As Tarzan sat within the concealing foliage of the shrubbery meditating upon the hideous priest-mask which he held in his hands he became aware that he was not alone in the garden. He sensed another presence and presently his trained ears detected the slow approach of naked feet across the sward. At first he suspected that it might be one stealthily searching the Forbidden Garden for him but a little later the figure came within the limited area of his vision which was circumscribed by stems and foliage and flowers. He saw then that it was the princess O-lo-a and that she was alone and walking with bowed head as though in meditation—sorrowful meditation for there were traces of tears upon her lids.
Shortly after his ears warned him that others had entered the garden—men they were and their footsteps proclaimed that they walked neither slowly nor meditatively. They came directly toward the princess and when Tarzan could see them he discovered that both were priests.
“O-lo-a, Princess of Pal-ul-don,” said one, addressing her, “the stranger who told us that he was the son of Jad-ben-Otho has but just fled from the wrath of Lu-don, the high priest, who exposed him and all his wicked blasphemy. The temple, and the palace, and the city are being searched and we have been sent to search the Forbidden Garden, since Ko-tan, the king, said that only this morning he found him here, though how he passed the guards he could not guess.”
“He is not here,” said O-lo-a. “I have been in the garden for some time and have seen nor heard no other than myself. However, search it if you will.”
“No,” said the priest who had before spoken, “it is not necessary since he could not have entered without your knowledge and the connivance of the guards, and even had he, the priest who preceded us must have seen him.”
“What priest?” asked O-lo-a.
“One passed the guards shortly before us,” explained the man.
“I did not see him,” said O-lo-a.
“Doubtless he left by another exit,” remarked the second priest.
“Yes, doubtless,” acquiesced O-lo-a, “but it is strange that I did not see him.” The two priests made their obeisance and turned to depart.
“Stupid as Buto, the rhinoceros,” soliloquized Tarzan, who considered Buto a very stupid creature indeed. “It should be easy to outwit such as these.”
The priests had scarce departed when there came the sound of feet running rapidly across the garden in the direction of the princess to an accompaniment of rapid breathing as of one almost spent, either from fatigue or excitement.
“Pan-at-lee,” exclaimed O-lo-a, “what has happened? You look as terrified as the doe for which you were named!”
“O Princess of Pal-ul-don,” cried Pan-at-lee, “they would have killed him in the temple. They would have killed the wondrous stranger who claimed to be the Dor-ul-Otho.”
“But he escaped,” said O-lo-a. “You were there. Tell me about it.”
“The head priest would have had him seized and slain, but when they rushed upon him he hurled one in the face of Lu-don with the same ease that you might cast your breastplates at me, and then he leaped upon the altar and from there to the top of the temple wall and disappeared below. They are searching for him, but, O Princess, I pray that they do not find him.”
“And why do you pray that?” asked O-lo-a. “Has not one who has so blasphemed earned death?”
“Ah, but you do not know him,” replied Pan-at-lee.
“And you do, then?” retorted O-lo-a quickly. “This morning you betrayed yourself and then attempted to deceive me. The slaves of O-lo-a do not such things with impunity. He is then the same Tarzan-jad-guru of whom you told me? Speak woman and speak only the truth.”
Pan-at-lee drew herself up very erect, her little chin held high, for was not she too among her own people already as good as a princess? “Pan-at-lee, the Kor-ul-ja does not lie,” she said, “to protect herself.”
“Then tell me what you know of this Tarzan-jad-guru,” insisted O-lo-a.
“I know that he is a wondrous man and very brave,” said Pan-at-lee, “and that he saved me from the Tor-o-don and the gryf as I told you, and that he is indeed the same who came into the garden this morning; and even now I do not know that he is not the son of Jad-ben-Otho for his courage and his strength are more than those of mortal man, as are also his kindness and his honor: for when he might have harmed me he protected me, and when he might have saved himself he thought only of me. And all this he did because of his friendship for Om-at, who is gund of Kor-ul-ja and with whom I should have mated had the Ho-don not captured me.”
“He was indeed a wonderful man to look upon,” mused O-lo-a, “and he was not as are other men, not alone in the conformation of his hands and feet or the fact that he was tailless, but there was that about him which made him seem different in ways more important than these.”
“And,” supplemented Pan-at-lee, her savage little heart loyal to the man who had befriended her and hoping to win for him the consideration of the princess even though it might not avail him; “and,” she said, “did he not know all about Ta-den and even his whereabouts. Tell me, O Princess, could mortal know such things as these?”
“Perhaps he saw Ta-den,” suggested O-lo-a.
“But how would he know that you loved Ta-den,” parried Pan-at-lee. “I tell you, my Princess, that if he is not a god he is at least more than Ho-don
