Bohar frothed with rage as he closed his fingers more tightly upon the girl’s soft neck. “Die, then, you—”
The words died upon his lips and he wheeled about as there fell upon his ears a man’s loud voice raised in anger.
As he stood there hesitating and looking in the direction of the sound, the underbrush at the upper end of the glade parted and a warrior, leaping into the clearing, ran swiftly toward him.
Bohar blanched as though he had seen a ghost, and then, hurling the girl roughly to the ground, he faced the lone warrior.
Bohar would have fled had he not realized the futility of flight, for what chance had he in a race with this lithe man, who leaped toward him with the grace and speed of a deer.
“Go away,” shouted Bohar. “Go away and leave us alone. This is my mate.”
“You lie,” growled Tanar of Pellucidar as he leaped upon the Korsar.
Down went the two men, the Sarian on top, and as they fell each sought a hold upon the other’s throat, and, failing to secure it, they struck blindly at one another’s face.
Tanar was mad with rage. He fought like a wild beast, forgetting all that David Innes had taught him. His one thought was to kill; it mattered not how just so long as he killed, and Bohar, on the defensive fighting for his life, battled like a cornered rat. To his advantage were his great weight and his longer reach, but in strength and agility as well as courage Tanar was his superior.
Stellara slowly opened her eyes as she recovered from the swoon into which she had passed beneath the choking fingers of Bohar the Bloody. At first she did not recognize Tanar, seeing only two warriors battling to the death on the sward of the glade and guessing that she would be the prey of him who was victorious. But presently, in the course of the duel, the face of the Sarian was turned toward her.