e yellow hide of the crouching lion.

With a roar of pain and anger the beast sprang; but, somehow, Clayton
stumbled to one side, and as he turned again to face the infuriated
king of beasts, he was appalled at the sight which confronted him.
Almost simultaneously with the lion's turning to renew the attack a
half-naked giant dropped from the tree above squarely on the brute's
back.

With lightning speed an arm that was banded layers of iron muscle
encircled the huge neck, and the great beast was raised from behind,
roaring and pawing the air--raised as easily as Clayton would have
lifted a pet dog.

The scene he witnessed there in the twilight depths of the African
jungle was burned forever into the Englishman's brain.

The man before him was the embodiment of physical perfection and giant
strength; yet it was not upon these he depended in his battle with the
great cat, for mighty as were his muscles, they were as nothing by
comparison with Numa's. To his agility, to his brain and to his long
keen knife he owed his supremacy.

His right arm encircled the lion's neck, while the left hand plunged
the knife time and again into the unprotected side behind the left
shoulder. The infuriated beast, pulled up and backwards until he stood
upon his hind legs, struggled impotently in this unnatural position.

Had the battle been of a few seconds' longer duration the outcome might
have been different, but it was all accomplished so quickly that the
lion had scarce time to recover from the confusion of its surprise ere
it sank lifeless to the ground.

Then the strange figure which had vanquished it stood erect upon the
carcass, and throwing back the wild and handsome head, gave out the
fearsome cry which a few moments earlier had so startled Clayton.

Before him he saw the figure of a young man, naked except for a loin
cloth and a few barbaric ornaments about arms and legs; on the breast a
priceless diamond locket gleaming against a smooth brown skin.

The hunting knife had been returned to its homely sheath, and the man
was gathering up his bow and quiver from where he had tossed them when
he leaped to attack the lion.

Clayton spoke to the stranger in English, thanking him for his brave
rescue and complimenting him on the wondrous strength and dexterity he
had displayed, but the only answer was a steady stare and a faint shrug
of the mighty shoulders, which might betoken either disparagement of
the service rendered,