Nor was he following the
trail of the old men. That, they had crossed and left long
since, though it had been fresh and plain before Tarzan's eyes.
Tarzan was perplexed. The fierce jungle would make easy
prey of this unprotected stranger in a very short time if he
were not guided quickly to the beach.
Yes, there was Numa, the lion, even now, stalking the
white man a dozen paces to the right.
Clayton heard the great body paralleling his course, and
now there rose upon the evening air the beast's thunderous
roar. The man stopped with upraised spear and faced the
brush from which issued the awful sound. The shadows were
deepening, darkness was settling in.
God! To die here alone, beneath the fangs of wild beasts;
to be torn and rended; to feel the hot breath of the brute on
his face as the great paw crushed down up his breast!
For a moment all was still. Clayton stood rigid, with raised
spear. Presently a faint rustling of the bush apprised him of
the stealthy creeping of the thing behind. It was gathering for
the spring. At last he saw it, not twenty feet away--the long,
lithe, muscular body and tawny head of a huge black-maned lion.
The beast was upon its belly, moving forward very slowly.
As its eyes met Clayton's it stopped, and deliberately,
cautiously gathered its hind quarters behind it.
In agony the man watched, fearful to launch his spear,
powerless to fly.
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