He heard a noise in the tree above him. Some new danger,
he thought, but he dared not take his eyes from the yellow
green orbs before him. There was a sharp twang as of a broken
banjo-string, and at the same instant an arrow appeared
in the yellow hide of the crouching lion.
With a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang; but, somehow,
Clayton stumbled to one side, and as he turned again to
face the infuriated king of beasts, he was appalled at the sight
which confronted him. Almost simultaneously with the lion's
turning to renew the attack a half-naked giant dropped from
the tree above squarely on the brute's back.
With lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron
muscle encircled the huge neck, and the great beast was
raised from behind, roaring and pawing the air--raised as
easily as Clayton would have lifted a pet dog.
The scene he witnessed there in the twilight depths of the
African jungle was burned forever into the Englishman's brain.
The man before him was the embodiment of physical perfection
and giant strength; yet it was not upon these he depended
in his battle with the great cat, for mighty as were his
muscles, they were as nothing by comparison with Numa's.
To his agility, to his brain and to his long keen knife he
owed his supremacy.
His right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand
plunged the knife time and again into the unprotected side
behind the left shoulder.
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