At sound of her mistress’ voice the slave maiden turned quickly, rising to her feet. “Tarzan-jad-guru!” she exclaimed in tones of mingled astonishment and relief.
“You know him?” cried her mistress turning toward the slave and affording Tarzan an opportunity to raise a cautioning finger to his lips lest Pan-at-lee further betray him, for it was Pan-at-lee indeed who stood before him, no less a source of surprise to him than had his presence been to her.
Thus questioned by her mistress and simultaneously admonished to silence by Tarzan, Pan-at-lee was momentarily silenced and then haltingly she groped for a way to extricate herself from her dilemma. “I thought—” she faltered, “but no, I am mistaken—I thought that he was one whom I had seen before near the Kor-ul-gryf.”
The Ho-don looked first at one and then at the other an expression of doubt and questioning in her eyes. “But you have not answered me,” she continued presently; “who are you?”
“You have not heard then,” asked Tarzan, “of the visitor who arrived at your king’s court yesterday?”
“You mean,” she exclaimed, “that you are the Dor-ul-Otho?” And now the erstwhile doubting eyes reflected naught but awe.
“I am he,” replied Tarzan; “and you?”
“I am O-lo-a, daughter of Ko-tan, the king,” she replied.
So this was O-lo-a, for love of whom Ta-den had chosen exile rather than priesthood. Tarzan had approached more closely the dainty barbarian princess. “Daughter of Ko-tan,” he said, “Jad-ben-Otho is pleased with you and as a mark of his favor he has preserved for you through many dangers him whom you love.”
“I do not understand,” replied the girl but the flush that mounted to her cheek belied her words. “Bu-lat is a guest in the palace of Ko-tan, my father. I do not know that he has faced any danger. It is to Bu-lat that I am betrothed.”
“But it is not Bu-lat whom you love,” said Tarzan.
Again the flush and the girl half turned her face away. “Have I then displeased the Great God?” she asked.
“No,” replied Tarzan; “as I told you he is well satisfied and for your sake he has saved Ta-den for you.”
“Jad-ben-Otho knows all,” whispered the girl, “and his son shares his great knowledge.”
“No,” Tarzan hastened to correct her lest a reputation for omniscience might prove embarrassing. “I know only what Jad-ben-Otho wishes me to know.”
“But tell me,” she said, “I shall be reunited with Ta-den? Surely the son of god can read the future.”
The ape-man was glad that he had left himself an avenue of escape. “I know nothing of the future,” he replied, “other than what Jad-ben-Otho tells me. But I think you need have no fear for the future if you remain faithful to Ta-den and Ta-den’s friends.”
“You have seen him?” asked O-lo-a. “Tell me, where is he?”
“Yes,” replied Tarzan, “I have seen him. He was with Om-at, the gund of Kor-ul-ja.”
“A prisoner of the Waz-don?” interrupted the girl.
“Not a prisoner but an honored guest,” replied the ape-man.
“Wait,” he exclaimed, raising his face toward the heavens; “do not speak. I am receiving a message from Jad-ben-Otho, my father.”
The two women dropped to their knees, covering their faces with their hands, stricken with awe at the thought of the awful nearness of the Great God. Presently Tarzan touched O-lo-a on the shoulder.
“Rise,” he said. “Jad-ben-Otho has spoken. He has told me that this slave girl is from the tribe of Kor-ul-ja, where Ta-den is, and that she is betrothed to Om-at, their chief. Her name is Pan-at-lee.”
O-lo-a turned questioningly toward Pan-at-lee. The latter nodded, her simple mind unable to determine whether or not she and her mistress were the victims of a colossal hoax. “It is even as he says,” she whispered.
O-lo-a fell upon her knees and touched her forehead to Tarzan’s feet. “Great is the honor that Jad-ben-Otho has done his poor servant,” she cried. “Carry to him my poor thanks for the happiness that he has brought to O-lo-a.”
“It would please my father,” said Tarzan, “if you were to cause Pan-at-lee to be returned in safety to the village of her people.”
“What cares Jad-ben-Otho for such as she?” asked O-lo-a, a slight trace of hauteur in her tone.
“There is but one god,” replied Tarzan, “and he is the god of the Waz-don as well as of the Ho-don; of the birds and the beasts and the flowers and of everything that grows upon the earth or beneath the waters. If Pan-at-lee does right she is greater in the eyes of Jad-ben-Otho than would be the daughter of Ko-tan should she do wrong.”
It was evident that O-lo-a did not quite understand this interpretation of divine favor, so contrary was it to the teachings of the priesthood of her people. In one respect only did Tarzan’s teachings coincide with her belief—that there was but one god. For the rest she had always been taught that he was solely the god of the Ho-don in every sense, other than that other creatures were created by Jad-ben-Otho to serve some useful purpose for the benefit of the Ho-don race. And now to be told by the son of god that she stood no higher in divine esteem than the black handmaiden at her side was indeed a shock to her pride, her vanity, and her faith. But who could question the word of Dor-ul-Otho, especially when she had with her own eyes seen him in actual communion with god in heaven?
“The will of Jad-ben-Otho be done,” said O-lo-a meekly, “if it lies within my power. But it would be best, O Dor-ul-Otho, to communicate your father’s wish directly to the king.”
“Then keep her with you,” said Tarzan, “and see that no harm befalls her.”
O-lo-a looked ruefully at Pan-at-lee. “She was brought to me but yesterday,” she said, “and never have I had slave woman who pleased me better. I shall hate to part with her.”
“But there are others,” said Tarzan.
“Yes,” replied O-lo-a, “there are others, but there is
