 From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery and violence, comes one of the most colorful figures of all time. Transcribed from the immortal pen of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Tarzan, the bronze white son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of the Mask of Monotiqui. Along the rugged elephant trail, pondering in the horrible fate of so many strangers who would brave the fierce congles. And lost in thought, he was oblivious of the band of chattering monkeys who swung from tree to tree following in his wake. And finally they worried of the game and scampered off, save for one tiny simian who dodged Tarzan's footsteps, shrily demanding recognition. I'm sorry, small one, but today I have no patience. Nakima, I didn't recognize you. Now careful, Nakima, your nails are as sharp as those of sheet of the panther. Oh, you sit quietly on my shoulder and tell me what you've been up to during these many moments you've been away. As I recall, the last I saw of you, you were in pursuit of a very pretty little female monkey. That's fine, I'm happy you decided to marry, settle down and raise a family. Well, at least you returned in time to cheer me up. Before the wind changed, I caught an alien scent. A good cold. Oh, so you still have the disposition of a small boy, huh? All right, Nakima, we'll play tag. I can travel as quickly as you, Nakima. And I, too, can swing up into the upper level. Here's a vine right here that I can use. Oh, crazy. You couldn't have gone too far in this length of time. Oh, monkey, now don't move. I've been hunting for a specimen like you for days now, and I'm right in position to get a good shot off. I just take carefully in and in. No, no, no, come with me. My knife moves quickly, and I have no pity for one who would chew down a defenseless monkey. No harm to this cunning little rascal. But I heard you could doling him to remain still so that you could get a good shot at him. Not at him, young man, of him. Put the camera in my hand until you pounce on me. I owe you an apology. Nakima, put down that camera. If you break it up. That camera, sir. I hope it's un-damaging. Looks all right. Despite Nakima and my best efforts to ruin it, if you're needing to apologize, I love animals as much as you obviously do. That's why I won't even carry a gun when I come out to shoot pictures. You come into the Middle Congo alone without any weapon? Well, I'm no longer a young man, and I have about all I can do to carry my photographic equipment and a few living essentials. My name's Obride, by the way. And since we're now friends and you have accepted one apology, I shall make another. I was mistaken about your odor. My odor? You mean I don't follow the advice of the right head? No, not that. But every living thing has a special scent. That's how a man's dog can recognize him even in the pitch dark. Some animals have a keener sense of smell than others, and mine is most highly developed. But what are you getting at? One reason I pounced on you without even looking down at your weapon was that a foreign scent has sailed my nostrils only a short time before our meeting, just before the wind shifted. My anger was directed at you, but the scent was not yours, Mr. Obride. But even if there are some other far imagine the vicinity, what's the harm in it? When strangers have entered the jungle in the past, it has always meant great trouble for themselves or for others. I have no reason to believe that this occasion will be different. I say this camp you've built is a welcome change for me. Instead of our promises to be much more comfortable than felting up on top of a rock, and that little cave you found proved an ideal spot for developing my film. I must you develop them right away. Well, sometimes with all the heat and dampness of the jungle, from there a mildew can ruin an entire school of film. I'd have hated to lose that shot of the pygmy rhino, for example. I spoiled that picture of Nakima, but perhaps he'll post for you some other time. He's gone to rejoin his family, but he might well be back. He's an awful gypsy. You really understand his chattering? Not the words, actually, but if I want to spend a lifetime in the jungle, a literal translation of the language of animals isn't really necessary. You see that chaos just beyond the fringe of firelight? Chaos. An African wildcat. That's what I meant. I can tell at a glance that he's recently feasted well and has been attracted only by curiosity. It's the two-legged animals who are drawn to a campfire that one must be wary of. I see you're back on your favorite subject. Well, if those men you smelled aren't miles away by this time, then they must have constituted the mean of your friend the chaos recently enjoyed. I think not. The chaos dined on a jungle fowl while the strangers were climbing the hill in the distance looking for a campsite. When they observed our fire, they started down and they should reach the north edge of this clearing within a matter of minutes. George, I wish I had your Ouija board. They're breaking through the brush right now. What a fantastic shot they'd make. Their wardrobe would provide a colorful picture. The negro in his fifth helmet and store clothes. They're the oriental and the Chinese robe. And the white man in the crude garments of a dialler crater. They're certainly the strangest traveling companions I've ever seen. In Africa, only the normal is strange. And the strange is completely normal. They dare say, but I don't like the looks of them. Oh, they're guns. I'll attempt to be considerate campnates. My name is Roberts. And this gentleman is Mr. Cao. This lonely one humbly adds his thanks for your graciousness in receiving us into your temporary abode. And this is Wotan. I don't know you, gents. I am Charsen and this jungle is my home. My companion is Mr. Albright who's come here to take pictures of wild animals. What brings you here? I'm serving as a guide. These gentlemen seek native African masks to take back to civilization. Masks? For many years, this unworthy one created in great awe and admiration of the exquisite masks created by primitive people. Not me. I can't see what anyone sees them. But they're bringing a fortune in cartoom in the road. Well, as long as fools are paid though for them, I'll walk back a sack full. According to Robert here, they have turned out wholesale by those monotiki people. Monotiki? I would advise you to do your trading with some other tribe. No fiercer or more treacherous breed exists of monotiki. This humble one would not for a potentate's wealth relinquish the possibility of viewing their masks. A payoff's worth the risk according to the way I figure it. If you know anything of the Congo, Robert, you must realize the dangers of entering the monotiki crawl. I know it well, Tarzan. You have let my speech acquired through a college education mislead you. I am of the tribe of monotiki. Tarzan, I still can't understand why you insisted on joining them in their trek to the monotiki village. I am known as the lord of the jungle, Mr. Albright. If I can prevent even one casualty in the Congo, that title will have been partially earned. Well, with Robert, remember their own tribe in our party. We may be safer than otherwise. Perhaps. Now, tell me why you really came along. Tarzan, my youth is far behind me and I can't live forever. So if I can add a few unusual pictures to my collection, a few more exciting experiences to my memories, it's all that I ask. Do you think we could stop for a second? Certainly. We can catch up with the others. You want a picture of that white oaks? Right. I think I can pick him up with my telescopic lens. Which compartment of my bag did I put that lens in? Shall I hold your camera? I can just rest it on this tree trunk while I search. Must be under these packages of developer. I haven't used it since... Nakima! All right, grab your camera. You're making a B-line for it. Good work. I'm sorry, little playmate. You can't have Mr. Albright's camera, no matter how fascinating you find it. Your oaks is gone. Oh, well. I'll spot another one someday. What do you suppose Nakima has been? I'm foraging for food for his family, perhaps. He laid in the stock for them and now he's come to rejoin us. Yeah, I wish he could find a little food nice to eat, stomach could cope with. So far my digestion has been our only casualty. Oh, perhaps there's been another our friends have turned back. Yes, Robert? What's wrong? I thought something was wrong with you when we looked back and found you weren't behind it. Everything okay? I just stopped to take a picture, Mr. Vaughton. He gravely feared fate had robbed us of your esteemed company upon our journey. I don't know why, but I have a strange idea that none of you was enthusiastic about our joining this gathering. Once you assured me that you had no intention of dissuading us from our objective, I was most happy to welcome you as member of our humble group. What true love of art could deprive another of the joys to be derived from viewing the imaginative craftsmanship of the fetishure? Is the combination high priest, magistrate, and physician? The fetishure of one atiki is most skilled in the making of masks, and in translating the wishes of those effigies. He tells what the masks want to say. Have I got that straight? Many of the masks have religious significance. They are vested with unusual powers. The fetishure is the father of the religious masks. Others of the tribe was designed for the remaining two classifications, the warm masks, and those of the dance. Well, they're all the same to me. I don't mind who comes along, just so none of you try to chisel in on my racket. The only reason I hesitated at first was that I feel responsible for each additional member of the party. It is important now that we are nearing the village that we remain close together. The centuries of monotiki are deadly accurate with their blowguns. The poison of their dart brings instantaneous death. At least they let us enter the village. I can't say I like the way they're all watching us. Can they, from every doorway? Just keep walking. Can they not recognize Robert? We wouldn't have got this far without a struggle. Robert, what did that one geezer mean when he looked at you and said Roboko? It was my name before I left the village. And I am Robert now. You'd better stay on my shoulder then I came up. All right. Now that Chief is coming to greatest. Observe the beautiest masks outside their temple. Incredible beauty. Unbelievable skills. 50 to 100 bucks a piece on any market. And I can get them for a string of beads or a jackknife. Welcome to Village of Monotiki. Our greetings to you, Mighty Chief. And our thanks for permitting us to enter. You came with one of tribe. Roboko, your clothes fine. Look like a man of wealth. Do well in City of White Man. You come from behind Shadow. Santa, Mighty Chief. What why you bring others? These men are our friends. They're only interested in seeing our tribal masks. This unworthy one bows low before a great beauty of those that decorate outside of your temple. Yeah, that sure swells. Wait you see what is inside. I show you. Mask of Monotiki. Father or masks. Voice our destiny. Come. Ah, beautiful, great honor. Mighty leader of men. Peace. He's taking us all inside the temple. Isn't that pretty unusual? It is most unusual. The compliments concerning the masks, evidently pleased him very much. Nikima, you better stay outside. You're a load of a joy. It's splendor. Blindness is unworthy eyes. Well, Mr. Brights, you've realized at least one experience to add to your memories. You and I have never seen such a place. Hey, who's the ghost standing over there giving us a fisheye? He is the fetishurer. Moa Limorete M'kiu Monotiki. The chief is telling him to bring the mask of Monotiki. Wow. Look at that contraption they keep it in. Walls, they sink up anything on that. The fetishurer is the possessor of the only key to the tabernacle. He's opening it only because the chief told him to do so. Yeah, he should not look overjoyed, but holy cow, look at that thing. Solid gold. And enough jewels on it to retire on. Never has this humble one seen such rare artistry. The classmanship proclaims a heritage that could only have come from the Medici or Persians. To be able to take such a masterpiece to the museums of the world would be to attain immortality. Please, Mr. Albright, in one second you could turn them against us. I thought I could take a picture while no one was paying any attention to me. Come now, you are guests of tribe. Chief, provide him up for you. We're all to share a hut in the village? Apparently. As soon as this performance is over, the fetishor is putting the mask away. Talkative fellow, isn't it? He resents a strenuous look. You, man with hair like winter. Yes. Leave white man's magic in temple. What? He's telling you to leave your camera here. It would be well to do as he says. Oh, sure, sure. I just wish there were a little pixie around. Snap a few shots while it's here. I'd give my right arm for a picture and ask. You gotta admit this shack they give us ain't so bad. Oh, it's very, very late. I suggest we all attempt to sleep. Who knows what tomorrow may hold in store for us. Sure, surprise they give us the room of the place. You should see the mess I got already and I hardly started. And I have combed the village from one end to the other. I have filled every pore of my being with the ecstatic beauty of your office. You miss her all right. Oh, I've just been wandering around, Robert. Looking at everything and reaching my camera wasn't locked up inside. Hey, hey, what gives? The entire village seems to be coming here in the middle of the night. Now, voices are angry on your feet, man. We maybe don't leave him out. Look any bring great trouble to Kabila. What troubles have we brought to your tribe, mighty chief? The dead in temperate murder. Mask of Monotiki stolen. One of you. Dive of crime. Moment of killing. But that does not make any of us a murderer. Yeah, how about that, Tarzan? The better sure was killed with a gun. A weapon the Monotiki are unfamiliar with. So perhaps they are somewhat justified in limiting their suspects to the members of our party. They heard Mr. Tsau and Broughton admit they'd like to take the Mask of Monotiki with them, and now it's missing. Well, I sure ain't got it. But I got all the rest of the mess. I want my mission to get out of this joint. Even I am ready to leave. And the Mask of Monotiki is not in my unworthy possession. What in the world is that revolting, looking mess, ladling into those tiny Kalabash bull? A mixture of native vegetables and herbs has been combined with their witch doctors' medicines and his place to spell on it. All of us must wriggle it. Does this swallow that foul concoction? Why? Those of us who are pure and hot will experience only an unpleasant taste, but the murderer will reveal himself by the sickness of guilt. It is the belief deeply rooted in the Monotiki tribe. I drink Dawa roboko. I drink deeply mighty chi. See, I am pure. He probably drank buckets of this stuff during his youth, but I drink Dawa one at a time. I won't do nothing to him. He can take anything. He belongs to one of the mind-over-matic cults. I'll watch him. The taste is not unpleasant to my palate, mighty chi. Drink Dawa, Tarzan. I drink. One of Orta. Okay, bottoms up. Hey, I drunk worse than that in plenty of narrow-leaved bars. And our last of Wagenis. Hey, that's cheap. I've had a lot of trouble with my digestion. They would consider you refusal to swallow at a full confession drink. All right, here goes. Tarzan, I'm afraid I'm going to be very, very sick. What are you thinking of things now? All they have to do is pick up the mask on their way. Wherever one of them's got it hidden, then they're in the clear leaving me to pay for their crime. I'm going to pick up the mask first. Our search must start outside the temple here. If I can find any trail... Look! Under the steps leading into the temple. The mask of Monotiki. Smashed and battered almost beyond recognition. Here's Thornton's work. He's the brutal type. Thornton killed or secured a mask he could sell in Nairobi for a fortune and then ruin it and leave it here. Well, uh, so? A fanatic or worshipper of beauty destroy the mask? All right. I was unwilling to believe the results of their strange trial but the only one who could have spoiled that mask and still have this fondest wish is you. The mask could have been destroyed and quickly hidden after you'd taken the picture you said you'd give your right arm to get. Mask of Monotiki. Smashed and ruined. You too, man with hair like winter. Wait, Tarzan, did this thing to get a picture? Then where is it? So far as I know, my camera's still inside the temple. We go inside. Mon's magic. They kept it in the corner of the tabernacle beside the mask. Well, it's just as I left it. Tarzan, do you suppose I could take a picture of the tabernacle? My last picture? I suppose so, but I doubt you'll live long enough. Tarzan, it's been used. Someone's used my camera. With this model, you can't press the trigger after a picture's been taken until you roll the film ahead. Someone's taken a picture, I'm sure of it. Goodness knows when or what of. If it were taken last night, would the picture come out? Well, if those older torches were lit at the time and we leave the film and the developer long enough, we might see something. Could you develop the film here? I have all my supplies in that kit. Your life could depend on the results of your developing, Mr. Halblight. It's a wild idea, of course, but if the camera was tampered with, it might have happened around the time of the murder. It's barely possible that it might give us some sort of clue. Great Chief, do you understand what I've been getting at? No, do you. I give you one hour. Try Wakeman's magic. Pretty fuzzy. But it's sure to figure firing a gun at the fetisher. We have our proof. If we can recognize him from the print, I don't know. How soon we know who is Man? The printing is pretty slow, but another few seconds and we'll either know or realize we'll never know. In which case, I suppose I'll have to abide by the results of the trial. Please hurry up, Mr. Halblight. The others have already left camp by this time. I'm taking it out of the frame now. You look, I'm afraid to. Firing the gun. Roboco. Roboco not come from behind shadow. My father was executed. Because the fetisher said it was the will of the Mask of Molotiki. I, I, his son, left to crawl under his shadow. When years later, I met Mr. Titzel and bought him. I saw my opportunity to get revenge. Then blame it on one of them. Well, you're coming along. Made it easier, I thought. You not know of Wakeman's magic. I know of the Wakeman's camera. And I still don't know who took this picture. That's something I hadn't thought of. Tarzan, you once said you wished that there were a pixie inside the temple to use your camera while I was there. Well, apparently you got your wish. The only way I can figure it, Robert opened the door to the temple and the pixie slipped in. And when Robert forced open the front of the tabernacle and removed the mask, the pixie found something inside the tabernacle that was even more fascinating to him than the mask was to Robert. And when the fetisher surprised the intruder as he was escaping and was killed as a result, the pixie chose that moment to use the camera as he'd seen you. Mr., Mr. Merck, let's go with my camera. Mr. Albright, I do not believe in spoiling mischievous children, even when they're grown children with families of their own, but I sincerely believe you should give the camera to Nakima as an award for finding the murderer and saving your life.