Attacked By Tabor

Tarzan of the Apes brought to you out the pages of Edgar Riceboro's famous book. Tarzan lies unconscious on the ground. Tabor sees a light hairless body and ain't emotionally before her. Crouching, smiling, her lean, punchy as cat of an ether, her back arches with a spring, her jaws gaping to reveal her yellow fangs.

Missiles hit the full of things which lie so helpless in front of her, being from a baleful yellowish eye. Forays, tents, house-twellily, the lion waits for some movement, some motion which will send her hurling upon her victim.

There is a moment of silence, a tense moment, a moment in which furious death waits to execute its grim mission. Forays, waiting. Slowly, say, Boar's animal brain connects the presence of her cub with Tarzan.

Sister was devouring the cup. Tarzan fought, Sister. The cup is safe. Slowly, suspiciously, the great beast relaxes. The hair on a short mane gradually lies down and her tints haunt you straighten. Slowly, very slowly, she advances toward Tarzan's limp body.

Snarling deep in her throat, she stops, showing the strange creature lying so still before her, the deference of fear. Cloches ever ready to press the life out of the thing, will almighty poor should it move?

She advances closer and closer, step by step. First sharp lunges, breath is hot on Tarzan's neck. Seaball snips. The thing is a strange scent. Not the scent of a nape. Seaball is puss. Tarzan stirs.

Wears a little in his unconsciousness. Seaball looks back, snolly, The power of the ball raised to push the head of that strange creature. Slowly, she puts her foot back on the ground, circles Tarzan, and without further ado, drops away, urging her cubs before her.