Avon Fantasy Reader No. 12 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

one foreleg came through. Omar Sung Loo’s shaking fingers grabbed a sack of tiger dust from his foin-rag and he tried to loosen the string. The tigress leaped to earth, and came toward them, her great rack stepping deliberately, daintily, but she was snarling her rage. Fear- «stricken, Omar shook the oat of tiger dust, but a hot wind carried it | high in air, over the pond. His scream was pitiful, but it was cut short as the tigress leaped. f Dineen whirled as he saw the animal’s jaws fasten on the neck of Omar, and she shook him like a rat. His body fell and lay still, blood pulsing from his neck into the dust. Over him the tigress stood, her ears laid back, snarling at Dineen. He saw her body flatten, her muscles gathered to leap. There eame the quick staccato of gunshots and the beautiful beast dropped slowly over the body of the man she had killed. Dineen darted toward the gate. There he halted to look back. He _ stared, rubbed his eyes and retraced his steps. A ery of near madness » came from his lips. In the sum-baked kampong dust lay the dead Omar Sung Loo, face down, and over his slowidene was the amber-tinted body of a woman. Blood drained like scarlet ribbons from the bullet wounds in her breast. About her neck was the string of small pearls he had given “the wife of Tom Rourke! But it seemed to him her lips smiled aud in her partly opened eyes was a look of triumph slowly dimming as » they glazed in the chill of death. t 101 comichbooks.com