his cudgel; so rapid the delivery of his blows, so catlike his
recovery that in the first few moments of the battle he seemed
invulnerable to their attack; but it could not last--he was outnumbered
twenty to one and his undoing came from a thrown club. It struck him
upon the back of the head. For a moment he stood swaying and then like
a great pine beneath the woodsman's ax he crashed to earth.

Others of the Kor-ul-lul had rushed to engage the balance of Om-at's
party. They could be heard fighting at a short distance and it was
evident that the Kor-ul-ja were falling slowly back and as they fell
Om-at called to the missing one: "Tarzan the Terrible! Tarzan the
Terrible!"

"Jad-guru, indeed," repeated one of the Kor-ul-lul rising from where
Tarzan had dropped him. "Tarzan-jad-guru! He was worse than that."

5

In the Kor-ul-gryf

As Tarzan fell among his enemies a man halted many miles away upon the
outer verge of the morass that encircles Pal-ul-don. Naked he was
except for a loin cloth and three belts of cartridges, two of which
passed over his shoulders, crossing upon his chest and back, while the
third encircled his waist. Slung to his back by its leathern
sling-strap was an Enfield, and he carried too a long knife, a bow and
a quiver of arrows. He had come far, through wild and savage lands,
menaced by fierce beasts and fiercer men, yet intact to the last
cartridge was the ammunition that had filled his belts the day that he
set out.

The bow and the arrows and the long knife had brought him thus far
safely, yet often in the face of great risks that could have been
minimized by a single shot from the well-kept rifle at his back. What
purpose might he have for conserving this precious ammunition? in
risking his life to bring the last bright shining missile to his
unknown goal? For what, for whom were these death-dealing bits of metal
preserved? In all the world only he knew.

When Pan-at-lee stepped over the edge of the cliff above Kor-ul-lul she
expected to be dashed to instant death upon the rocks below; but she
had chosen this in preference to the rending fangs of ja. Instead,
chance had ordained that she make the frightful plunge at a point where
the tumbling river swung close beneath the overhanging cliff to eddy
for a slow moment in a deep pool before plunging madly downward again
in a cataract of boiling foam, and water thundering against rocks.

Into this icy pool the girl shot, and down and d