 Tarzan of the Eighth, from the novels by Edgar Wright Burroughs with Mr. James H. Pierce as Tarzan and Miss Joanne Burroughs as Jane Porter. While searching for his daughter Jane, Professor Porter and his party are captured by cannibals. They establish themselves as miracle workers, however, by predicting rain. In gratitude, the cannibals offer them freedom. Jane Porter is being saved from the cannibals by Tarzan. To escape a tropical thunderstorm, they go to the hut by the river. While there, Tarzan digs out of his arrow case the famous Grey Stoke Locket. Now, are you ready? Hold your breath. In the little cabin built by Lord Grey Stoke 20 years before, Tarzan and Jane Porter stand facing each other. The pale, flickering yellowish light cast by the oil lamp only serves to emphasize the bare crudeness of the surroundings. Jane looks at the Grey Stoke Locket in her hand. Tarzan watches a puzzled look in his eyes. He takes the locket and hangs it about Jane's neck. No, no, why, Tim? I can't. You mustn't give me the locket. Jane, no lie? It's not that, why, Tim, but you don't know. You can't know what significance lies behind a woman's acceptance of this locket. I can't bear it. Jane takes the locket from her neck and examines it closely. The diamonds flash and sparkle as she presses the two tiny catches that open it. Tarzan leans forward dense with excitement. Ah, beautiful. All the many, many years he's had this locket, he never knew till now that it could be opened. There heads together, Jane and Tarzan look at the two ivory miniatures encased in the two halves of the locket. Lord Grey Stoke and the beautiful Lady Alice. You, Jane, no? Yes, White Skin, Cecil's uncle and aunt. Of course, you don't know Cecil. That is not my name. If we ever find Daddy, you will meet Cecil. By White Skin, what is this? Another package of leaves? This, same as, same as man in locket. Another portrait, another portrait of Grey Stoke. We're ready to get them, White Skin. White Skin finds here. Many, many find here. White Skin finds here. His man, no ape, here. Find locket, all find here. Of course. How stupid of me. You found the box in the hut, in the cupboard. I should have thought of that before. You know, there's quite a resemblance between you and this portrait. But of course, that's just imagination. What, Jane? Nothing, White Skin. I was just talking to myself again. Look, look. Rain stop. Look. Yes, you're right. I'm glad. Although for the moment I was so taken up with these that I hadn't noticed. Now, we go back, Jungle. Well, White Skin, before we do, if we must, I vote for Swim first. Swim? Swim? Go in water, creek, river. And Jane, as she says the word, Swim, demonstrates her meaning to Tarzan. The ape man's face lights up as he catches what she means. Ever since that day so many years ago, when he had taken refuge from Sabor by jumping into the river, Swimming has been one of Tarzan's keenest delights. He turns to Jane. Jane, Swim? Jane, want to come back hut? Know what? Go, Jungle? Do we have to go back to the trees, White Skin? I feel much safer at the hut. And then, if Daddy comes back, why, what's that you've got, White Skin? This? White Skin makes. Before day when Jane, father, many men, come White Skin hut. White Skin makes. That's a good warning. The warning we found on the hut door the day we landed. You, you know it? I don't understand. Mine. All mine. Hut, locket, all belong White Skin. But, but this warning is signed Tarzan of the Ape. How can you say this is yours? Tarzan of the Ape understands English, and, well, I've had to teach you. Oh, I don't know what to think. Tarzan, Tarzan of Ape, White Skin, all same. Tarzan, White Skin, same as. You. Back in the cannibal trial, the black witch doctor sits in his hut, brooding. His hatred of these white-roofed discredited knows no bounds. His twisted misshapen body writhes and shakes with pent-up juries, as his spies tell him of the White Party's preparations to leave. I'm really quite worried about Clayton. Donald, do you think his illness will hold us up? I think not. He has just a slight touch of fever. What Mr. Clayton needs is action. The strain of doing nothing, of waiting for something to happen, to gather with his feverish touch, have proved too much for him. Once we are on the move, he was rapidly recovered. You don't think there's anything really to worry about? I do not say that, Mr. This African fever is a dangerous thing. Sometimes it kills, almost without warning. Again, its slow ravages are of such a nature that nothing seems to cure or stop them. Is there anything at all that we can do? Get him into the hands of the ship's doctor as quickly as possible. That is the only thing I can suggest. Save him from as much excitement as possible. And, Mr. Contrary, take him as little as possible. But come, let the spiritual preparations end. I shall await, Mr. Clayton. No need to, Donald. I'm awake. The thought that we're leaving this place is like a toilet. I feel a little dizzy and lightheaded, but I'll be all right in the short track, as you seem to be sure. Because, as I said, the quicker we get away, the better. Do you suppose the chief will permit us to take our arms? I, I frankly, I don't feel at home now unless I am carrying a rifle. So far, the chief has raised no objection. My men are getting everything ready now. And have you given any thought as to what we shall do after leaving here? I continue our search for James, of course. No, we, we, Mr. Clayton, understand. But, after all, the African jungle is a large territory. I should suggest, yes or no, that we go directly to the hut. The hut in the clearing. There is a possibility that we may come across the person Mr. Othelande believes is Tarzan of the Apes on our way there. And it's not. What then? I would say that some of us remain at the hut. Await the arrival of the crew there. You mean to look after me, Donald? Oh, no. I'm going to search if I have to do it alone. My dear, Mr. Clayton. How could you suggest such a thing? Don't you understand that I'm in love with James? Every minute she's alone in the jungle. Now, now, now, Clayton, Clayton, we understand. Down low merely meant that until you have recovered your strength, it should be better if you were in the hut instead of out in the jungle. Well, what can have happened now? Voila, here comes the key door. Very much upset, too. They're delighted. Well, I hope that you have nothing else that's happened to prevent our leaving this rotten hole. Your Honor, message. We come. White devil gone. White men found. Go cave. What? What is that, Your Honor? A messenger has just brought word that Parzan and Memoirs-El-Jean have been seen at the sacred cave. The mummy cave. That goodness gracious! Oh, what could they be doing there? Conta moi, Monsieur. I do not believe it. There is no thing at the cave that Parzan of the age could want. No, no, Monsieur. It is a trick of that witch doctor. That is the witch doctor just wanted to trick us. He could have sent the message secretly. And anyway, we can't afford to ignore the message. The natives have taken it seriously. Look at them. The whole tribe is ready to leave. And that is just why I think it is a plot. The witch doctor could achieve three things by inventing such a lie. Three things? Donald? Yes. Firstly, this here is taboo. If the natives think that Parzan of the age and Memoirs-El-Jean have broken the taboo, they will kill them on sight. Oh, God. Do you think that, Donald? Yes, I do. And secondly, the witch doctor is so enuriated with us that nothing would suit him better than to lure us there and trap us. So, we know the way out of the cave now. And our friend the witch doctor knows that we know it. But what good will that do him? He probably has some sort of surprise awaiting us. And then, again, if he can put us out of the way this time definitely and do it in the cave, he re-establishes himself in their asses. And then you're entitled to ignore the message. It is. Oh, but, oh, dear, dear, we've talked about to ignore it. If we didn't go and it turned out that Jane was there. I am not going to ignore it. I'm going. I don't know what to say. I feel Adano's right, but then I agree with Archimedes. I'm not going to wait any longer. These days it was a pining out of the compound now. I'm going. Very well, Monsieur. I shall say no more. Of course I cannot let you go alone. But the supporter and the white party hurray toward the cave Jane and Tarzan make their way to the river. After that horrible cannibal village, the jungle is almost, almost peaceful. If I only knew that Daddy and Cecil and Mr. Philander were safe, I'd be content. Safe? Out of danger. Not having to be afraid anymore. Oh, Tarzan, you don't know what fear is. You don't know what it is to be afraid. I don't believe that you ever think that anything is dangerous. It is just all a part of your life. Talents, fangs, deaths. Huzzing and being hunted. The jungle. You are the jungle. And you are so sure of yourself like the lion. Yes, you are very much like the lion, Tarzan. You're wonderful. If I'm not careful, I'll be falling in love with you. Love? Now you would pick up at one word, wouldn't you? Why couldn't you want to know what falling means instead? Tarzan, no falling. Way up, come down, fast. Tarzan, no love. Jane, tell Tarzan. Now look here, young man. We started out for a swim and we're getting way off the track. Much, much too far off the track. Now you swim here and Jane could upstream a little way and swim. You understand? Tarzan, swim here. Tarzan, swim here. Love. And see that you do swim here. As Jane reaches the little pools surrounded by trees where she has swum before, she pauses a moment standing on a log that projects out over the water. How quiet and lovely and peaceful. Inside the pool that long body is streaking torpedo light through the water straight toward Jane. She turns, she sees it. Him, love, a crocodile. She fights out for the shore. It's slippery. She's far way out. She slips back into the dark water. Right in time. Dono and the white party are fairly sure that they're walking into a trap. But this time, with their eyes open, can they out with the witch doctor?