"You dare not," taunted Tarzan, "for you know that I would be struck
dead no quicker than were you."
"You lie," cried Lu-don, "and I would do it had I not but just
received a message from Jad-ben-Otho directing that your fate be
different."
A chorus of admiring and reverential "Ahs" arose from the priesthood.
Ko-tan and his warriors were in a state of mental confusion. Secretly
they hated and feared Lu-don, but so ingrained was their sense of
reverence for the office of the high priest that none dared raise
a voice against him.
None? Well, there was Ja-don, fearless old Lion-man of the north.
"The proposition was a fair one," he cried. "Invoke the lightnings
of Jad-ben-Otho upon this man if you would ever convince us of his
guilt."
"Enough of this," snapped Lu-don. "Since when was Ja-don created high
priest? Seize the prisoner," he cried to the priests and warriors,
"and on the morrow he shall die in the manner that Jad-ben-Otho
has willed."
There was no immediate movement on the part of any of the warriors
to obey the high priest's command, but the lesser priests on the
other hand, imbued with the courage of fanaticism leaped eagerly
forward like a flock of hideous harpies to seize upon their prey.
The game was up. That Tarzan knew. No longer could cunning and
diplomacy usurp the functions of the weapons of defense he best
loved.
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