The Son of Tarzan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 101

jungle.




Chapter 13


Meriem, again bound and under heavy guard in Kovudoo's own hut, saw the
night pass and the new day come without bringing the momentarily looked
for return of Korak. She had no doubt but that he would come back and
less still that he would easily free her from her captivity. To her
Korak was little short of omnipotent. He embodied for her all that was
finest and strongest and best in her savage world. She gloried in his
prowess and worshipped him for the tender thoughtfulness that always
had marked his treatment of her. No other within the ken of her memory
had ever accorded her the love and gentleness that was his daily
offering to her. Most of the gentler attributes of his early childhood
had long since been forgotten in the fierce battle for existence which
the customs of the mysterious jungle had forced upon him. He was more
often savage and bloodthirsty than tender and kindly. His other
friends of the wild looked for no gentle tokens of his affection. That
he would hunt with them and fight for them was sufficient. If he
growled and showed his fighting fangs when they trespassed upon his
inalienable rights to the fruits of his kills they felt no anger toward
him--only greater respect for the efficient and the fit--for him who
could not only kill but protect the flesh of his kill.

But toward Meriem he always had shown more of his human side. He
killed primarily for her. It was to the feet of Meriem that he brought
the fruits of his labors. It was for Meriem more than for himself that
he squatted beside his flesh and growled ominously at whosoever dared
sniff too closely to it. When he was cold in the dark days of rain, or
thirsty in a prolonged drouth, his discomfort engendered first of all
thoughts of Meriem's welfare--after she had been made warm, after her
thirst had been slaked, then he turned to the affair of ministering to
his own wants.

The softest skins fell gracefully from the graceful shoulders of his
Meriem. The sweetest-scented grasses lined her bower where other soft,
furry pelts made hers the downiest couch in all the jungle.

What wonder then that Meriem loved her Korak? But she loved him as a
little sister might love a big brother who was very good to her. As
yet she knew naught of the love of a maid for a man.

So now as

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