 Tarzan of the Apes, from the novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs, with Mr. James H. Pierce as Tarzan, and Mr. Van Burroughs as Jane Porter. Professor Porter and his party, searching the jungle for Jane, the professor's daughter, are captured by cannibals. Jane, meanwhile, has been found by Tarzan, who takes her to the cannibal's crowd to see if her father is there. They are captured. Tarzan breaks his bonds, rescues Jane from the witch doctor, and carries her back into the jungle. Now, are you ready? Hold your breath. Oh, now, just go away. It's such safe and quiet. Let's go. Once again, he smashes her from out of her very arms. Jane! Jane! Perchagony days. She's safe. Hey, Philander, what are you talking about? Off again in the jungle with that... Now, Clayton, there's no earthly use acting that way. If Jane has been all these weeks with Tarzan of the Apes, why should she come to any particular harm, simply because that pagan person has been able to do what we have failed miserably in attempting. But, but Philander, can't you? Do you? Great scotman. I'm in love with that girl. And to see her carried off the way... May be, Mr. Clayton, we understand. But you must realize that whoever that person is, he has rendered the woman you love a great serving. I'm so relieved. I don't know what to do, what to say. But, Jane, Jane is safe. I wish I could share your, your belief. I'm uneasy. Every minute that Jane is not under our protection. Calm, calm, calm, Mr. Clayton, that's not what you are saying. Only one brief moment ago, we were upset. But why? Because Memoirs El Jane was in direst danger. That danger seems to be transferred to us. Look, undoubtedly, the natives believe us responsible for Jane's escape. Why, here comes the cheater. Oh, no. Oh, no. The distant man he spoke of chief. Oh, no. Save White Devil God. I thought, too. The witch doctor blames us for the escape. We can stop that. Quickly, Mr. Clayton. We have to stop that. Do as I say, Mr. I shall take care of the chief. All right? Before the chief. Very, Mr. Clayton. Before. Kabatka, ladau, amaturi. Bargo, kidogo, kildini. Kupa, cacula. They don't seem to believe you, darling. I told them that if the witch doctor had left us alone, our medicine would have brought rain and much food. What am I doing? I'm going to get him poured by that rope around his neck. I shall settle him for good with his tribe and his chief. Enzy, pangotiara, masinadalir, imshai. Oh, no. What's the mistake? What is the fellow saying, darling? He has recognized the rope about the witch doctor's neck as the one with which they bound Tarzan. He says this proves that the witch doctor's medicine is no good. Yes. He'll have a topping time explaining that rope. Look. Look at the chief. They're about to ready to cook their own witch doctor. While the infuriated, needy surgeon circle about the cannibal krull, Tarzan carries Jane faster and faster, farther and farther into the jungle, in the direction of the little platform in the trees. For Jane Porter, the relief at being rescued amounts to a reaction almost hysterical. No, I get it. I never expected to see Jane I again. I thought, I thought that we would both end our days at the stake. Oh, I know I'm rattling on, but you don't know the relief. Why the jungle is no longer terrible. It's a haven of refuge compared to that horrible village. Jane, all right? Yes, now. I can hardly believe. It doesn't seem possible that we're still alive. But once more, White Skin, I'm being held safe in your arms. Jane, no more frightened. No talk. But I must talk, White Skin. If I don't talk, I'll scream. I'll cry. I'll make some kind of a fool of myself so you don't understand. You haven't a name in your body. You're, you're superhuman. Sometimes I have to rub my eyes to believe that you're real. Jane, all right now. A little more. Go home. Home. Yes, White Skin, I guess you're right. That little platform is as much of a home as I've got now. Oh, White Skin, any excitement of being rescued, I've forgotten Daddy. Dad, Daddy? Father, back at Black Man Village. Other time, White Skin go back to Black Man Village, take Father, bring Father Jane. Oh, you mustn't. Oh, you can't go back there. But, but, oh, dear, what am I thinking? Yes, you must go back. Father, Mr. Belander, Sassel. Many fathers, stop. Black Man Village? Not exactly, White Skin. Oh, I'm too worn out to try to correct that mistake. As long as you understand, that's enough. Down from the upper jungle terrace, Farzhan drops to the familiar clearing about the platform. Carefully but swiftly, his practice hand grasps the tough biens as his unerring feet fine hold after hold on the rough uneven bark of the thicker branches. Gently, the eight-man lowers Jane to the least branches forming the platform. Jane, Jane, hold. Home, White Skin. I think, in fact, I know that all my friends back home would think I was crazy if they heard that I, I was actually glad to get back here to this place and call it home. Farzhan raises his head, his delicate nostrils quiver as he draws deep breaths of the sultry torrid air. The eight-man's brows become wrinkled. Jane watches him inquiringly. What's wrong, White Skin? Pretty soon, big water comes, much big water. Rain? You mean rain? Water, much water. Make better home, take many leaves. You think we better improve our shelter? Well, I'll admit that it's not much in the way of a shelter against a tropical storm. White Skin gets many leaves, big water comes. Jane, no frighten. I don't quite blame you, White Skin, for thinking Jane gets frightened at everything, but I'm really not afraid of the rain. It may be unpleasant and nasty to get all wet with no fire to dry out by, but no, White Skin, no, no, I'm not frightened. White Skin, go, get leaves. Jane, stop here. All right, White Skin, you hand them up to me and I'll help you strengthen our roof if it can be properly called a roof. Jane, help? All right, I'm ready. Goodness, but you're strong. Father Cessar would need an axe or a sword to break through branches like that. Oh, I can hardly lift this one up. Little more, quick, water comes. Well, I'm doing the best I can. Yes, Jane. Why can't we go to the hut until the rain passes? What Jane taught? White Skin, Jane, go hut. Rain come, go hut? Yes. Yes, yes, rain come, White Skin, Jane, go hut. And with never an effort, Tarzan swings back to the platform, gathers Jane to him, and starts off through the trees in the direction of the little cabin built by Lord Grey Stoke so many years ago. Max Mechanical Grial, Professor Porter, Belander, Clayton, and Darno watched the distompature of the witch doctor as the natives dance about him and shout their derision as he stands with the rope about his neck, the rope with which he had ordered Tarzan bound. It really would seem as though our vindication was complete. But yes, only of course. A shift of wind, a wrong action, and like a packed up, hungry wolf, is able to turn on us again. Now that Jane is out of this place, I don't care what. Monsieur! Yes, sir, no, I'm busy. Monsieur, unless my ears deceive me, I heard distance from there. What? And the natives? The natives are too busy. Secrets natural though for a sailor to catch the sound of distance from there, but I shall make sure. But how are you going to do that? I'm going to check my glass. The barometer in my equipment at the other hut, I shall not be long. If we can be absolutely sure of rain, then... It's almost such as this paint for me. Then... It almost looks like this paint for once we're playing into our hands. We must make some sort of an attempt at a rain ceremony then, that we might as well do this thing properly. Not so much doing this thing properly as it is getting our necks out of the noose. If the rain comes and we do perform the rain ceremony. Yes, dano. What's up, dano? Yes, the glass is falling rapidly. We shall have rain. Sir, tell them all. Then we should start as quickly as possible. Yes, there it is. I am going to tell him that in spite of the witch doctor's interference, we shall bring the rain. Mange Kilindini. Kabata Matsuri. Tane Nadaria. Quick, we'll see the professor do anything. Make signs to heaven. Anything at all that looks impressive. I will assume an air of devotion and walk slowly to the fire. I'll get a flare from that. Go ahead, professor. I'll follow you. Well, I'm sure we have their attention already. If Clayton will arrive with that flare about the same time as I reach the fire, I will tell him, professor, I see him coming now. Here it is. Fine. Sure. But the sky is blackening. Hit on your knees. Clayton, and hand the flare to the professor. Here is the devil fire that thou desire it. As Clayton speaks, he falls to his knees before professor Porter. The professor takes the flare, setting it in the ground, draws a burning brand from the fire. He lights the flare. The vivid green light flares up, casts a weird on earthly light over the compound. The natives hold out their hands in an attitude of supplication, and then, with one accord, they begin the chant to the rain god. As the black smoke will gather the clouds, and the rain will come, will gather the clouds, and the rain will come. So the smoke will gather the clouds, and the rain will come. The smoke will gather the clouds, and the rain will come. Jane and Tarzan are on their way to the hut built by Lord Greystone, Tarzan's father. For the cannibals rain has come. But what will the blacks do do now that Tarzan and Jane have escaped them. This is anima-