staring eyes wandered to the golden goblets from which the hideous
votaries would soon quench their inhuman thirst in his own, warm
life-blood.

He wished that he might be granted the brief respite of unconsciousness
before the final plunge of the keen blade--and then there was a
frightful roar that sounded almost in his ears. The High Priestess
lowered her dagger. Her eyes went wide in horror. The priestesses,
her votaresses, screamed and fled madly toward the exits. The
priests roared out their rage and terror according to the temper
of their courage. Werper strained his neck about to catch a sight
of the cause of their panic, and when, at last he saw it, he too
went cold in dread, for what his eyes beheld was the figure of a
huge lion standing in the center of the temple, and already a single
victim lay mangled beneath his cruel paws.

Again the lord of the wilderness roared, turning his baleful gaze
upon the altar. La staggered forward, reeled, and fell across
Werper in a swoon.





6

The Arab Raid