"What lions?" demanded Tarzan.
"The men of Cathne breed lions, and there are many at large in the valley," explained Valthor. "That great plain that you see below us, stretching the full length of the valley on this side of the river, is called the Field of the Lions. We shall be safer if we cross it after dark."
"Whatever you wish," agreed Tarzan with a shrug; "it is all the same to me if we start now or wait until dark."
"It is not very comfortable here," remarked the Athnean. "The rain is cold."
"I have been uncomfortable before," replied Tarzan; "rains do not last forever."
"If we were in Athne we should be very comfortable," sighed Valthor. "In my father's house there are fireplaces; even now the flames are roaring about great logs, and all is warmth and comfort."
"Above the clouds the sun is shining," replied Tarzan, "but we are not above the clouds; we are here where the sun is not shining and there is no fire, and we are cold." A faint smile touched his lips. "It does not warm me to speak of fires or the sun."
"Nevertheless, I wish I were in Athne," insisted Valthor. "It is a splendid city, and Thenar is a lovely valley. In Thenar we raise goats and sheep and elephants. In Thenar there are no lions except those that stray in from Onthar; those we kill. Our farmers raise vegetables and fruits and hay; our artizans manufacture leather goods; they make cloth from the hair of goats and the wool of sheep; our carvers work in ivory and wood.
"We trade a little with the outside world, paying for what we buy with ivory and gold. Were it not for the Cathneans we should lead a happy, peaceful life without a care."
"What do you buy from the outside world, and of whom do you buy it?" asked Tarzan.