that Numa recognized
him, for he knew his fellows of the jungle well enough to know that
while they oft-times forgot certain sensations more quickly than
man there are others which remain in their memories for years. A
well-defined scent spoor might never be forgotten by a beast if it
had first been sensed under unusual circumstances, and so Tarzan
was confident that Numa's nose had already reminded him of all the
circumstances of their brief connection.

Love of the sporting chance is inherent in the Anglo-Saxon race and
it was not now Tarzan of the Apes but rather John Clayton, Lord
Greystoke, who smilingly welcomed the sporting chance which he must
take to discover how far-reaching was Numa's gratitude.

Smith-Oldwick and the girl saw the two nearing each other. The
former swore softly beneath his breath while he nervously fingered
the pitiful weapon at his hip. The girl pressed her open palms to
her cheeks as she leaned forward in stony-eyed, horror-stricken
silence. While she had every confidence in the prowess of the godlike
creature who thus dared brazenly to face the king of beasts, she
had no false conception of what must certainly happen when they
met. She had seen Tarzan battle with Sheeta, the panther, and she
had realized then that powerful as the man was, it was only agility,
cunning, and chance that placed him upon anywhere near an equal
footing with his savage adversary, and that of the three factors
upon his side chance was the greatest.

She saw the man and the lion stop simultaneously, not more than
a yard apart. She saw the beast's tail whipping from side to side
and she could hear his deep-throated growls rumbling from his
cavernous breast, but she could read correctly neither the movement
of the lashing tail nor the notes of the growl.

To her they seemed to indicate nothing but bestial rage while to
Tarzan of the Apes they were conciliatory and reassuring in the
extreme. And then she saw Numa move forward again until his nose
touched the man's naked leg and she closed her eyes and covered
them with her palms. For what seemed an eternity she waited for
the horrid sound of the conflict which she knew must come, but all
she heard was an explosive sigh of relief from Smith-Oldwick and
a half-hysterical "By Jove! Just fancy it!"

She looked up to see the great lion rubbing his shaggy head against
the man's hip, and Tarzan's free hand entangled in the black mane
as he scratched Numa, the lion,