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The Lost Continent | Edgar Rice Burroughs | |
Chapter 4 |
Page 8 of 16 |
"There is no such place near by," she said. "Only the Camp of the Lions has places of stone where the beasts lair, but there are no people in the Camp of the Lions. Who would dare go there!" And she shuddered. "The Camp of the Lions," I repeated. "And where is that, and what?" "It is there," she said, pointing up the river toward the west. "I have seen it from a great distance, but I have never been there. We are much afraid of the lions, for this is their country, and they are angry that man has come to live here. "Far away there," and she pointed toward the south-west, "is the land of tigers, which is even worse than this, the land of the lions, for the tigers are more numerous than the lions and hungrier for human flesh. There were tigers here long ago, but both the lions and the men set upon them and drove them off." "Where did these savage beasts come from?" I asked. "Oh," she replied, "they have been here always. It is their country." "Do they not kill and eat your people?" I asked. "Often, when we meet them by accident, and we are too few to slay them, or when one goes too close to their camp. But seldom do they hunt us, for they find what food they need among the deer and wild cattle, and, too, we make them gifts, for are we not intruders in their country? Really we live upon good terms with them, though I should not care to meet one were there not many spears in my party." "I should like to visit this Camp of the Lions," I said. |
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The Lost Continent Edgar Rice Burroughs |
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