Pan-at-lee was brave, but as always with the primitive, the darkness
held infinite terrors for her. Not alone the terrors of the known
but more frightful ones as well--those of the unknown. She had
passed through much this night and her nerves were keyed to the
highest pitch--raw, taut nerves, they were, ready to react in an
exaggerated form to the slightest shock.

But this was no slight shock. To hope for a father and a brother and
to see death instead glaring out of the darkness! Yes, Pan-at-lee
was brave, but she was not of iron. With a shriek that reverberated
among the hills she turned and fled along the rim of Kor-ul-lul and
behind her, swiftly, came the devil-eyed lion of the mountains of
Pal-ul-don.

Pan-at-lee was lost. Death was inevitable. Of this there could be
no doubt, but to die beneath the rending fangs of the carnivore,
congenital terror of her kind--it was unthinkable. But there was
an alternative. The lion was almost upon her--another instant and
he would seize her. Pan-at-lee turned sharply to her left. Just
a few steps she took in the new direction before she disappeared
over the rim of Kor-ul-lul. The baffled lion, planting all four
feet, barely stopped upon the verge of the abyss. Glaring down into
the black shadows beneath he mounted an angry roar.

Through the darkness at the bottom of Kor-ul-ja, Om-at led the way
toward the caves of his people. Behind him came Tarzan and Ta-den.
Presently they halted beneath a great tree that grew close to the
cliff.

"First," whispered Om-at, "I will go to the cave of Pan-at-lee.