the Cro-Magnard crouch to meet certain
death. In the single instant that elapsed before Sadu reached him, she
saw Tharn's hands were empty.

And then her jaw dropped and her eyes flew wide with amazement. Tharn
had leaped forward and sent his shoulder crashing into the side of the
soaring brute. Sadu, caught off balance, spun sideways and fell heavily.
He was up instantly, growling horribly, and in mad frenzy turned upon
Tharn.

What Dylara witnessed then was something that was to go down in the folk
lore of future generations of the Cro-Magnard people. She saw the
clenched fingers of the man swing forward with every ounce of power in
that mighty arm, backed by the insane fury of utter desperation.

The iron fist struck Sadu full between the eyes, crushing the skull like
a hollow melon and driving splinters of bone into that savage brain.

Dylara, weak with relief, felt her knees buckle as the lion sank
lifeless to the ground. Tharn, his knuckles throbbing with pain, jumped
forward and caught her about the waist. She turned her face to him,
then, and he saw that her eyes were wet with tears.

Her warm red lips, slightly parted, were very near his own. Drawn by an
irresistible impulse, Tharn bent his head to meet them. The girl saw the
clean, firm mouth come close, yet she did not shrink away. Something was
stirring deep within her--something that had never known life before
this moment--something she had no time to analyze.

Suddenly she wanted more than anything else to feel that mouth pressed
against her own. She lifted her face for Tharn's kiss....

"Dylara!" said a quiet voice.

* * * * *

The man and the girl sprang apart. Facing them, now, was a group of
eight Sepharian warriors, a tall, broad-shouldered young man at their
head.

Dylara knew the leader at once. It was Jotan. She saw that his
expression was very stern, and she knew instinctively that he was
thinking of her in Tharn's embrace.

Jotan ignored the cave-man. "We have been searching for you, Dylara," he
said quietly. "Come, we shall return to Sephar at once."

Before she could frame a reply, Tharn had stepped in front of her. There
followed a tense, electric moment of silence as the two men eyed each
other.

"She is mine," Tharn said, without heat. "She goes with me."

Jotan gestured with one hand. In response, seven spears were leveled at
the cave-man's naked chest.

"You are wrong, my friend," said th