Jungle Tales of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 103

at the proximity of that raw face to his. The
hyenas had had enough and disappeared through the small aperture
leading into the cave. Tarzan had little difficulty in overpowering
and binding Bukawai. Then he led him to the very tree to which he had
been bound; but in binding Bukawai, Tarzan saw to it that escape after
the same fashion that he had escaped would be out of the question; then
he left him.

As he passed through the winding corridors and the subterranean
apartments, Tarzan saw nothing of the hyenas.

"They will return," he said to himself.

In the crater between the towering walls Bukawai, cold with terror,
trembled, trembled as with ague.

"They will return!" he cried, his voice rising to a fright-filled
shriek.

And they did.




8

The Lion

NUMA, THE LION, crouched behind a thorn bush close beside the drinking
pool where the river eddied just below the bend. There was a ford
there and on either bank a well-worn trail, broadened far out at the
river's brim, where, for countless centuries, the wild things of the
jungle and of the plains beyond had come down to drink, the carnivora
with bold and fearless majesty, the herbivora timorous, hesitating,
fearful.

Numa, the lion, was hungry, he was very hungry, and so he was quite
silent now. On his way to the drinking place he had moaned often and
roared not a little; but as he neared the spot where he would lie in
wait for Bara, the deer, or Horta, the boar, or some other of the many
luscious-fleshed creatures who came hither to drink, he was silent. It
was a grim, a terrible silence, shot through with yellow-green light of
ferocious eyes, punctuated with undulating tremors of sinuous tail.

It was Pacco, the zebra, who came first, and Numa, the lion, could
scarce restrain a roar of anger, for of all the plains people, none are
more wary than Pacco, the zebra. Behind the black-striped stallion
came a herd of thirty or forty of the plump and vicious little
horselike beasts. As he neared the river, the leader paused often,
cocking his ears and raising his muzzle to sniff the gentle breeze for
the tell-tale scent spoor of the dread flesh-eaters.

Numa shifted uneasily,

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