Lions,
d' don.
_______________________________________________________________
Hidden amidst the plant life from the sight of any who might
chance to pass along the well-beaten trail that skirted the river
Pan-at-lee sought rest and food, the latter growing in abundance
all about her in the form of fruits and berries and succulent tubers
which she scooped from the earth with the knife of the dead Es-sat.
Ah! if she had but known that he was dead! What trials and risks
and terrors she might have been saved; but she thought that he
still lived and so she dared not return to Kor-ul-ja. At least not
yet while his rage was at white heat. Later, perhaps, her father
and brothers returned to their cave, she might risk it; but not
now--not now. Nor could she for long remain here in the neighborhood
of the hostile Kor-ul-lul and somewhere she must find safety from
beasts before the night set in.
As she sat upon the bole of a fallen tree seeking some solution
of the problem of existence that confronted her, there broke upon
her ears from up the gorge the voices of shouting men--a sound that
she recognized all too well. It was the war cry of the Kor-ul-lul.
Closer and closer it approached her hiding place. Then, through
the veil of foliage she caught glimpses of three figures fleeing
along the trail, and behind them the shouting of the pursuers rose
louder and louder as they neared her.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90