his poisoned arrows, his rope, his knife, or his bare hands.
Instinctively he wished that he had his arrows and his knife--he
would have felt surer with them.

Numa was lying quite flat upon the ground now, presenting only his
head. Tarzan would have preferred to fire a little from one side,
for he knew what terrific damage the lion could do if he lived
two minutes, or even a minute after he was hit. The horse stood
trembling in terror at Tarzan's back. The ape-man took a cautious
step to one side--Numa but followed him with his eyes. Another
step he took, and then another. Numa had not moved. Now he could
aim at a point between the eye and the ear.

His finger tightened upon the trigger, and as he fired Numa sprang.
At the same instant the terrified horse made a last frantic effort
to escape--the tether parted, and he went careening down the canon
toward the desert.

No ordinary man could have escaped those frightful claws when Numa
sprang from so short a distance, but Tarzan was no ordinary man.
From earliest childhood his muscles had been trained by the fierce
exigencies of his existence to act with the rapidity of thought.
As quick as was EL ADREA, Tarzan of the Apes was quicker, and so
the great beast crashed against a tree where he had expected to
feel the soft flesh of man, while Tarzan, a couple of paces to the
right, pumped another bullet into him that brought him clawing and
roaring to his side.

Twice more Tarzan fired in quick succession, and then EL ADREA lay
still and roared no more. It was no longer Monsieur Jean Tarzan;