ROARS of applause. A swaying motion. Intolerable heat. Tam returned to consciousness and felt a cool hand on his brow. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but the hand restrained him.
"Lie still, beloved. You are very weak." It was the voice of Nina—the hand of Nina. Eagerly he grasped the hand. "Where are we?" he asked.
"Back in Aryatun, dear heart. For four days you have been delirious. I despaired of your life, but the great compassionate Mother saved you for me, and three of her priests helped me to bring you down the mountain. Praise Nina, the fever has broken at last, and you will get well."
"Those people. Why are they shouting?"
"Let me prop you up a little, and you will see for yourself." She helped him to lift his head, and adjusted the silken cushions. They were riding in a magnificent litter, swung between two richly caparisoned mammoths walking tandem. The streets were lined with men, women and children, crowding each other to get a look at the returning hero, and shouting:
"Hail, Tam, Son of the Tiger! He has slain the Destroyer and saved the world!"
Beside the litter on one side walked Dhava, proudly carrying a long pike, from the top of which the head of Siva leered blankly down at the populace, the hilt of Tam's dagger still projecting from its third eye. Behind Dhava walked Lozong, accompanied by Mei, the young tigress, and Leang Nei, the white old tigress. On the other side of the litter strode Major Evans and Doctor Green. Behind them, head stiffly erect, obviously conscious of the tremendous adulation of the crowd, walked Yusuf the Pathan with three rifles slung over his shoulder.
"Why, we're nearing your palace," Tam said, as the beautiful building loomed before them.
"We are nearing our palace, beloved," Nina replied, and there in full view of the madly cheering populace she bent and kissed him on the lips.