CHAPTER I



THE GOLDEN LION


Sabor, the lioness, suckled her young--a single fuzzy ball, spotted like Sheeta, the leopard.  She lay in the warm sunshine before the rocky cavern that was her lair,
stretched out upon her side with half closed eyes, yet Sabor was alert. There had been three of these little, fuzzy balls
at first--two daughters and a son--and Sabor and Numa, their sire, had been proud of them; proud and happy.  But
kills had not been plentiful, and Sabor, undernourished, had been unable to produce sufficient milk to nourish properly
three lusty cubs, and then a cold rain had come, and the little ones had sickened. Only the strongest survived--the two daughters had died.  Sabor had mourned, pacing to and fro beside the pitiful bits of bedraggled fur, whining moaning.  Now and again she would nose them with her muzzle as though she would awaken them from the long sleep that knows no waking.

At last, however, she abandoned her efforts, and now her whole savage heart was filled with concern for the little male cub that remained to her. That was why Sabor was more alert than usual.

Numa, the lion, was away. Two nights before he had made a kill and dragged it to their lair and last night he had fared forth again, but he had not returned.  Sabor was
thinking, as she half dozed, of Wappi, the plump antelope, that her splendid mate might this very minute be dragging
through the tangled jungle to her. Or perhaps it would be Pacco, the zebra, whose flesh was the best beloved of her
kind--juicy, succulent Pacco. Sabor's mouth watered.

Ah, what was that? The shadow of a sound had come to those keen ears. She raised her head, cocking it first upon one
side and then the other, as with up-pricked ears she sought to catch the faintest repetition of that which had disturbed
her.

Her nose sniffed the air. There was but the suggestion of a breeze, but what there was moved toward her from the direction of the sound she had heard, and which she still
heard in a slightly increasing volume that told her that whatever was making it was approaching her. As it drew closer the beast's nervousness increased and she rolled over on her belly, shutting off the milk supply from the cub, which vented its disapproval in miniature growls until a
low, querulous whine from the lioness silenced him, then he stood at her side, looking first at her and then in the direction toward which she looked, cocking his little head first on one side and then on the other.

Evidently there was a disturbing quality in the sound that Sabor heard-[-]something that inspired a certain restlessness, if not actual apprehension--though she could not be sure as yet that it boded ill.  It might be her great lord returning, but it did not sound like the movement of a lion, certainly not like a lion dragging a heavy kill. She glanced at her cub, breathing as she did so a plaintive whine. There was always the fear that some danger menaced him--this last of her little family--but she, Sabor the lioness, was there to defend him.
Presently the breeze brought to her nostrils the scent-spoor of the thing that moved toward her through the jungle.
Instantly the troubled mother-face was metamorphosed into a bare-fanged, glittering-eyed mask of savage rage, for the scent that had come up to her through the jungle was the hated man-scent.  She rose to her feet, her head flattened, her sinuous tail twitching nervously. Through that strange medium by which animals communicate with one another she
cautioned her cub to lie down and remain where he was until she returned, then she moved rapidly and[dele.] silently to meet
the intruder.

The cub had heard what its mother heard and now he caught the smell of man--an unfamiliar smell that had never impinged upon his nostrils before, yet a smell that he knew at once for that of an enemy--a smell that brought a reaction as typical as that which marked the attitude of the grown lioness, bringing the hairs along his little spine erect and baring his tiny fangs. As the adult moved quickly and stealthily into the underbrush the small cub, ignoring
her injunction, followed after her, his hind quarters wobbling from side to side, after the manner of the very young of his kind, the ridiculous gait comporting ill with
the dignified bearing of his fore quarters; but the lioness, intent upon that which lay before her, did not know that he followed her.

There was dense jungle before the two for a hundred yards, but through it the lions had worn a tunnel-like path to their lair; and then there was a small clearing through which ran a well-worn jungle trail, out of the jungle at one end of the clearing and into the jungle again at the other.
As Sabor reached the clearing she saw the object of her fear and hatred well within it. What if the man-thing were not hunting her or hers?  What if he even dreamed not of their presence? These facts were as nothing to Sabor, the lioness, today.[dele.] Ordinarily she would have let him pass unmolested, so long as he did not come close enough to threaten the safety of her cub; or, cubless, she would have slunk away at the first intimation of his approach. But today the lioness was nervous and fearful--fearful because of the single cub
that remained to her--her maternal instincts centered threefold, perhaps, upon this lone and triply loved survivor--and so she did not wait for the man to threaten the safety of her little one; but instead she moved to meet him and to stop him. From the soft mother she had become a terrifying creature of destruction, her brain obsessed by a single thought--to kill.

She did not hesitate an instant at the edge of the clearing, nor did she give the slightest warning. The first intimation
that the black warrior had that there was a lion within twenty miles of him, was the terrifying apparition of this devil-faced cat charging across the clearing toward him with
the speed of an arrow. The black was not searching for
lions.  Had he known that there was one near he would have
given it a wide berth. He would have fled now had there been
anywhere to flee. The nearest tree was farther from him than
was the lioness.  She could overhaul him before he would
have covered a quarter of the distance. There was no hope
and there was only one thing to do. The beast was almost
upon him and behind her he saw a tiny cub. The man bore a
heavy spear.  He carried it far back with his right hand and
hurled it at the very instant that Sabor rose to seize him.
The spear passed through the savage heart and almost
simultaneously the giant jaws closed upon the face and skull
of the warrior.  The momentum of the lioness carried the two
heavily to the ground, dead except for a few spasmodic
twitchings of their muscles.

The orphaned cub stopped twenty feet away and surveyed the
first great catastrophe of his life with questioning eyes.
He wanted to approach  his dam but a natural fear of the
man-scent held him away. Presently he commenced to whine in
a tone that always brought his mother to him hurriedly; but
this time she did not come--she did not even rise and look
toward him. He was puzzled--he could not understand it.
He continued to cry, feeling all the while more sad and more
lonely.  Gradually he crept closer to his mother. He saw
that the strange creature she had killed did not move and
after a while he felt less terror of it, so that at last he
found the courage to come quite close to his mother and
sniff at her. He still whined to her, but she did not
answer.  It dawned on him at last that there was something
wrong--that his great, beautiful mother was not as she had
been--a change had come over her; yet still he clung to
her, crying much until at last he fell asleep, cuddled close
to her dead body.

It was thus that Tarzan found him--Tarzan and Jane, his
wife, and their son, Korak the Killer, returning from the
mysterious land of Pal-ul-don from which the two men had
rescued Jane Clayton.  At the sound of their approach the
cub opened his eyes and rising, flattened his ears and
snarled at them, backing close against his dead mother. At
sight of him the ape-man smiled.

"Plucky little devil," he commented, taking in the story of
the tragedy at a single glance. He approached the spitting
cub, expecting it to turn and run away; but it did nothing
of the sort. Instead it snarled more ferociously and struck
at his extended hand as he stooped and reached for it.

"What a brave little fellow," cried Jane. "Poor little
orphan!"

"He's going to make a great lion, or he would have if his
dam had lived," said Korak. "Look at that back--as
straight and strong as a spear. Too bad the rascal has got
to die."

"He doesn't have to die," returned Tarzan.

"There's not much chance for him--he'll need milk for a
couple of months more, and who's going to get it for him?"

"I am," replied Tarzan.

"You're going to adopt him?"

Tarzan nodded.

Korak and Jane laughed.  "That'll be fine," commented the
former.

"Lord Greystoke, foster mother to the son of Numa," laughed
Jane.

Tarzan smiled with them, but he did not cease his attentions
toward the cub. Reaching out suddenly he caught the little
lion by the scruff of its neck and then stroking it gently
he talked to it in a low, crooning tone. I do not know what
he said; but perhaps the cub did, for presently it ceased
its struggles and no longer sought to scratch or bite the
caressing hand. After that he picked it up and held it
against his breast.  It did not seem afraid now, nor did it
even bare its fangs against this close proximity to the
erstwhile hated man-scent.

"How do you do it?" [dele’]exclaimed Jane Clayton.

Tarzan shrugged his broad shoulders. "Your kind are not
afraid of you--these are really my kind, try to civilize
me as you will, and perhaps that is why they are not afraid
of me when I give them the signs of friendship.  Even this
little rascal seems to know it, doesn't he?"

"I can never understand it," commented Korak. "I think I am
rather familiar with African animals, yet I haven't the
power over them or the understanding that you have. Why is
it?"

"There is but one Tarzan," said Lady Greystoke, smiling at
her son teasingly, and yet her tone was not without a note
of pride.

"Remember that I was born among beasts and raised by
beasts," Tarzan reminded him. "Perhaps after all my father
was an ape--you know Kala always insisted that he was."

"John!  How can you?" exclaimed Jane. "You know perfectly
well who your father and mother were."

Tarzan looked solemnly at his son and closed one eye. "Your
mother never can learn to appreciate the fine qualities of
the anthropoids.  One might almost think that she objected
to the suggestion that she had mated with one of them."

"John Clayton, I shall never speak to you again if you don't
stop saying such hideous things. I am ashamed of you.  It is
bad enough that you are an unregenerate wild-man, without
trying to suggest that you may be an ape into the bargain."

The long journey from Pal-ul-don was almost completed--
inside the week they should be again at the site of their
former home. Whether anything now remained of the ruins the
Germans had left was problematical. The barns and outhouses
had all been burned and the interior of the bungalow
partially wrecked. Those of the Waziri, the faithful native
retainers of the Greystokes, who had not been killed by
Hauptman Fritz Schneider's soldiers, had rallied to the beat
of the war-drum and gone to place themselves at the disposal
of the English in whatever capacity they might be found
useful to the great cause of humanity. This much Tarzan had
known before he set out in search of Lady Jane; but how many
of his war-like Waziri had survived the war and what further
had befallen his vast estates he did not know.  Wandering
tribes of natives, or raiding bands of Arab slavers might
have completed the demolition inaugurated by the Hun, and it
was likely, too, that the jungle had swept up and reclaimed
its own, covering his dearings and burying amidst its riot
of lush verdure every sign of man's brief trespass upon its
world-old preserves.

Following the adoption of the tiny Numa, Tarzan was
compelled to an immediate consideration of the needs of his
protege in planning his marches and his halts, for the cub
must have sustenance and that sustenance could be naught but
milk.

Lion's milk was out of the question, but fortunately they
were now in a comparatively well peopled country where
villages were not infrequent and where the great Lord of the
Jungle was known, feared, and respected, and so it was that
upon the afternoon of the day he had found the young lion
Tarzan approached a village for the purpose of obtaining
milk for the cub.

At first the natives appeared sullen and indifferent,
looking with contempt upon whites who traveled without a
large safari--with contempt and without fear. With no
safari these strangers could carry no presents for them, nor
anything wherewith to repay for the food they would
doubtless desire, and with no askari they could not demand
food, or rather they could not enforce an order, nor could
they protect themselves should it seem worth while to molest
them. Sullen and indifferent the natives seemed, yet they
were scarce unconcerned, their curiosity being aroused by
the unusual apparel and ornamentation of these whites. They
saw them almost as naked as themselves and armed similarly
except that one, the younger man, carried a rifle. All three
wore the trappings of Pal-ul-don, primitive and barbaric,
and entirely strange to the eyes of the simple blacks.

"Where is your chief?" asked Tarzan as he strode into the
village amongst the women, the children, and the yapping
dogs.

A few dozing warriors rose from the shadows of the huts
where they had been lying and approached the newcomers.

"The chief sleeps," replied one.  "Who are you to awaken
him? What do you want?"

"I wish to speak to your chief. Go and fetch him!"

The warrior looked at him in wide-eyed amaze, and then broke
into a loud laugh.

"The chief must be brought to him," he cried, addressing his
fellows, and then, laughing loudly, he slapped his thigh and
nudged those nearest him with his elbows.

"Tell him," continued the ape-man, "that Tarzan would speak
with him."

Instantly the attitude of his auditors underwent a
remarkable transformation--they fell back from him and
they ceased laughing--their eyes very wide and round. He
who had laughed loudest became suddenly solemn.  "Bring
mats," he cried, "for Tarzan and his people to sit upon,
while I fetch Umanga the chief," and off he ran as fast as
he could as though glad of the excuse to escape the presence
of the mighty one he feared he had offended.

It made no difference now that they had no safari, no
askari, nor any presents. The villagers were vying with one
another to do them honor. Even before the chief came many
had already brought presents of food and ornaments.
Presently Umanga appeared.  He was an old man who had been a chief even before Tarzan of the Apes was born. His manner
was patriarchal and dignified and he greeted his guest as
one great man might greet another, yet he was undeniably
pleased that the Lord of the Jungle had honored his village
with a visit.

When Tarzan explained his wishes and exhibited the lion cub Umanga assured him that there would be milk a-plenty so long
as Tarzan honored them with his presence--warm milk, fresh
from the chief's own goats.  As they palavered the ape-man's
keen eyes took in every detail of the village and its
people, and presently they alighted upon a large bitch among
the numerous curs that overran the huts and the street.  Her
udder was swollen with milk and the sight of it suggested a
plan to Tarzan.  He jerked a thumb in the direction of the
animal.  "I would buy her," he said to Umanga.

"She is yours, Bwana, without payment," replied the chief.
"She whelped two days since and last night her pups were all
stolen from her nest, doubtless by a great snake; but if you
will accept them I will give you instead as many younger and
fatter dogs as you wish, for I am sure that this one would
prove poor eating."

"I do not wish to eat her," replied Tarzan. "I will take her
along with me to furnish milk for the cub. Have her brought
to me."

Some boys then caught the animal and tying a thong about its
neck dragged it to the ape-man. Like the lion, the dog was
at first afraid, for the scent of the Tarmangani was not as
the scent of the blacks, and it snarled and snapped at its
new master; but at length he won the animal's confidence so
that it lay quietly beside him while he stroked its head. To
get the lion close to it was, however, another matter, for
here both were terrified by the enemy scent of the other--
the lion snarling and spitting arid the dog bare-fanged and
growling.  It required patience--infinite patience--but
at last the thing was an accomplished fact and the cur bitch
suckled the son of Numa. Hunger had succeeded in overcoming
the natural suspicion of the lion, while the firm yet kindly
attitude of the ape-man had won the confidence of the
canine, which had been accustomed through life to more of
cuffs and kicks than kindness.

That night Tarzan had the dog tied ill[??] the hut he occupied,
and twice before morning he made her lie while the cub fed.
The next day they took leave of Umanga and his people and
with the dog still upon a leash trotting beside them they
set off once more toward home, the young lion cuddled in the
hollow of one of Tarzan's arms or carried in a sack slung
across his shoulder.

They named the lion Jad-bal-ja, which in the language of the
pithecanthropi of Pal-ul-don, means the Golden Lion, because
of his color. Every day he became more accustomed to them
and to his foster mother, who finally came to accept him as
flesh of her flesh. The bitch they called Za, meaning girl.
The second day they removed her leash and she followed them
willingly through the jungle, nor ever after did she seek to
leave them, nor was happy unless she was near one of the
three.

As the moment approached when the trail should break from
the jungle onto the edge of the rolling plain where their
home had been, the three were filled with suppressed
excitement, though none uttered a syllable of the hope and
fear that was in the heart of each. What would they find?
What could they find other than the same tangled mass of
vegetation that the ape-man had cleared away to build his
home when first he had come there with his bride?

At last they stepped from the concealing verdure of the
forest to look out across the plain where, in the distance,
the outlines of the bungalow had once been clearly
discernible nestled amidst the trees and shrubs that had
been retained or imported to beautify the grounds.

"Look!" cried Lady Jane.  "It is there--it is still
there!"

"But what are those other things to the left, beyond it?"
asked Korak.

"They are the huts of natives," replied Tarzan.

"The fields are being cultivated!" exclaimed the woman.

"And some of the outbuildings have been rebuilt," said
Tarzan.  "It can mean but one thing--the Waziri have come
back from the war--my faithful Waziri.  They have restored
what the Hun destroyed and are watching over our home until
we return."