Came Tharn
Sadu, the lion, rounding a bend in the trail, came to an abrupt halt as his eyes fell on the carcass of Bana lying across the path a few yards ahead.
An idle breeze ruffled his heavy mane as he stood there, one great paw half-lifted as though caught in mid-stride. Then, very slowly, impelled solely by curiosity, he moved toward the dead animal.
Suddenly something stirred beyond the bulk of the deer. Sadu froze to immobility again as the dusty blood-stained figure of a half-naked man got to an upright position and faced him.
For a full minute the man and the lion stared woodenly into each other's eyes, across a space of hardly more than a dozen paces.
Sadu's principal emotion was puzzled uncertainty. There was nothing of menace in the attitude of this two-legged creature; neither did it show any indication of being alarmed. Experience had taught the lion to expect one or the other of those reactions upon such meetings as this, and the absence of either was responsible for his own indecision.
As for Tharn, he was experiencing difficulty in seeing clearly. The figure of the giant cat seemed to shimmer in the sunlight; to expand awesomely, then contract almost to nothing. A whirlpool of roaring pain sucked at his mind, drawing the strength from every muscle of his body.
Tharn realized the moment was fast approaching when either he or Sadu must make some move. If the lion's decision was to attack, the empty-handed cave-man would prove easy prey.
Almost at Tharn's feet lay his heavy war-spear. To stoop to retrieve it might precipitate an immediate charge. But that might come anyway, he reasoned, catching him without means of defence.
What followed required only seconds. Tharn crouched, caught up the flint-tipped weapon, and straightened—all in one supple motion. Sadu slid back on his haunches, reared up with fore-legs extended, gave one mighty roar—then turned and in wild flight vanished into the jungle!