"Oh, so you are going to kill me! Phobeg, I am surprised. I thought that you were my friend." Tarzan's tone was serious, though a brighter man than Phobeg might have discovered in it a note of banter; but Phobeg was not bright at all, and he thought that Tarzan was already commencing to throw himself upon his mercy.
"It will soon be over," Phobeg assured him. "I promise that I shall not let you suffer long."
"I suppose that you will twist my neck like this," said Tarzan, pretending to twist something with his two hands.
"M-m-m, perhaps," admitted Phobeg; "but I shall have to throw you about a bit first. We must amuse Nemone, you know."
"Surely, by all means!" asserted Tarzan. "But suppose you should not be able to throw me about? Suppose that I should throw you about? Would that amuse Nemone? Or perhaps it would amuse you!"
Phobeg laughed. "It amuses me very much just to think about it," he said, "and I hope that it amuses you to think about it, for that is as near as you will ever come to throwing Phobeg about; have I not told you that I am the strongest man in Cathne?"
"Oh, of course," admitted Tarzan. "I had forgotten that for the moment."
"You would do well to try to remember it," advised Phobeg, "or otherwise our combat will not be interesting at all."
"And Nemone would not be amused! That would be sad. We should make it as interesting and exciting as possible, and you must not conclude it too soon."
"You are right about that," agreed Phobeg. "The better it is the more generous will Nemone feel toward me when it is over; she may even give me a donation in addition to my liberty if we amuse her well.