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 down beneath the watery surface until, half choked, yet fighting bravely, she battled her way once more to air.Swimming strongly she made the opposite shore and there dragged herself out upon the bank to lie panting and spent until the approaching dawn warned her to seek concealment, for she was in the country of her people's enemies.
Rising, she moved into the concealment of the rank vegetation that grows so riotously in the well-watered kors(1) of Pal-ul-don.
(1) I have used the Pal-ul- don word for gorge with the English plural, which is not the correct native plural form.The latter, it seems to me, is awkward for us and so I have generally ignored it throughout my manuscript, permitting, for example, Kor-ul-ja to answer for both singular and plural.However, for the benefit of those who may be interested in such things I may say that the plurals are formed simply for all words in the Pal-ul-don language by doubling the initial letter of the word, as k'kor, gorges, pronounced as though written kakor, the a having the sound of a in sofa.Lions, then, would be j'ja, or men d' don.
Hidden amidst the plant life from the sight of any who might chance to pass along the well-beaten trail that skirted the river Pan-at-lee sought rest and food, the latter growing in abundance all about her in the form of fruits and berries and succulent tubers which she scooped from the earth with the knife of the dead Es-sat.
Ah! if she had but known that he was dead! What trials and risks and terrors she might have been saved; but she thought that he still lived and so she dared not return to Kor-ul-ja.At least not yet while his rage was at white heat.Later, perhaps, her father and brothers returned to their cave, she might risk it; but not now--not now.Nor could she for long remain here in the neighborhood of the hostile Kor-ul-lul and somewhere she must find safety from beasts before the night set in.
As she sat upon the bole of a fallen tree seeking some solution of the problem of existence that confronted her, there broke upon her ears from up the gorge the voices of shouting men--a sound that she recognized all too well.It was the war cry of the Kor-ul-lul.Closer and closer it approached her hiding place.
Then, through the veil of foliage she caught glimpses of three figures fleeing along the trail, and behind them the shouting of the pursuers rose louder and louder as they neared her.Again she caught sight of the fugitives crossing the river below the cataract and again they were lost to sight.And now the pursuers came into view--shouting Kor-ul-lul warriors, fierce and implacable.Forty, perhaps fifty of them.She waited breathless;
but they did not swerve from the trail and passed her, unguessing that an enemy she lay hid within a few yards of them.
Once again she caught sight of the pursued--three Waz-don warriors clambering the cliff face at a point where portions of the summit had fallen away presenting a steep slope that might be ascended by such as these.Suddenly her attention was riveted upon the three.Could it be? O Jad-ben-Otho! had she but known a moment before.When they passed she might have joined them, for they were her father and two brothers.Now it was too late.With bated breath and tense muscles she watched the race.Would they reach the summit? Would the Kor-ul-lul overhaul them? They climbed well, but, oh, so slowly.Now one lost his footing in the loose shale and slipped back! The Kor-ul-lul were ascending--one hurled his club at the nearest fugitive.The Great God was pleased with the brother of Pan-at-lee, for he caused the club to fall short of its target, and to fall, rolling and bounding, back upon its owner carrying him from his feet and precipitating him to the bottom of the gorge.