Avon Fantasy Reader No. 12 — page 102: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

it is past the belief of a white Tuan. But the tigress is my kinswoman, the wife of Tuan Rourke!” “Nonsense,” shouted Dineen, “You lie to met” “Tuan, 1 speak truth, She is a tigress berhantu. A ghost tigress.” “Then why should cage bars hold her, Inbam?” “Tuan, it is that magic tiger dust of Omar Sung Loo drugging her senses. She lies contented licking it, rolling in the d irty straw, she who loved perfumes and silks and jewels. Tuan, see her and know if I lie to you. She wears the pearls you gave her on her neck!” Dineen laughed harshly. These nightmares were sending him mad. Reason was tottering. He would get out at once. Inbam agreed to go with him, but when they started from the village they learned that Omar Sung Loo had gone, the tigress was on her way to his kam- pong. Driven now by a desire to see the finish of the affair, Dineen followed. The lumbering cage on cart-wheels, drawn by carabaos, was somewhere on the river road, but Dineen took a boat and some time in the night he passed it. He waited in the village until word came that Omar Sung Loo had returned. Then with a loaded gun in his pocket he went to the kamponeg. Omar Sung Loo stood at the gate and barred his way belligerently. Smirking and defiant, he said he had nothing for sale. “You captured a tigress. I will buy ber,” said Dineen, “She is not for sale, Tuan. Down her black throat has gone more of my magic powder than she is worth. Yet I have an allection for the beast and will not sell her.” “Let me sce hert” Dineen’s gun poked the belly of Omar Sung Loo and his finger curved on the trigger. The dealer snarled and backed toward the kampong where the tigress lay in her cage on dirty jungle grass, her tongue lolling thirstily, her cyes glowing green with hate aud fear. She crouched and snarled as Omar Sung Loo came near, and her lithe paw reached through the bars. Dineen held Omar Sung Loo in a corner by the cage, with his gun still indenting the brown skin, The cries of Omar fell on heedless ears. Dincen began to whistle, then to sing the tune of the love pantun he had heard Rourke’s wife sing, and again heard roared from the throat of a bull ape in the jungle. The eflect on the tigress was startling. She lifted her head and roared. She worked hersclf into a fury and her long claws tore splin- ters from the cage bars. Then she went into a flurry that made the wooden crate creak and strain. Omar screeched in fear, his defiance was gone. “Tuan, she was kept without food or water, but the cage bars can- not hold her now, They are breaking!” It was true. Two of the bars were gone. The head of the tigress and 100 comichbooks.com