Pan-at-lee was listening intently to the sounds of the departing
gryfs as Tarzan led them cunningly from her, and when she was sure
that they were far enough away to insure her safe retreat she dropped
swiftly from the branches to the ground and sped like a frightened
deer across the open space to the foot of the cliff, stepped over
the body of the Tor-o-don who had attacked her the night before and
was soon climbing rapidly up the ancient stone pegs of the deserted
cliff village. In the mouth of the cave near that which she had
occupied she kindled a fire and cooked the haunch of venison that
Tarzan had left her, and from one of the trickling streams that
ran down the face of the escarpment she obtained water to satisfy
her thirst.
All day she waited, hearing in the distance, and sometimes close at
hand, the bellowing of the gryfs which pursued the strange creature
that had dropped so miraculously into her life. For him she felt
the same keen, almost fanatical loyalty that many another had
experienced for Tarzan of the Apes. Beast and human, he had held
them to him with bonds that were stronger than steel--those of them
that were clean and courageous, and the weak and the helpless; but
never could Tarzan claim among his admirers the coward, the ingrate
or the scoundrel; from such, both man and beast, he had won fear
and hatred.
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