But the seed of fear was deep sown, and had he but known

it, Tarzan of the Apes had laid the foundation for much

future misery for himself and his tribe.

That night he slept in the forest not far from the village,

and early the next morning set out slowly on his homeward

march, hunting as he traveled. Only a few berries and an

occasional grub worm rewarded his search, and he was half

famished when, looking up from a log he had been rooting

beneath, he saw Sabor, the lioness, standing in the center

of the trail not twenty paces from him.

The great yellow eyes were fixed upon him with a wicked

and baleful gleam, and the red tongue licked the longing lips

as Sabor crouched, worming her stealthy way with belly

flattened against the earth.

Tarzan did not attempt to escape. He welcomed the

opportunity for which, in fact, he had been searching for

days past, now that he was armed with something more than a

rope of grass.

Quickly he unslung his bow and fitted a well-daubed arrow,

and as Sabor sprang, the tiny missile leaped to meet her

in mid-air. At the same instant Tarzan of the Apes jumped

to one side, and as the great cat struck the ground beyond

him another death-tipped arrow sunk deep into Sabor's loin.

With a mighty roar the beast turned and charged once

more, only to be met with a third arrow full in one eye; but

this time she was too close to the ape-man for the latter to

sidestep the onrushing body.

Tarzan of the Apes went down beneath the great body of

his enemy, but with gleaming knife drawn and striking home.

For a moment they lay there, and then Tarzan realized that

the inert mass lying upon him was beyond power ever again

to injure man or ape.

With difficulty he wriggled from beneath the great weight,

and as he stood erect and gazed down upon the trophy of his

skill, a mighty wave of exultation swept over him.