this lovely girl was pride of race and a faint contempt for these
comparatively frail and dull-witted people.

"No," she said, head held high, "I am not a Sepharian. I am the daughter
of Majok, chief of a tribe. I was captured by the Sepharians and I was
given to Jotan."

The man's bow was a travesty on humbleness. "It is an honor to meet a
slave of the noble Jotan. I am Ekbar, captain of the guard of the noble
Vokal. You will find my master one who can properly appreciate such
beauty and charm as yours. Come, let us hasten on that you may the
quicker become known to him!"

Dylara felt the blood drain from her face. "You fool! Do you think the
noble Jotan would allow such to happen? Were your master to lay so much
as a hand on me, Jotan would kill him!"

"You think Jotan's slaves mean so much to him?" Ekbar said mockingly.

"I am no slave," Dylara blazed. "I am to be Jotan's mate."

The other's smile broadened. "I'm afraid Jotan is past needing a mate.
You see, Jotan is dead!"

CHAPTER IX

TRAKOR'S MISTAKE

It was close to nightfall when Tharn and Trakor reached the clearing
where Jotan's party had been attacked by lions several nights before.
Ashes from the long-dead fires still showed their outlines, tracked now
by the hoofs and paws of jungle beasts. An air of desolation seemed to
hang above the scene like the miasmic vapors from some foul swamp.

The two Cro-Magnards knelt at the stream and quenched their thirst. For
nearly an hour the two young warriors sat side by side on the bank
without speaking, while gradually shadows from the encircling wall of
trees stretched farther and farther across the glade. And then with the
suddenness peculiar to tropical climes night filled the forest and the
voices of hunters and hunted rose and fell about the clearing.

Trakor stirred uneasily as the roar of Sadu, monarch of the jungle
night, rolled across the forest aisles from nearby. His ears, far
sharper now from constant use, caught a faint stirring among the river
reeds a dozen yards from where Tharn and he were seated; and an instant
later those rustling stalks parted and Tarlok, the leopard, slunk into
the open.

The young man from Gerdak's caves sat very still, hardly daring to
breathe, as the lithe, powerfully muscled feline stood clearly revealed
in the light of stars. For a long moment the cat stood as motionless as
some beautifully carved statue, then gracefully bent its neck to dip the
soft furr