"Tarzan-jad-guru! He was worse than
that."
5
In the Kor-ul-gryf
As Tarzan fell among his enemies a man halted many miles away upon
the outer verge of the morass that encircles Pal-ul-don. Naked he
was except for a loin cloth and three belts of cartridges, two of
which passed over his shoulders, crossing upon his chest and back,
while the third encircled his waist. Slung to his back by its leathern
sling-strap was an Enfield, and he carried too a long knife, a bow
and a quiver of arrows. He had come far, through wild and savage
lands, menaced by fierce beasts and fiercer men, yet intact to the
last cartridge was the ammunition that had filled his belts the
day that he set out.
The bow and the arrows and the long knife had brought him thus far
safely, yet often in the face of great risks that could have been
minimized by a single shot from the well-kept rifle at his back.
What purpose might he have for conserving this precious ammunition?
in risking his life to bring the last bright shining missile to his
unknown goal? For what, for whom were these death-dealing bits of
metal preserved? In all the world only he knew.
When Pan-at-lee stepped over the edge of the cliff above Kor-ul-lul
she expected to be dashed to instant death upon the rocks below;
but she had chosen this in preference to the rending fangs of ja.
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