessity.

The ape-man arose. "I will go outside and see him," he said.

"Be careful," cautioned Gemnon's father. "You have bitter enemies who
would be glad to see you destroyed."

"I shall be careful," Tarzan assured him as he left the room behind the
slave.

At the gate two warriors connected with the house were detaining a huge
man whom Tarzan recognized even from a distance as Phobeg. "I must
speak with you at once and alone," said the latter.

"This man is all right," Tarzan told the guards. "Let him enter and I
will talk with him in the garden."

When they had walked a short distance from the guards Tarzan paused and
faced his visitor. "What is it?" he asked. "You have brought me bad
news?"

"Very bad," replied Phobeg. "Gemnon, Thudos, and many of their friends
have been arrested and are now in the palace dungeons. Doria has been
taken and is imprisoned in the temple. I did not expect to find you at
liberty, but took the chance that Nemone's interest in you might have
saved you temporarily. If you can escape from Cathne, do so at once;
her mood may change at any moment; she is as mad as a monkey."

"Thank you, Phobeg," said the ape-man. "Now get back to your quarters
before you become embroiled in this affair."

"And you will escape?" asked the warrior.

"I owe something to Gemnon," replied Tarzan, "for his kindness and his
friendship; so I shall not go until I have done what I can to help him."

"No one can help him," stated Phobeg emphatically. "All that you will
do is get yourself in trouble."

"I shall have to chance it, and now goodbye, my friend; but before you
go tell me where Doria is imprisoned."

"On the third floor of the temple at the rear of the building just
above the doorway where I awaited you this evening."

Tarzan accompanied Phobeg to the gate and out into the avenue. "Where
are you going?" demanded the latter.

"To the palace."

"You, too, are mad," protested Phobeg, but already the ape-man had left
him and was walking rapidly along the avenue in the direction of the
palace.

It was late; but Tarzan was now a familiar figure to the palace guards;
and when he told them that Nemone had summoned him they let him enter,
nor was he stopped until he had reached the anteroom outside the
Queen's apartments. Here a noble on guard protested that the hour was
late and that the Queen had retired, but Tarzan insisted upon seeing
her.

"Tell her it is Tarzan," he said.

"I do not dare disturb her," explained the noble nervously, fearful of
Nemone's wrath should she be disturbed and almost equally fearful of it
should he refuse to announce this new favorite who had replaced Erot.

"I dare," said Tarzan and stepped to the door leading to the ivory room
where Nemone had been accustomed to receive him. The noble sought to
interfere but the ape-man pushed him aside and attempted to open the
door only to find it securely bolted upon the opposite side; then with
his clenched fist he pounded loudly upon its carved surface.

Instantly from beyond it came the savage growls of Belthar and a moment
later the frightened voice of a woman. "Who is there?" she demanded.
"The Queen sleeps. Who dares disturb her?"

"Go and awaken her," shouted Tarzan through the door. "Tell her that
Tarzan is here and wishes to see her at once."

"I am afraid," replied the girl. "The Queen will be angry. Go away, and
come in the morning."

Then Tarzan heard another voice beyond the door demanding, "Who is it
comes pounding on Nemone's door at such an hour?" and recognized it as
the Queen's.

"It is the noble Tarzan," replied the slave girl.

"Draw the bolts and admit him," commanded Nemone, and as the door swung
open Tarzan stepped into the ivory room, now so familiar to him.

The Queen stood halfway across the apartment, facing him. Her hair was
dishevelled, her face slightly flushed. She had evidently arisen from
her bed in an adjoining room and thrown a light scarf about her before
stepping into the ivory room. She was very beautiful. There was an
eager, questioning light in her eyes. She directed the slave to rebolt
the door and leave the apartment; then she turned and, walking to the
couch, motioned Tarzan to approach. As she sank among the soft cushions
she motioned Tarzan to her side.

"I am glad you came," she said. "I could not sleep. I have been
thinking of you. But tell me! why did you come? Had you been thinking
of me?"

"I have been thinking of you, Nemone," replied the ape-man; "I have
been thinking that perhaps you will help me; that you can help me, I
know."

"You have only to ask," replied the Queen softly. "There is no favor
that you may not have from Nemone for the asking."

A single cresset shed a soft, flickering light that scarcely dispelled
the darkness of the room, at the far end of which the yellow-green eyes
of Belthar blazed like twin lamps of Hell. Mingling with the acrid
scent of the carnivore and the languorous fumes of incense was the
seductive aura of the scented body of the woman. Her warm breath was on
Tarzan's cheek as she drew him down beside her.

"At last you have come to me of your own volition," she whispered. "Ah,
Thoos! how I have hungered for this moment!"

Her soft, bare arms slipped quickly about his neck and drew him close.
"Tarzan! My Tarzan!" she almost sobbed, and then that same fatal door
at the far end of the apartment opened and the tapping of a metal-shod
staff upon the stone floor brought them both erect to gaze into the
snarling face of M'duze.

"You fool!" cried the old hag in a shrill falsetto. "Send the man away!
unless you would see him killed here before your eyes. Send him away at
once!"

Nemone sprang to her feet and faced the old woman who was now trembling
with rage. "You have gone too far, M'duze," she said in a cold and
level voice. "Go to your room, and remember that I am Queen."

"Queen! Queen!" cackled the hideous creature with a sharp, sarcastic
laugh. "Send your lover away, or I'll tell him who and what you are."

Nemone glided quickly toward her, and as she passed a low stand she
stooped and seized something that lay there. Suddenly the slave woman
shrieked and shrank away, but before she could turn and flee Nemone was
upon her and had seized her by the hair. M'duze raised her staff and
struck at the Queen, but the blow only aroused the frenzied woman to
still greater fury.

"Always you have ruined my life," cried Nemone, "you and your foul
paramour, Tomos. You have robbed me of happiness, and for that,
_this_!" and she drove the gleaming blade of a knife into the withered
breast of the screaming woman, "and this, and this, and this!" and each
time the blade sank deep to emphasize the venom in the words and the
heart of Nemone, the Queen.

Presently M'duze ceased shrieking and sank to the floor. Some one was
pounding upon the door to the anteroom, and the terrified voices of
nobles and guardsmen could be heard demanding entrance. In his corner
Belthar tugged at his chains and roared. Nemone stood looking down
upon the death struggles of M'duze with blazing eyes and snarling
lip. "Curses upon your black soul!" she cried, and then she turned
slowly toward the door upon which the pounding of her retainers' fists
resounded. "Have done!" she called imperiously. "I, Nemone, the Queen,
am safe. The screams that you heard were those of an impudent slave
whom Nemone was correcting."

The voices beyond the door died away as the guardsmen returned to
their posts; then Nemone faced Tarzan. She looked suddenly worn and
very tired. "That favor," she said, "ask it another time; Nemone is
unstrung."

"I must ask it now," replied Tarzan; "tomorrow may be too late."

"Very well," she said; "I am listening. What is it?"

"There is a noble in your court who has been very kind to me since I
have been in Cathne," commenced Tarzan. "Now he is in trouble, and I
have come to ask you to save him."

Nemone's brow clouded. "Who is he?" she demanded.

"Gemnon," replied the ape-man. "He has been arrested with Thudos and
the daughter of Thudos and several of their friends. It is only a plot
to destroy me."

"You dare come to me to intercede for traitors!" cried the Queen,
blazing with sudden fury. "But I know the reason; you love Doria!"

"I do not love her; I have seen her but once. Gemnon loves her. Let
them be happy, Nemone."

"I am not happy," she replied; "why should they be happy? Tell me that
you love me, Tarzan, and I shall be happy!" Her voice was vibrant with
appeal. For a moment she forgot that she was queen.

"A flower does not bloom in the seed," he replied; "it grows gradually,
and thus love grows. The other, that bursts forth spontaneously from
its own heat, is not love, it is passion. I have not known you either
long or well, Nemone; that is my answer."

She turned away and buried her face in her arms as she sank to the
couch; he saw her shoulders shaken by sobs, and pity filled his heart.
He drew nearer to console her, but he had no chance to speak before she
wheeled upon him, her eyes flashing through tears. "The girl, Doria,
dies!" she cried. "Xarator shall have her tomorrow!"

Tarzan shook his head sadly. "You have asked me to love you," he said.
"Do you expect me to love one who ruthlessly destroys my friends?"

"If I save them will you love me?" demanded Nemone.

"That is a question that I cannot answer. The best that I may say is
that I may then respect and admire you; whereas, if you kill them
without reason there can be no chance that I shall ever love you."

She looked at him now out of dull, lowering eyes. "What difference
does it make?" she almost growled. "No one loves me. Tomos wanted to
be king, Erot wished riches and power, M'duze wished to exercise the
majesty that she could never possess; if one of them felt any affection
for me it was M'duze, and I have killed her." She paused, a wild light
flamed in her eyes. "I hate them!" she screamed. "I hate them all! I
shall kill them! I shall kill everyone! I shall kill you!" Then, as
swiftly, her mood changed. "Oh, what am I saying?" she cried. She put
her palms to her temples. "My head! it hurts."

"And my friends!" asked Tarzan; "you will not harm them?"

"Perhaps not," she replied indifferently, and then, as quickly changing
again, "The girl dies! If you intercede for her again her sufferings
shall be greater; Xarator is merciful--more merciful than Nemone."

"When will she die?" asked Tarzan.

"She will be sewn into hides tonight and carried to Xarator tomorrow.
You shall accompany us; do you understand?"

The ape-man nodded. "And my other friends?" he asked, "they will be
saved?"

"You shall come to me tomorrow night," replied Nemone. "We shall see
then how you have decided to treat Nemone; then she will know how to
treat your friends."



                                 XVIII

                            FLAMING XARATOR


Her wrists and ankles bound, Doria, the daughter of Thudos, lay on a
pile of skins in a room upon the third floor of the Temple of Thoos.
Diffused moonlight entered the single window, relieving the darkness of
the interior of her prison. She had seen her father seized and dragged
away; she was in the power of one so ruthless that she knew she could
expect no mercy and that either death or cruel disfigurement awaited
her, yet she did not weep. Above her grief rose the pride of the noble
blood of the house of Thudos, the courage of a line of warriors that
stretched back into the forgotten ages; and she was brave.

She thought of Gemnon; and then the tears almost came, not for herself
but for him because of the grief that would be his when he learned of
her fate. She did not know that he too had fallen into the clutches of
the enemies of her father.

Presently she heard the sound of footsteps approaching along the
corridor, heard them stop before the door behind which she was locked.
The door swung open and the room was illuminated by the light of a
torch held in the hand of a man who entered and closed the door behind
him.

The girl lying upon the pile of skins recognized Erot. She saw him
place the blazing torch in a wall socket designed for the purpose and
turn toward her.

"Ah, the lovely Doria!" he exclaimed. "What ill fate has brought you
here?"

"Doubtless the noble Erot could answer that question better than I,"
she replied.

"Yes, I believe that he could; in fact I know it. It was I who
caused you to be brought here; it was I who caused your father to be
imprisoned; it was I who sent Gemnon to the same cell with the noble
Thudos."

"Gemnon imprisoned!" cried the girl.

"Yes, with many other conspirators against the throne. Behind his back
they used to sneer at Erot because he was not a lion man; they will not
sneer for long. Erot has answered them; now they know that Erot is more
powerful than they."

"And what is to be done with me?" asked the girl.

"Nemone has decreed Xarator for you," replied Erot. "You are even
now lying upon the skins in which you are to be sewn. It is for that
purpose that I am here. My good friend Tomos, the councillor, sent me
to sew you into the bag; but first let us enjoy together your last
night on earth. Be generous, and perhaps I can avert the doom that
Nemone will doubtless decree for your father and your lover. She is
permitting them to live through tomorrow at least, that they may
witness your destruction, for thus runs the kindly mind of sweet
Nemone." He laughed harshly. "The hell-cat! May the devil get her in
the end!"

"You have not even the decency of gratitude," said Doria
contemptuously. "The Queen has lavished favors upon you, given you
power and riches; it is inconceivable that one can be so vile an
ingrate as you."

Erot laughed. "Tomorrow you will be dead," he said; "so what difference
does it make what you think of me? Tonight you shall give me love,
though your heart be filled with hate. There is nothing in the world
but love and hate, the two most pleasurable emotions that great Thoos
has given us; let us enjoy them to the full!" He came and kneeled at
her side and took her in his arms, covering her face and lips with
kisses. She struggled to repulse him, but in her bonds she was helpless
to protect herself.

He was panting with passion as he untied the thongs that secured her
ankles. "You are more beautiful than Nemone," he cried huskily as he
strained her to him.

A low growl sounded from the direction of the window. Erot raised his
face from the soft neck of Doria and looked. He went ashy white as he
leaped to his feet and fled toward the door upon the opposite side of
the room, his craven heart pounding in terror.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was early in the morning as the _cortège_ formed that was to
accompany the doomed Doria to Xarator, for Xarator lies sixteen miles
from the city of Cathne in the mountains at the far end of the valley
of Onthar; and the procession could move no faster than the lions
drawing the chariot of the Queen would walk, which was not fast. Bred
for generations for this purpose, the lions of Cathne had far greater
endurance than forest-bred lions, yet it would be well into the night
before it could be hoped to make the long journey to Xarator and
return; therefore hundreds of slaves bore torches with which to light
the homeward journey after night had fallen.

Nemone entered her chariot. She was wrapped in woolen robes and the
skins of animals, for the morning air was still chill. At her side
walked Tomos, nervous and ill at ease. He knew that M'duze was dead
and wondered if he would be next. The Queen's manner was curt and
abrupt, filling him with dread, for now there was no M'duze to protect
him from the easily aroused wrath of Nemone.

"Where is Tarzan?" she demanded.

"I do not know, majesty," replied Tomos. "I have not seen him."

She looked at him sharply. "Don't lie to me!" she snapped. "You do know
where he is; and if any harm has befallen him, you go to the lion pit."

"But, majesty," cried Tomos, "I know nothing about him. I have not seen
him since we left the temple yesterday."

"Produce him," commanded Nemone sullenly. "It grows late, and Nemone is
not accustomed to wait upon any."

"But, majesty--" began Tomos again.

"Produce him!" interrupted Nemone.

"But--"

"Here he comes now!" exclaimed Nemone as Tarzan strode up the avenue
toward her.

Tomos breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the perspiration from his
forehead. He did not like Tarzan, but in all his life he had never
before been so glad to see anyone alive and well.

"You are late," said Nemone as Tarzan stopped beside her chariot.

The lord of the jungle made no reply.

"We are not accustomed to being delayed," she continued a little
sharply.

"Perhaps if you placed me in the custody of Erot, as I suggested, he
would deliver me on time in future."

Nemone ignored this and turned to Tomos. "We are ready," she said.

At a word from the councillor a trumpeter at his side raised his
instrument to his lips and sounded a call. Slowly the long procession
began to move, and like a huge serpent crawled toward the Bridge of
Gold. The citizens lining the avenue moved with it, men, women, and
children. The women and children carried packages in which food was
wrapped, the men bore arms. A journey to Xarator was an event; it
took them the length of Onthar where wild lions roamed and where
Athnean raiders might set upon them at any moment of the day or night,
especially of the night; so the march took on something of the aspects
of both a pageant and a military excursion.

Behind the golden chariot of the Queen rolled a second chariot on the
floor of which lay a bundle sewn in the skins of lions. Chained to
this chariot were Thudos and Gemnon. Following were a hundred chariots
driven by nobles in gold and ivory, while other nobles on foot entirely
surrounded the chariot of the Queen.

There were columns of marching warriors in the lead; and in the rear
were the war lions of Cathne, the royal fighting lions of the Queen.
Keepers held them on leashes of gold, and proud nobles of ancient
families marched beside them--the lion men of Cathne.

The barbaric splendor of the scene impressed even the ape-man who cared
little for display, though he gave no outward sign of interest as he
strode at the wheel of Nemone's chariot drawn by its eight great lions
held in leash by twenty-four powerful blacks in tunics of red and gold.

The comments of the crowd came to the ears of Tarzan as they marched
through the city and out across the Bridge of Gold onto the road that
runs north through the Field of the Lions. "There is the stranger who
defeated Phobeg." "Yes, he has taken Erot's place in the council." "He
is the Queen's favorite now." "Where is Erot?" "I hope he is dead; this
other is better." "He will soon be as bad; they all get alike when
they get rich and powerful." "Had you heard the rumor that M'duze is
dead?" "She is dead; my cousin's husband is a palace guard. He told
my cousin." "What is that?" "M'duze is dead!" "May Thoos be praised!"
"Have you heard? M'duze is dead!" and so it ran through the two streams
of citizens that hemmed the royal pageant on either side, and always
above the other comment rose the half exultant cry, "M'duze is dead!"

Nemone appeared preoccupied; she sat staring straight ahead; if she
heard the comments of her people she gave no sign. What was passing
behind that beautiful mask that was her face? Chained to the chariot
behind her were two enemies; others were in her prisons. A girl who
dared vie with her in beauty lay insensible in a sack of skins jolting
over the rough road in the dust of the Queen's chariot. Her Nemesis was
dead. The man she loved walked at her side. Nemone should have been
happy; but she was not.

The sun, climbing into the heavens, was bringing heat. Slaves carrying
an umbrella over the Queen adjusted it to fend the hot rays from her;
others waved lions' tails attached to the ends of long poles to and fro
about her to drive the insects away; a gentle breeze carried the dust
of the long column lazily toward the west.

Nemone sighed and turned to Tarzan. "Why were you late?" she asked.

"Would it be strange that I overslept?" he asked. "It was late when I
left the palace, and there was no keeper to awaken me since you took
Gemnon away."

"Had you wished to see me again as badly as I wished to see you, you
would not have been late."

"I was as anxious to be here as you," he replied.

"You have never seen Xarator?" she asked.

"No."

"It is a holy mountain, created by Thoos for the enemies of the kings
and queens of Cathne; in all the world there is nothing like it."

"I am going to enjoy seeing it," replied the ape-man grimly.

They were approaching a fork in the road. "That road leading to the
right runs through the Pass of the Warriors into the valley of Thenar,"
she explained. "Some day I shall send you on a raid to Thenar, and you
shall bring me back the head of one of Athne's greatest warriors."

Tarzan thought of Valthor and wondered if he had reached Athne in
safety. He glanced back at Thudos and Gemnon. He had not spoken to
them, but it was because of them that he was here. He might easily
have escaped had he not determined to remain until he was certain that
he could not aid these friends. Their case appeared hopeless, yet the
ape-man had not given up hope.

At noon the procession stopped for lunch. The populace scattered about
seeking the shade of the trees that dotted the plain and that had not
already been selected by the Queen and the nobles. The lions were
led into shade, where they lay down to rest. Warriors, always on the
lookout for danger, stood guard about the temporary encampment. There
was always danger on the Field of the Lions.

The halt was brief; in half an hour the cavalcade was on the march
again. There was less talking now; silence and the great heat hung over
the dusty column. The hills that bounded the valley upon the north
were close, and soon they entered them, following a canyon upward to a
winding mountain road that led into the hills above.

Presently the smell of sulphur fumes came plainly to the nostrils of
the ape-man, and a little later the column turned the shoulder of a
great mass of volcanic rock and came upon the edge of a huge crater.
Far below, molten rock bubbled, sending up spurts of flame, geysers
of steam, and columns of yellow smoke. The scene was impressive and
awe-inspiring. Before Cathne, before Rome, before Athens, before
Babylon, before Egypt, Xarator had towered in lonely majesty above the
lesser peaks. Beside that mighty cauldron queen and noble shrank to
pitiful insignificance though perhaps there was but one in that great
throng that realized this. Tarzan stood with folded arms and bent head
gazing down into the seething inferno until the Queen touched him on
the shoulder. "What do you think of Xarator?" she asked.

He shook his head. "There are some emotions," he answered slowly, "for
which no words have yet been coined."

"It was created by Thoos for the kings of Cathne," she explained
proudly.

Tarzan made no reply; perhaps he was thinking that here again the
lexicographers had failed to furnish words adequate to the occasion.

On either side of the royal party the people crowded close to the
edge of the crater that they might miss nothing of what was about to
transpire. The children laughed and played, or teased their mothers
for the food that was being saved for the evening meal upon the return
journey to Cathne.

Tarzan saw Thudos and Gemnon standing beside the chariot in which lay
the still form of the victim. Of what emotions were passing within
their minds none appeared through the masks of stern pride that sat
upon their countenances, yet Tarzan well knew the suffering of their
torn and bleeding hearts. He had not spoken to them once this day, for
he had not had an opportunity to speak to them except in the presence
of others; and whatever he might have to say to them must be for their
ears only. He had not given up the hope of helping them, but he could
not conceive that open and unnecessary familiarity with them at this
time might accomplish anything more than to still further arouse the
suspicions of Nemone and increase the watchfulness of all their enemies.

If Gemnon or Thudos noticed the neglect of their former friend and
guest they gave no sign, for neither gave him any greater attention as
he walked beside the chariot of the Queen a few paces in advance of
them than they gave to the lions drawing the car to which they were
secured. Their thoughts were upon the poor, dumb thing jolting upon the
hard planks that formed the floor of the springless chariot bearing
it to its doom. Not once had they seen the girl move, not once had
she uttered a sound; and they hoped that she was either insensible or
dead, for thus would she be saved the anguish of these last moments and
Nemone be robbed of the essence of her triumph.

The ceremony at Xarator, though it bore the authority of so-called
justice, was of a semi-religious nature that required the presence and
active participation of priests, two of whom lifted the sack containing
the victim from the chariot and placed it at the edge of the crater at
the feet of the Queen.

About it, then, gathered a dozen priests, some of whom carried musical
instruments; and as they chanted in unison, the beating of their drums
rose and fell while the wailing notes of their wind instruments
floated out across the inferno of the seething pit like the plaint of a
lost soul.

Thudos and Gemnon had been brought nearer the spot that Nemone might
enjoy their agony to the full, for this was not only a part of their
punishment but a considerable portion of the pleasure of the Queen.

She saw that they were giving no evidences of grief, thus robbing
her of much of the satisfaction she had hoped to derive from the
destruction of the daughter of one, the sweetheart of the other; and
she was vexed. But she was not entirely discouraged; a new plan to
further try their fortitude had occurred to her.

As two of the priests lifted the body from the ground and were about
to hurl it into the crater, she stopped them with a curt command.
"Wait!" she cried. "We would look upon the too great beauty of Doria,
the daughter of Thudos, the traitor; we would permit her father and her
lover to see her once again that they may better visualize her anguish
and appreciate their own; that all may long remember that it is not
well to conspire against Nemone. Cut the bag, and expose the body of
the sacrifice!"

All eyes were upon the priest who drew his dagger and ripped open the
bag along one loosely sewn seam. The eyes of Thudos and Gemnon were
fixed upon the still figure outlined beneath the tawny skins of lions;
beads of perspiration stood upon their foreheads; their jaws and their
fists were clenched. The eyes of Tarzan turned from the activities
of the priest to the face of the Queen; between narrowed lids, from
beneath stern brows they watched her.

The priests, gathering the bag by one side, raised it and let the body
roll out upon the ground where all could see it. There was a gasp of
astonishment. Nemone cried out in a sudden fit of rage. The body was
that of Erot, and he was dead!



                                  XIX

                          THE QUEEN'S QUARRY


After the first involuntary cries of surprise and rage an ominous
silence fell upon the barbaric scene. Now all eyes were centered upon
the Queen, whose ordinarily beautiful countenance was almost hideous
from rage, a rage which, after her single angry cry, choked further
utterance for the moment. But at length she found her voice and turned
furiously upon Tomos.

"What means this?" she demanded, her voice now controlled and as cold
as the steel in the sheath at her side.

Tomos, who was as much astounded as she, stammered as he trembled in
his sandals of elephant hide. "There are traitors even in the temple of
Thoos!" he cried. "I chose Erot to prepare the girl for the embraces of
Xarator because I knew that his loyalty to his Queen would insure the
work being well done. I did not know, O gracious Nemone, that this vile
crime had been committed or that the body of Erot had been substituted
for that of the daughter of Thudos until this very instant."

With an expression of disgust the Queen commanded the priests to hurl
the body of Erot into the crater, and as it was swallowed by the fiery
pit she ordered an immediate return to Cathne.

In morose and gloomy silence she rode down the winding mountain trail
and out onto the Field of the Lions, and often her eyes were upon the
bronzed giant striding beside her chariot.

At last she broke her silence. "Two of your enemies are gone now," she
said. "I destroyed one; whom do you think destroyed the other?"

"Perhaps I did," suggested Tarzan with a smile.

"I had been thinking of that possibility," replied Nemone, but she did
not smile.

"Whoever did it performed a service for Cathne."

"Perhaps," she half agreed, "but it is not the killing of Erot that
annoys me; it is the effrontery that dared interfere with the plans of
Nemone. Whoever did it has spoiled for me what would otherwise have
been a happy day; nor have they accomplished anything in the interest
of Thudos or his daughter or Gemnon. I shall find the girl, and her
passing will be far more bitter than that from which she was saved
today; she cannot escape me. Thudos and Gemnon will also pay more
heavily because some one dared flout the Queen."

Tarzan shrugged his broad shoulders, but remained silent.

"Why do you not speak?" demanded the Queen.

"There is nothing to say," he replied; "I can only disagree with you
without convincing you; I should only make you more angry than you are.
I find no pleasure in making people angry or unhappy unless it is for
some good purpose."

"You mean that I do?" she demanded.

"Obviously."

She shook her head angrily. "Why do I abide you!" she exclaimed.

"Possibly as a counterirritant to relieve other irritations," he
suggested.

"Some day I shall lose my patience and have you thrown to the lions,"
she ejaculated sharply. "What will you do then?"

"Kill the lion," replied the ape-man.

"Not the lion that I shall throw you to," Nemone assured him.

The tedious journey back to Cathne ended at last, and with flaring
torches lighting the way the Queen's _cortège_ crossed the Bridge of
Gold and entered the city. Here she immediately ordered a thorough
search to be made for Doria.

Thudos and Gemnon, happy but mystified, were returned to their cell to
await the new doom that Nemone would fix for them when the mood again
seized her to be entertained. Tarzan was commanded to accompany Nemone
into the palace and dine with her. Tomos had been dismissed with a
curt injunction to find Doria or prepare for the worst.

Tarzan and the Queen ate alone in a small dining room attended only by
slaves, and when the meal was over Nemone conducted him to the now all
too familiar ivory room, where he was greeted by the angry growls of
Belthar.

"Erot and M'duze are dead," said the Queen, "and I have sent Tomos
away; there will be none to disturb us tonight." Again her voice was
soft, her manner gentle.

The ape-man sat with his eyes fixed upon her, studying her. It seemed
incredible that this sweet and lovely woman could be the cruel tyrant
that was Nemone, the Queen. Every soft line and curving contour spoke
of femininity and gentleness and love; and in those glorious eyes
smoldered a dreamy light that exercised a strange hypnotic influence
upon him, gently pushing the memories of her ruthlessness into the
oblivion of forgetfulness.

She leaned closer to him. "Touch me, Tarzan," she whispered softly.

Drawn by a power that is greater than the will of man he placed a hand
upon hers. She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and leaned her
cheek against his breast; her warm breath caressed his naked skin; the
perfume of her hair was in his nostrils. She spoke, but so low that he
could not catch her words.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Take me in your arms," she breathed faintly.

He passed a palm across his eyes as though to wipe away a mist, and
in the moment of his hesitation she threw her arms about his neck and
covered his face and lips with hot kisses.

"Love me, Tarzan!" she cried passionately. "Love me! Love me! Love me!"

She slipped to the floor until she knelt at his feet. "Oh, Thoos, god
of gods!" she murmured, "how I love you!"

The lord of the jungle looked down at her, at a queen grovelling at his
feet, and the spell that had held him vanished; beneath the beautiful
exterior he saw the crazed mind of a mad woman; he saw the creature
that cast defenseless men to wild beasts, that disfigured or destroyed
women who might be more beautiful than she; and all that was fine in
him revolted.

With a half growl he arose to his feet, and as he did so Nemone slipped
to the floor and lay there silent and rigid. He started toward the
door, and then turned and coming back lifted her to the couch. As he
did so, Belthar strained at his chains and the chamber shook to his
roars.

Nemone opened her eyes and for a moment gazed questioningly at the man
above her; then she seemed to realize what had happened, and the mad,
cruel light of rage blazed in her eyes. Leaping to her feet she stood
trembling before him.

"You refuse my love!" she screamed. "You spurn me? You dare spurn the
love of a Queen! Thoos! and I knelt at your feet!" She sprang to one
side of the room where a metal gong depended from the ceiling and
seizing the striker smote it three times. The brazen notes rang through
the chamber mingling with the roars of the infuriated lion.

Tarzan stood watching her; she seemed wholly irresponsible, quite mad.
It would be useless to attempt to reason with her. He moved slowly
toward the door; but before he reached it it swung open, and a score of
warriors accompanied by two nobles rushed in.

"Take this man!" ordered Nemone. "Throw him into the cell with the
other enemies of the Queen!"

Tarzan was unarmed. He had worn only a sword when he entered the ivory
room and that he had unbuckled and laid upon a stand near the doorway.
There were twenty spears levelled at him, twenty spears that entirely
encircled him. With a shrug he surrendered. It was that or death. In
prison he might find the means to escape; at least he would see Gemnon
again, and there was something that he very much wished to tell Gemnon
and Thudos.

As the soldiers conducted him from the room and the door closed behind
them, Nemone threw herself among the cushions of her couch, her body
wracked by choking sobs. The great lion grumbled in the dusky corner
of the room. Suddenly Nemone sat erect and her eyes blazed into the
blazing eyes of the lion. For a moment she sat there thus, and then
she arose and a peal of maniacal laughter broke from her lips. Still
laughing, she crossed the room and passed through the doorway that led
to her bedchamber.

Thudos and Gemnon sitting in their cell heard the tramp of marching men
approaching the prison in which they were confined. "Evidently Nemone
cannot wait until tomorrow," said Thudos.

"You think she is sending for us now?" asked Gemnon.

"What else?" demanded the older man. "The lion pit can be illuminated."

As they waited and listened the steps stopped outside their cell, the
door was pushed open, and a man entered. The warriors had carried no
torches and neither Thudos nor Gemnon could discern the features of
the newcomer, though in the diffused light that filtered in through
the small window and the aperture in the door they noted that he was a
large man.

None of them spoke until the guard had departed out of earshot.
"Greetings, Thudos and Gemnon!" exclaimed the new prisoner cheerily.

"Tarzan!" exclaimed Gemnon.

"None other," admitted the ape-man.

"What brings you here?" demanded Thudos.

"Twenty warriors and the whim of a woman, an insane woman," replied
Tarzan.

"So you have fallen from favor!" exclaimed Gemnon. "I am sorry."

"It was inevitable," said Tarzan.

"And what will your punishment be?"

"I do not know, but I suspect that it will be quite sufficient.
However, that is something that need not concern any of us until it
happens; maybe it won't happen."

"There is no room in the dungeon of Nemone for optimism," remarked
Thudos with a grim laugh.

"Perhaps not," agreed the ape-man, "but I shall continue to indulge
myself. Doubtless Doria felt hopeless in her prison in the temple last
night, yet she escaped Xarator."

"That is a miracle that I cannot fathom," said Gemnon.

"It was quite simple," Tarzan assured him. "A loyal friend, whose
identity you may guess, came and told me that she was a prisoner in the
temple. I went at once to find her. Fortunately the trees of Cathne
are old and large and numerous; one of them grows close to the rear
of the temple, its branches almost brushing the window of the room in
which Doria was confined. When I arrived there, I found Erot annoying
Doria; I also found the sack in which he had purposed tying her for the
journey to Xarator. What was simpler? I let Erot take the ride that had
been planned for Doria."

"You saved her! Where is she?" cried Thudos, his voice breaking in the
first emotion he had displayed since he had learned of his daughter's
plight.

"Come close," cautioned Tarzan, "lest the walls themselves be enemies."
The two men pressed close to the speaker who continued in a low
whisper, "Do you recall, Gemnon, that when we were at the gold mine I
spoke aside to one of the slaves there?"

"I believe that I did notice it," replied Gemnon; "I thought you were
asking questions about the operation of the mine."

"No; I was delivering a message from his brother, and so grateful was
he that he begged that he be permitted to serve me if the opportunity
arose. It was to arise much sooner than either of us could have
expected; and so, when it was necessary to find a hiding place for
Doria, I thought immediately of the isolated hut of Niaka, the headman
of the black slaves at the gold mine.

"She is there now, and the man will protect her as long as is
necessary. He has promised me that if he hears nothing from me for half
a moon he is to understand that none of us three can come to her aid,
and that then he will get word to the faithful slaves of the house of
Thudos. He says that that will be difficult but not impossible."

"Doria safe!" whispered Gemnon. "Thudos and I may now die happy."

Thudos extended his hand through the darkness and laid it on the
ape-man's shoulder. "There is no way in which I can express my
gratitude," he said, "for there are no words in which to couch it."

For some time the three men sat in silence that was broken at last by
Gemnon. "How did it happen that you knew the brother of a slave well
enough to carry a message from one to the other?" he asked, a note of
puzzlement in his voice.

"Do you recall Xerstle's grand hunt?" asked Tarzan with a laugh.

"Of course, but what has that to do with it?" demanded Gemnon.

"Do you remember the quarry, the man we saw on the slave block in the
market place?"

"Yes."

"He is the brother of Niaka," explained Tarzan.

"But you never had an opportunity to speak to him," objected the young
noble.

"Oh, but I did. It was I who helped him escape. That was why his
brother was so grateful to me."

"I still do not understand," said Gemnon.

"There is probably much connected with Xerstle's grand hunt that you do
not understand," suggested Tarzan. "In the first place, the purpose of
the hunt was, primarily, to destroy me rather than the nominal quarry;
the scheme was probably hatched between Xerstle and Erot. In the second
place, I didn't approve of the ethics of the hunters; the poor devil
they were chasing had no chance. I went ahead, therefore, through the
trees until I overtook the black; then I carried him for a mile to
throw the lions off the scent. You know how well the plan succeeded.

"When I came back and we laid the wager, that gave Xerstle and Pindes
the opening they wished but which they would have found by some other
means before the day was over; so Pindes took me with him; and after we
were far enough away from you he suggested that we separate, whereupon
he loosed his lion upon me."

"And it was you who killed the lion?"

"I should have much preferred to have killed Pindes and Xerstle, but I
felt that the time was not yet ripe. Now, perhaps, I shall never have
the opportunity to kill them," he added regretfully.

"Now I am doubly sorry that I must die," said Gemnon.

"Why more so than before?" asked Thudos.

"I shall never have the opportunity to tell the story of Xerstle's
grand hunt," he explained. "What a story that would make!"

The morning dawned bright and beautiful, just as though there was
no misery or sorrow or cruelty in the world; but it did not change
matters at all, other than to make the cell in which the three men were
confined uncomfortably warm as the day progressed.

Shortly after noon a guard came and took Tarzan away. All three of the
prisoners were acquainted with the officer who commanded it, a decent
fellow who spoke sympathetically to them.

"Is he coming back?" asked Thudos, nodding toward Tarzan.

The officer shook his head. "No; the Queen hunts today."

Thudos and Gemnon pressed the ape-man's shoulder. No word was spoken,
but that wordless farewell was more eloquent than words. They saw him
go out, saw the door close behind him; but neither spoke, and so they
sat for a long hour in silence.

In the guardroom, to which he had been conducted from his cell, Tarzan
was heavily chained; a golden collar was placed about his neck, and a
chain reaching from each side of it was held in the hands of a warrior.

"Why all the precautions?" demanded the ape-man.

"It is merely a custom," explained the officer; "it is always thus that
the Queen's quarry is led to the Field of the Lions."

Once again Tarzan of the Apes walked near the chariot of the Queen of
Cathne; but this time he walked behind it, a chained prisoner between
two stalwart warriors and surrounded by a score of others. Once again
he crossed the Bridge of Gold out onto the Field of the Lions in the
valley of Onthar.

The procession did not go far, scarcely more than a mile from the city.
A great concourse of people accompanied it, for Nemone had invited the
entire city to witness the degradation and death of the man who had
spurned her love. She was about to be avenged, but she was not happy.
With scowling brows she sat brooding in her chariot as it stopped at
last at the point she had selected for the start of the hunt. Not once
had she turned to look at the chained man behind her. Perhaps she had
been certain that she would have been rewarded by no indication of
terror in his mien, or perhaps she did not dare to look at the man she
had loved for fear that her determination might weaken.

But now that the time had come she cast her indecision aside, if any
had been annoying her, and ordered the guard to fetch the prisoner to
her. She was looking straight ahead as the ape-man halted by the wheel
of her chariot.

"Send all away except the two warriors who hold him," commanded Nemone.

"You may send them, too, if you wish," said Tarzan; "I give you my word
not to harm you or try to escape while they are away."

Nemone, still looking straight ahead, was silent for a moment; then,
"You may all go; I would speak with the prisoner alone."

When the guard had departed a number of paces, the Queen turned her
eyes toward Tarzan and found his smiling into her own. "You are going
to be very happy, Nemone," he said in an easy, friendly voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "How am I going to be happy?"

"You are going to see me die; that is if the lion catches me," he
laughed, "and you like to see people die."

"You think that will give me pleasure? Well, I thought so myself; but
now I am wondering if it will. I never get quite the pleasure from
death that I anticipate I shall; nothing in life is ever what I hope
for."

"Possibly you don't hope for the right things," he suggested. "Did you
ever try hoping for something that would bring pleasure and happiness
to some one beside yourself?"

"Why should I?" she asked. "I hope for my own happiness; let others do
the same. I strive for my own happiness--"

"And never have any," interrupted the ape-man good-naturedly.

"Probably I should have less if I strove only for the happiness of
others," she insisted.

"There are people like that," he assented; "perhaps you are one of
them; so you might as well go on striving for happiness in your own
way. Of course you won't get it, but you will at least have the
pleasures of anticipation, and that is something."

"I think I know myself and my own affairs well enough to determine for
myself how to conduct my life," she said with a note of asperity in her
voice.

Tarzan shrugged. "It was not in my thoughts to interfere," he said. "If
you are determined to kill me and are quite sure that you will derive
pleasure from it, why, I should be the last in the world to suggest
that you abandon the idea."

"You do not amuse me," said Nemone haughtily; "I do not care for irony
that is aimed at myself." She turned fiercely on him. "Men have died
for less!" she cried, and the lord of the jungle laughed in her face.

"How many times?" he asked.

"A moment ago," said Nemone, "I was beginning to regret the thing
that is about to happen. Had you been different, had you sought to
conciliate me, I might have relented and returned you to favor; but
you do everything to antagonize me. You affront me, you insult me, you
laugh at me." Her voice was rising, a barometric indication, Tarzan had
learned, of her mental state.

"And yet, Nemone, I am drawn to you," admitted the ape-man. "I cannot
understand it. You are attracted to me in spite of wounded pride
and lacerated dignity; and I to you though I hold in contempt your
principles, your ideals, and your methods. It is strange, isn't it?"

The woman nodded. "It is strange," she mused. "I never loved one as I
loved you, and yet I am going to kill you notwithstanding the fact that
I still love you."

"And you will go on killing people and being unhappy until it is your
turn to be killed," he said sadly.

She shuddered. "Killed!" she repeated. "Yes, they are all killed, the
kings and queens of Cathne; but it is not my turn yet. While Belthar
lives Nemone lives." She was silent for a moment. "You may live too,
Tarzan; there is something that I would rather see you do than see you
die." She paused as though expecting him to ask her what it was, but he
manifested no interest, and she continued, "Last night I knelt at your
feet and begged for your love. Kneel here, before my people, kneel at
my feet and beg for mercy, and you may live."

"Bring on your lion," said Tarzan; "his mercy might be kinder than
Nemone's."

"You refuse?" she demanded angrily.

"You would kill me eventually," he replied; "there is a chance that the
lion may not be able to."

"Not a chance!" she said. "Have you seen the lion?"

"No."

She turned and called a noble, "Have the hunting lion brought to scent
the quarry!"

Behind them there was a scattering of troops and nobles as they made
an avenue for the hunting lion and his keepers, and along the avenue
Tarzan saw a great lion straining at the golden leashes to which eight
men clung. Growling and roaring, the beast sprang from side to side in
an effort to seize a keeper or lay hold upon one of the warriors or
nobles that lined the way; so that it was all that four stalwart men on
either side of him could do to prevent his accomplishing his design.

A flaming-eyed devil, he came toward the chariot of Nemone, but he was
still afar when Tarzan saw the tuft of white hair in the center of his
mane between his ears. It was Belthar!

Nemone was eyeing the man at her side as a cat might eye a mouse, but
though the lion was close now she saw no change in the expression on
Tarzan's face. "Do you not recognize him?" she demanded.

"Of course I do," he replied.

"And you are not afraid?"

"Of what?" he asked, looking at her wonderingly.

She stamped her foot in anger, thinking that he was trying to rob her
of the satisfaction of witnessing his terror; for how could she know
that Tarzan of the Apes could not understand the meaning of _fear_?
"Prepare for the grand hunt!" she commanded, turning to a noble
standing with the guard that had waited just out of earshot of her
conversation with the quarry.

The warriors who had held Tarzan in leash ran forward and picked up the
golden chains that were attached to the golden collar about his neck,
the guard took posts about the chariot of the Queen, and Tarzan was led
a few yards in advance of it. Then the keepers brought Belthar closer
to him, holding him just out of reach but only with difficulty, for
when the irascible beast recognized the ape-man he flew into a frenzy
of rage that taxed the eight men to hold him at all.

Warriors were deploying on either side of a wide lane leading toward
the north from the chariot of Nemone. In solid ranks they formed on
either side of this avenue, facing toward its center, their spear
points dropped to form a wall of steel against the lion should he
desert the chase and break to right or left. Behind them, craning necks
to see above the shoulders of the fighting men, the populace pushed and
shoved for advantageous points from which to view the spectacle.

A noble approached Tarzan. He was Phordos, the father of Gemnon,
hereditary captain of the hunt for the rulers of Cathne. He came quite
close to Tarzan and spoke to him in a low whisper, "I am sorry that I
must have a part in this," he said, "but my office requires it," and
then aloud, "In the name of the Queen, silence! These are the rules
of the grand hunt of Nemone, Queen of Cathne: The quarry shall move
north down the center of the lane of warriors; when he has proceeded
a hundred paces the keepers shall unleash the hunting lion, Belthar;
let no man distract the lion from the chase or aid the quarry, under
penalty of death. When the lion has killed and while he is feeding let
the keepers guarded by warriors, retake him."

Then he turned to Tarzan. "You will run straight north until Belthar
overtakes you," he said.

"What if I elude him and escape?" demanded the ape-man. "Shall I have
my freedom then?"

Phordos shook his head sadly. "You will not escape him," he said.
Then he turned toward the Queen and knelt. "All is in readiness, your
majesty. Shall the hunt commence?"

Nemone looked quickly about her. She saw that the guards were so
disposed that she might be protected in the event that the lion turned
back; she saw that slaves from her stables carried great nets with
which Belthar was to be retaken after the hunt. She knew and they knew
that not all of them would return alive to Cathne, but that would but
add to the interest and excitement of the day. She nodded her head to
Phordos. "Let the lion scent the quarry once more; then the hunt may
start," she directed.

The keepers let Belthar move a little closer to the ape-man, but not
before they had enlisted the aid of a dozen additional men to prevent
his dragging the original eight until he was within reach of the quarry.

Nemone leaned forward eagerly, her eyes upon the savage beast that was
the pride of her stable; the light of insanity gleamed in them now. "It
is enough!" she cried. "Belthar knows him now, nor will he ever leave
his trail until he has tracked him down and killed him, until he has
reaped his reward and filled his belly with the flesh of his kill, for
there is no better hunting lion in all Cathne than Belthar."

Along the gantlet of warriors that the quarry and the lion were to run
spears had been stuck into the ground at intervals, and floating from
the hafts of these were different colored pennons. The populace, the
nobles, and the Queen had laid wagers upon the color of the pennon
nearest which they thought the kill would occur, and they were still
betting when Phordos slipped the collar from Tarzan's neck.

In a hollow near the river that runs past Cathne a lion lay asleep
in dense brush, a mighty beast with a yellow coat and a great black
mane. Strange sounds coming to him from the plain disturbed him, and
he rumbled complainingly in his throat; but as yet he seemed only
half awake. His eyes were closed, but his half wakefulness was only
seeming. Numa was awake, but he wanted to sleep and was angry with
the men-things that were disturbing him. They were not too close as
yet; but he knew that if they came closer he would have to get up and
investigate, and that he did not want to do; he felt very lazy.

Out on the field Tarzan was striding along the spear-bound lane. He
counted his steps, knowing that at the hundredth Belthar would be
loosed upon him. The ape-man had a plan. Across the river to the east
was the forest in which he had hunted with Xerstle and Pindes and
Gemnon; could he reach it, he would be safe. No lion or no man could
hope ever to overtake the lord of the jungle once he swung to the
branches of those trees.

But could he reach the wood before Belthar overtook him? Tarzan was
swift, but there are few creatures as swift as Numa at the height of
his charge. With a start of a hundred paces, the ape-man felt that he
might outdistance an ordinary lion; but Belthar was no ordinary lion.
He was the result of generations of breeding that had resulted in the
power of sustaining great speed for a much longer time than would have
been possible for a wild lion, and of all the hunting lions of Cathne
Belthar was the best.

At the hundredth pace Tarzan leaped forward at top speed. Behind him he
heard the frenzied roar of the hunting lion as his leashes were slipped
and, mingling with it, the roar of the crowd.

Smoothly and low ran Belthar, the hunting lion, swiftly closing up the
distance that separated him from the quarry. He looked neither to right
nor to left; his fierce, blazing eyes remained fixed upon the fleeing
man ahead.

Behind him rolled the chariot of the Queen, the drivers goading their
lions to greater speed that Nemone might be in at the kill, yet Belthar
outdistanced them as though they were rooted to the ground. The Queen,
in her excitement, was standing erect, screaming encouragement to
Belthar. Her eyes blazed scarcely less fiercely than those of the
savage carnivore she cheered on; her bosoms rose and fell to her
excited breathing; her heart raced with the racing death ahead. The
Queen of Cathne was consumed by the passion of love turned to hate.

The nobles, the warriors, and the crowd were streaming after the
chariot of the Queen. Belthar was gaining on the quarry when Tarzan
turned suddenly to the east toward the river after he had passed
the end of the gantlet that had held him to a straight path at the
beginning of his flight.

A scream of rage burst from the lips of Nemone as she saw and realized
the purpose of the quarry. A sullen roar rose from the pursuing crowd.
They had not thought that the hunted man had a chance, but now they
understood that he might yet reach the river and the forest. This, of
course, did not mean to them that he would then escape, for they well
knew that Belthar would pursue him across the river; what they feared
was that they might be robbed of the thrills of witnessing the kill.

But presently their anger turned to relief as they saw that Belthar was
gaining on the man so rapidly that there was no chance that the latter
might reach the river before he was overhauled and dragged down.

Tarzan, too, glancing back over a bronzed shoulder, realized that the
end was near. The river was still two hundred yards away and the lion,
steadily gaining on him, but fifty.

Then the ape-man turned and waited. He stood at ease, his arms hanging
at his side; but he was alert and ready. He knew precisely what Belthar
would do, and he knew what he would do. No amount of training would
have changed the lion's instinctive method of attack; he would rush at
Tarzan, rear upon his hind feet when close, seize him with his taloned
paws and drive his great fangs through his head or neck or shoulder;
then he would drag him down and devour him.

But Tarzan had met the charge of lions before. It would not be quite
so easy for Belthar as Belthar and the screaming audience believed,
yet the ape-man guessed that, without a knife, he could do no more
than delay the inevitable. He would die fighting, however; and now, as
Belthar charged growling upon him, he crouched slightly and answered
the roaring challenge of the carnivore with a roar as savage as the
lion's.

Suddenly he detected a new note in the voice of the crowd; a note of
surprise and consternation. Belthar was almost upon him as a tawny body
streaked past the ape-man, brushing his leg as it came from behind him;
and as Belthar rose upon his hind feet fell upon him, a fury of talons
and gleaming fangs, a great lion with a golden coat and a black mane--a
mighty engine of rage and destruction.

Roaring and growling, the two great beasts rolled upon the ground as
they tore at one another with teeth and claws while the astounded
ape-man looked on and the chariot of the Queen approached, and the
breathless crowd pressed forward.

The strange lion was larger than Belthar and more powerful, a giant of
a lion in the full prime of his strength and ferocity; and he fought
as one inspired by all the demons of Hell. Presently Belthar gave him
an opening; and his great jaws closed upon the throat of the hunting
lion of Nemone, jaws that drove mighty fangs through the thick mane of
his adversary, through hide and flesh deep into the jugular of Belthar;
then he braced his feet and shook Belthar as a cat might shake a mouse,
breaking his neck.

Dropping the carcass to the ground, the victor faced the astonished
Cathneans with snarling face; then he slowly backed to where the
ape-man stood and stopped beside him, and Tarzan laid his hand upon the
black mane of Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion.

For a long moment there was unbroken silence as the two faced the
enemies of the lord of the jungle, and the awed Cathneans only stood
and stared; then a woman's voice rose in a weird scream. It was Nemone.
Slowly she stepped from her golden car and amidst utter silence walked
toward the carcass of the dead Belthar while her people watched her,
motionless and wondering.

She stopped with her sandalled feet touching the bloody mane of the
hunting lion and gazed down upon the dead carnivore. She might have
been in silent prayer for the minute that she stood there; then she
raised her head suddenly and looked about her. There was a wild gleam
in her eyes and she was very white, white as the ivory ornament in the
hollow of her throat.

"Belthar is dead!" she screamed, and whipping her dagger from its
sheath drove its glittering point deep into her own heart. Without a
sound she sank to her knees and toppled forward across the body of the
dead Belthar.

       *       *       *       *       *

As the moon rose, Tarzan placed a final rock upon a mound of earth
beside the river that runs to Cathne through the valley of Onthar.

The warriors and the nobles and the people had followed Phordos to the
city to empty the dungeons of Nemone and proclaim Alextar King, leaving
their dead Queen lying at the edge of the Field of the Lions with the
dead Belthar.

The human service they had neglected the beast-man had performed, and
now beneath the soft radiance of an African moon he stood with bowed
head beside the grave of a woman who had found happiness at last.



                      TARZAN AND THE CITY OF GOLD

When Tarzan rescued a strange white savage in the remotest part of
unexplored Africa it was to learn for the first time of two contending
wonder cities hidden there.

One was the City of Gold, whose people raised and worshipped lions. The
other the City of Ivory, whose gods were elephants.

Caught between these two warring barbarisms, it was to take every bit
of Tarzan's lion-lore, elephant skill, and jungle talent to win over
the incredible odds.



*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Tarzan and the city of gold" ***


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