tion>Edgar Rice Burroughs
Tarzan and the Golden Lion
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4057664146922
Table of Contents
CHAPTER II THE TRAINING OF JAD-BAL-JA
CHAPTER III A MEETING OF MYSTERY
CHAPTER IV WHAT THE FOOTPRINTS TOLD
CHAPTER VI DEATH STEALS BEHIND
CHAPTER VII “YOU MUST SACRIFICE HIM”
CHAPTER VIII MYSTERY OF THE PAST
CHAPTER XI STRANGE INCENSE BURNS
CHAPTER XIII A STRANGE, FLAT TOWER
CHAPTER XIV THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS
CHAPTER XVII THE TORTURE OF FIRE
CHAPTER XVIII THE SPOOR OF REVENGE
CHAPTER XIX A BARBED SHAFT KILLS
CHAPTER XXI AN ESCAPE AND A CAPTURE
ILLUSTRATIONS
| Standing above him was Jad-bal-ja, the Golden Lion |
| He caught the little lion by the scruff of its neck |
| Before him was the body of a giant anthropoid |
| “Upon the third day Tarzan shall die beneath my knife” |
| Tarzan saw a white man, bald and old and shriveled with a long white beard |
| The Golden Lion with two mighty bounds was upon the High Priest |
| Hunting together, the man and the great lion trod the paths toward home |
| With a cry of terror the Spaniard dived into the river |
Tarzan and the Golden Lion
CHAPTER I
THE GOLDEN LION
SABOR, the lioness, suckled her young—a single fuzzy ball, spotted like Sheeta, the leopard. She lay in the warm sunshine before the rocky cavern that was her lair, stretched out upon her side with half closed eyes, yet Sabor was alert. There had been three of these little, fuzzy balls at first—two daughters and a son—and Sabor and Numa, their sire, had been proud of them; proud and happy. But kills had not been plentiful, and Sabor, undernourished, had been unable to produce sufficient milk to nourish properly three lusty cubs, and then a cold rain had come, and the little ones had sickened. Only the strongest survived—the two daughters had died. Sabor had mourned, pacing to and fro beside the pitiful bits of bedraggled fur, whining and moaning. Now and again she would nose them with her muzzle as though she would awaken them from the long sleep that knows no waking. At last, however, she abandoned her efforts, and now her whole savage heart was filled with concern for the little male cub that remained to her. That was why Sabor was more alert than usual.
Numa, the lion, was away. Two nights before he had made a kill and dragged it to their lair and last night he had fared forth again, but he had not returned. Sabor was thinking, as she half dozed, of Wappi, the plump antelope, that her splendid mate might this very minute be dragging through the tangled jungle to her. Or perhaps it would be Pacco, the zebra, whose flesh was the best beloved of her kind—juicy, succulent Pacco. Sabor’s mouth watered.
Ah, what was that? The shadow of a sound had come to those keen ears. She raised her head, cocking it first upon one side and then the other, as with up-pricked ears she sought to catch the faintest repetition of that which had disturbed her. Her nose sniffed the air. There was but the suggestion of a breeze, but what there was moved toward her from the direction of the sound she had heard, and which she still heard in a slightly increasing volume that told her that whatever was making it was approaching her. As it drew closer the beast’s nervousness increased and she rolled over on her belly, shutting off the milk supply from the cub, which vented its disapproval in miniature growls until a low, querulous whine from the lioness silenced him, then he stood at her side, looking first at her and then in the direction toward which she looked, cocking his little head first on one side and then on the other.
Evidently there was a disturbing quality in the sound that Sabor heard—something that inspired a certain restlessness, if not actual apprehension—though she could not be sure as yet that it boded ill. It might be her great lord returning, but it did not sound like the movement of a lion, certainly not like a lion dragging a heavy kill. She glanced at her cub, breathing as she did so a plaintive whine. There was always the fear that some danger menaced him—this last of her
