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126 fellows; but still they came.

They jumped their diadets over every obstruc­tion. One rider, leaping straight for him, struck him head on in the pit of the stomach, half wind­ing him and sending him back a step. Another and another struck his legs and sides. Again and again the needlelike points of their rapiers pierced his brown hide until from hips to feet he was red with his own blood, and always there were more thousands bearing down upon him. His weapons, useless against them, he made no at­tempt to use and though he wrought havoc among them with his bare hands there were always a hundred to take the place of each that he disposed of.

He smiled grimly as he realized that in these little people, scarce one-fourth his size, he, the incomparable Tarzan, the Lord of the Jungle, had met his Wellington. He realized that he was entirely surrounded by the Veltopismakusians now, the warriors of Trohanadalmakus having engaged the advancing enemy were racing onward with them toward the seven thousand dismounted men who were to receive the brunt of that ter­rific charge. Tarzan wished that he might have witnessed this phase of the battle, but he had fighting enough and to spare to engage all his at­ tention where he was.

Again he was struck in the stomach by a charg­ing rider and again the blow staggered him.