Tarzan the Terrible

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 38

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. Instead,
chance had ordained that she make the frightful plunge at a point where
the tumbling river swung close beneath the overhanging cliff to eddy
for a slow moment in a deep pool before plunging madly downward again
in a cataract of boiling foam, and water thundering against rocks.

Into this icy pool the girl shot, and down and down beneath the watery
surface until, half choked, yet fighting bravely, she battled her way
once more to air. Swimming strongly she made the opposite shore and
there dragged herself out upon the bank to lie panting and spent until
the approaching dawn warned her to seek concealment, for she was in the
country of her people's enemies.

Rising, she moved into the concealment of the rank vegetation that
grows so riotously in the well-watered kors[1] of Pal-ul-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. Again she caught sight of the fugitives crossing the
river below the cataract and again they were lost to sight. And now the
pursuers came into view--shouting Kor-ul-lul warriors, fierce and
implacable. Forty,

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