leopard, rose from the screen of leaves just beneath him and, crouching briefly, sprang without warning at the golden form fifteen feet below.

That second of hesitation on the part of the cat, saved the girl's life. Tharn, trained to think and to act in the same instant, was in mid-air as Tarlok's claws left the bark. And so, inches from that softly curved back, the beast was swept aside by the impact of a hundred and seventy pounds of muscular manhood.

Snarling its rage, the cat wheeled as it struck the earth, then pounced, almost in the same motion, at Tharn's half-kneeling figure. But, swift as was the movement, the man was quicker. Crouching under the arc of the hurtling body, the Cro-Magnard drove his long knife to the hilt in the white-furred belly. The force of the leap, plus the power behind that strong right arm, tore a long, deep gash, and the animal fell, screaming with pain and hate. Quickly he regained his feet and again threw himself at the two-legged creature in his path. But Tharn easily avoided the charge and vaulted into a nearby tree.

Blood streamed from the fatally wounded leopard as it turned to the man's leafy haven and attempted to scramble into the lower branches. The effort cost Tarlok his remaining strength, however, and he toppled heavily to earth. Once more he sought to regain his feet, only to collapse and move no more.

As Tharn came down to the floor of the glade, he wondered why the scream of the giant cat had not brought enemy warriors running to the scene. That none had appeared made certain his belief that they were elsewhere in the neighborhood, and he breathed easier.

As soon as Tharn reappeared, the girl whose life he had saved rose from a clump of bushes a few feet away. And thus they stood there, each eyeing the other with frank interest.

Tharn's brain was awhirl. So much that was new and exciting had crowded into it within the last few hours that he was incapable of rational thinking. But this he knew: something had been born within him that had not been there an hour ago.

He spoke first. "I am Tharn," he said.

The girl did not at once respond to his implied question. She seemed hesitant, uncertain as to the wisdom of remaining there.

"I am Dylara," she said at last, her voice low and soft, yet wonderfully clear. "My father is chief of the tribe that bears his name. The caves of Majok are there," and she pointed toward the cliff, hidden from them by intervening trees.

Under the impetus of crystallizing realization, Tharn said what he had wanted to say from the first. "I kept Tarlok from getting you," he reminded her. "Now you belong to me!"

The brown-haired girl flushed with mingled astonishment and anger.

"You are a fool!" she retorted. "I belong to no one. Because you saved me from Tarlok, I will not call my people if you go away at once."

She turned and would have left him had not Tharn reached out and caught her by the arm.

Instantly she wheeled and struck him savagely across the mouth with her free hand, struggling to break his hold as she did so.

Then Tharn, his face smarting, hesitated no longer. With an effortless motion he drew her into the circle of his arms, tossed her lightly across one broad shoulder and broke into a run, heading back in the direction of home. His prisoner let out a single cry for help; then a calloused palm covered her lips.

And hardly had the echoes of that shout faded than six brawny fighting-men rose from the edge of the jungle, directly in Tharn's path!

At sight of the newcomers, Tharn whirled to his left, and raced away with enormous bounding strides despite the handicap of his burden. With loud yells and frightful threats beating against his ears, the cave man vanished into the tangled maze beyond the clearing.

Pursuit was immediate. For several hundred yards the chase continued at break-neck speed. Compared to those behind him, Tharn's passage was almost silent, his lithe figure slipping smoothly among the tree trunks. And then into view came the shallow, swift-flowing stream which he had scented while still in the clearing. Dashing into the water he splashed rapidly up-stream for a hundred yards, a sharp bend hiding him from the point at which he had entered.

Now he saw ahead of him that which he had hoped to find—the immense branch of a jungle giant, hanging low above the water's shimmering surface. Upon reaching the limb he drew himself and his captive into the leaves; then, stepping lightly from bough to bough, his balance controlled by a single hand, he moved rapidly inland, passing easily from tree to tree. Now and then he paused to listen for some indication of pursuit, but nothing reached those keen ears except the familiar sounds of a semi-tropical forest.

Tharn was beginning to wonder what far-reaching effects this half-mad abduction would have on his future life. He tried to picture his father's face when he saw his son returning with a strange mate, and the image was not an altogether pleasant one. Taking a mate by force was not entirely uncommon among Cro-Magnon people, although he had heard the elder Tharn declare that no true man would do so. The Hairy Ones took their women in that fashion; but then they were hardly more than the beasts.

And Barkoo! Tharn shuddered at the thought of his teacher's reaction. He would say much—remarks that would sear the hide of Pandor, the elephant!

He shrugged mentally. Let them, then! Many would envy him his prize; for certainly none among the women of the tribe was half so fair. He hoped that between now and the time Dylara and he arrived home, she would prove more tractable. Were she to repulse him in front of the others.... He dropped the thought as though it were white-hot.

An hour later he descended at the edge of a small natural clearing. A spring bubbled in one corner, and beside it the girl was lowered to her feet. The man and the girl knelt to drink, then sat up.

Tharn glanced at her, and grinned when she promptly turned her back. She was angrily rubbing her wrists to restore the circulation his strong grasp had partially cut off.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, her head still turned away.

"To my caves and my tribe," Tharn replied. "You shall be my mate. Someday I shall be chief."

The quiet words brought the beautiful head quickly around, and the girl glared at him hotly.

"I would sooner mate with Gubo, the hyena!" she snapped.

Tharn's grin required effort. "I think not," he said calmly. "I will be good to you. You shall have the finest skins to warm you, the best food to eat. Your cave will be large and light, and no one will tell you what to do. Except me, of course," he added slyly.

She searched wildly for a telling retort. "I—I hate you!"

Tharn met the angry eyes with a serenity he secretly was far from feeling.

"You will love me. I will make you love me," he assured her.

By this time Dylara was so exasperated that she had almost forgotten her fright. What good did it do to argue with this headstrong youth? He turned back every command, every retort, with an unruffled aplomb that filled her with helpless fury. It was, she thought, like beating bare fists against a boulder. Angry tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned away, ashamed to show the extent of her agitation. Her father, she knew, would have warriors scouring the countryside in search of her. But how could they hope to follow a trail that led through the forest top? In all her life she had never heard of a man who used the pathway ordinarily reserved for little Nobar, the monkey. True, many of the tribesmen were accomplished tree-climbers, often ambushing game from their branches. But such climbing faded to nothingness when compared with this amazing man's superhuman agility and strength.

She stole a glance at his face. The broad, high forehead, the bronzed clean-scraped cheeks, the strong jaw and mobile, sensitive lips stirred something