 Tarzan of the eights, from the novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs, with Mr. James H. Pierce as Tarzan and Mr. Ann Burroughs as Jane Porter. Jane Porter saves Targ, one of the great apes, from Hista's deadly coils by killing the snake with her revolver. The sound of the shot carries to her father and his party at the cannibal trial, where they have convinced the cannibals that they're great medicine men. Believing that the shot signals the return of the cruiser, the white party induces the witch doctor to take them to the temple cave. From there, they feel that they can escape to join the cruiser. Now, are you ready? Hold your breath. Almost. Celebrate. Yes, of course, Clayton. These blacks are so absolutely sure that we will be able to return this lost spirit to the mummy, which of course they believe will bring rain, that will look about, see the fitiable condition they are in as a result of drought. Yes, but don't forget, the more they think of us now, the worse our position will be when they discover the fraud, and discover it, they will. Why should they, Valentin? Why? Because we won't be able to bring the rain to one thing. For another, that witch doctor is not going to give up his supremacy without some effort to discredit us. Well, I wasn't in sympathy with the scheme at first, but now I think the witch doctor is so completely out of it that I have some hope. Why, by the way, why don't we start to the key? Where is Download? He's getting ready, talking to the witch doctor when I left him. You know, I think it's rather peculiar that we haven't heard any more shots. I mean, I thought at first that they might have been fired as a signal. On the other hand, Clayton, it's quite possible that another safari is in the neighborhood. I don't think that's likely. I've never heard of a white man exploring this particular part of Africa. It's so very inaccessible. What about big game hunters? Impossible, but hardly probable. When we know that big game can be found in other sections, much easier to reach. Yeah, come, Monsieur. All is ready. We can proceed on our way. We haven't used your right. Act the hot, and do not mention it. I had quite an argument with the witch doctor. He says that if we are as good as we claim, we do not need the white man's guns. I was suspicious of that witch doctor. He had a very nasty look in his eyes. Well, the only thing to do, Monsieur, is to go on, and hope that some better situation presents itself. I shall suggest, however, that you each hide your revolvers, so that if the witch doctor insists upon taking the rifles, he may not think of the smaller arms. We should have killed that blighter when we had the chance. Perhaps, Monsieur is right, but come. We are ready. Charles, have you any idea as to how far this cave might be? Far as exact to, Monsieur le professeur, not exactly, but it cannot be far. The natives go and come quite frequently. And also, the natives do not enter the cave. It is taboo. At least that's something to be thankful for. I hate the very sight of. Really, it's quite amazing how one steps out of the clearing about the crawls, and steps as it were, right into virgin jungle. As a witch doctor is certainly keeping his eye on us, he watches our every move, and almost listens as though he understood what we were seeing. But perhaps he does. Not the words, Monsieur, but the thoughts. If I may offer my advice, I should say as little talking as possible. Back on the platform in the trees, Jane and Tarzan watch the jungle awaken to a new day. The night mist still hangs in shadowy festoons about the treetops. The animal trails, black gashers in the forest by night, are now alive with the scurrying, adding, shuffling noise of pieces. The jungle brook make their way to the waterfall. Distant mingled roars rend the forest hollowness as Numa and his lion pack clear a pathway to the foals. Another jungle day, my skin. All pretty much alike. Something gets killed, or just escaped and killed. Numa, Thébor, sheet are hungry. Kill, eat. Of course, that's nature. They have to kill something when they're hungry. But what I don't like is the idea that I and a Sunday provide a meal just near dinner for Numa or some of his companions. Jane got gunned. Kill Numa. Thébor. No, White Skin. A revolver is not of much use against Numa or any other really big beast. With the mention of the gun, Tarzan is reminded that his supply of arrows is low. He points to the almost empty quiver. White Skin, go. Black Village. Get arrows. Come back quick. This time, Jane, go too. Jane, no, go. Black Village. Jane, frightened. Black man, eat. I don't doubt I'll be frightened. But I'm not going to be left alone this time. If father is there, no, no, White Skin, Jane, go. That quality which brooks no refusal is apparent in Jane's voice. And so Tarzan, with a gesture of resignation, picks Jane up in his arms and starts off into the upper jungle terrace. Although Tarzan's graceful swings and death-catchers are leisurely, Jane feels herself being born along at breathtaking speed. Through the occasional sparseness of the treetops comes the darting rays of propic sunlight, the cloudless blue of azure skies. The never-ending chatter of monkeys, the ceaseless chirping of birds and the intermittent howls of the larger beasts are almost commonplace to Jane. And it is with a shock that the girl realizes it. Before, when she had allowed herself to think, her wishes had been fathered to the thought that each day would bring rescue. Now, she's almost accepting the inevitable. She feels her heart beat faster. She grows almost tannicky. Much as she likes White Skin to think of ending her days in this vicious, terror-ridden jungle, the thought almost overcomes her. She feels herself being gently shaken, opens her eyes and looks below. There is the cannibal village and a file of blacks disappearing into the jungle. Tarzan lowers Jane to a broad branch. Jane's day. White Skin goes below. No. Jane goes below, too. Without a word, Tarzan again takes Jane in his arms and with noiseless, effortless ease, carries her to the ground. Jane looks about, finds herself within the stockade of thorn and bamboo. The place is deserted. Quiet. Too quiet for comfort. Oh, black man, he go. Go away. Yes, let's look around. I wonder, I wonder what's in here. Yes, White Skin, we'll have to bend down and get into this hut. Oh, my White Skin! Look! Daddy's knapsack and some of it is a knapsack thing. And then there's those target cells. Father? Yes? Father, no kill. What do you mean? How do you know? Black man kill, father. Black man take all these. Yes. And then maybe instead of a hut, I'm going to look. White Skin, go get arrows. Jane going many huts. Tarzan makes for the chief's hut where he knows he will find a plentiful supply of arrows. Jane goes from hut to hut, finding nothing until she comes to the one in which the arms are piled. She takes another revolver from the heap of arms and continues her search. Now only one hut remains. She's almost despaired of finding her further trace of her father and she bends down to enter the last hut. A warning feeling of danger stops her. She steps back but too late. A black arm shoots out, it trips her about the neck. She struggles and tries to cry out. The black pulls the girl into the hut. Jane kicks out with her foot. There's a howl of agony. The sangly grip relaxes. She screams and... Meanwhile, Professor Porter and the party have reached the cave which the natives call their temple. Not very inviting, is it? No, no, Satan. Like the councilor, like the mission house, I want them to get into the cave. Unless you jump through that college screen of something water and do one slip. Down into that boiling, chipped, seething water. Of course, we can't help. There may be a lake just behind the waterfall. All we would get would be a good soaking. Well, Mr. Witch Doctor... Going right ahead. And I think I once said that what that black blighter can do, token up. He looks very much as if you will write her in your surmise. The Witch Doctor jumps right into it and through it. Then here I go. Come, Mr. Professor, must you fill on there? I'm too old for this sort of strange little thing. Oh, come on now. It's quite a short jump. Come on! Quite a place. And incidentally, flooded with lava. And yes, and I don't care how quickly we get out of it. I don't think we'll climb down here. No, no, Mr. Of course not. But the Witch Doctor is so insistant that we come here. They don't know enough to precipitate anything. I thought we had better hope that. Of course, of course. And in fact, now that we know that the natives will not come in here, I think it's very necessary that if we arrive at some sort of indefinite agreement with this Witch Doctor. Well, where is it? I can't see a blessing thing. Except that the roof of this place seems to be a mile high. I myself cannot see any too well either. But people, the Witch Doctor was standing by me just a moment ago. Just a moment. I'll strike a light. I have, at least I think I have, a bunch of matches. Here they are. Now, what a huge place. Here, Philando, hold it like close to this door beside me. Isn't this strange? That's it, Philando. Another match. All right, all right. Look here. Run your hand over this design. So to see, you can follow the outline with your hands. Evidences of an ancient people. Another match, Philando. Yes, yes, yes. Here it is. The design is influenced by the Egyptians. And so what's the meaning? Evidence of more than that. So there's a what Clayton? The Witch Doctor. And disappeared. But that's impossible, Clayton. I've been standing here all the time. He couldn't get out without passing me. Well, he's not here. There must be some other way out. Must your Clayton is right. It is one thing to jump down six or seven feet into a cabin. It is something else to try to jump out. You think you mean that we are in a trap, exactly, professor? And like a bunch of children, we not only walked into it, we jumped in. Can Tarzan reach Jane in time? And what of the professor in his party? Can they get out of the trap laid by the crafty witch doctor? This is enough.