 Tarzan of the Apes, a character of Edgar Rice Burrow's famous book. In reality, is the son of a titled English couple, Lord and Lady Greystone, who were put ashore by a mutinous crew in the jungles of West Africa. The maroon couple were left with tools and firearms, and Tarzan's mother and father built the little hut in which Tarzan is born a year afterward. It's the night of their little son's first birthday. Lord and Lady Greystone are sitting in their rude but strongly built home. Around them lies the jungle, dark, mysterious, teaming with great sinister shapes, mocking with dreadful quiet through the night. The roar of the lion tells that the mighty monarch of the forest has made his kill, and from farther away can be heard the hideous laughing cry of the hyenas, echoing the lion's wondrous roar. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees outside, both are startled. What's that, John? Yeah, yeah, I heard it too. Oh, it's only the wind and the trees there. It gave me rather a start. It did me too for a moment, silly as though, Father. Nothing short of a herd of elephants, the faucets were in here. I can test a bit of pride. This place is built like a vault. Oh, John, I know we're safe enough, but sometimes I don't think I can stand it a moment longer. It's the night they're dreadful. There, that's what I mean. All night long, the jungle seems to threaten us. And those hyenas, oh, that hideous cry of theirs. It's like the laugh of a maniac. They seem to be jeering at us. Well, though, someday, someday... Oh, Alice, get hold of yourself. You can't let go this way. You'll go mad. You have to hold tight, dear, for him. For him? Oh, he's a year old today, John. Yes, a year old, and a sound as a nut. Sleeps through gunshots and everything. He's a darling, isn't he, John? I'm the picture of you. Do nothing of a sort. He looks exactly like you. Oh, yes, he does, dear. Why, he has your eyes and that sweet little smile of his. Why, that's exactly like you, dear. Oh! Can't you see, dear? I'll put the beggar through the ladder. Perhaps if I can get a bead on the beggar through here. All right, dear, dear. Don't get your feet too close to me. The beggar, he makes tight moves. There, there, he's through here. He's a big brute. Look, look, look, look. And we'll have a lion skin wrapped for baby-hins. He's hungry to come up this way. Oh, he died. It's terrible. Oh, those horrible teeth. Then I wait for my arm. Oh, and put that one right down his throat. Another one will settle him. It's all over, dear. Oh, why, he's scared of the dawn now. You don't be frightened. Oh, dear, I'm sorry to go to pieces this way. Really, I am, but you know, the last few days, I've had a terrible premonition that something would happen. It's all silly, I know, but oh, I can't escape this dreadful feeling. You're just nervous, that's all. Why, any day now, we'll wake up and find a boat in the bay. And you and I, on the little chap there, will go sailing back to England. It's been two years now, and there's been no boat. Two terrible years, John. Why, Elizabeth, I can't understand this, and you at all. Oh, fuck up, my girl. Don't let it get you this way. Oh, I'm sorry, John. It's like a terrible threat hanging over. Listen to the jungle now. Why, there isn't a sound. Oh, that shop quieted them for a little while, but the silences are the worst of all. The silence means that something awful and dreadful is passing through the jungle. No silence and broken joints, a panther. Oh, John, I hate to show the white feather like this, and I shall do it again. Now, there, that's a promise. White feather, oh, why, rot. You've been marvellous, Alan. This infernal jungle is bound to get you once in a while. Come on, kiss me, and forget me. Gladly, sir. One of our neighbors is that. A boy hates I hate worst of all. They're so human, but yet so far from human. Those long, powerful arms, they're awkward gates and the terrific speed in which they swing and leap from branch to branch. They are nasty beggars. That one you shot yesterday. Oh, those nasty, close-set eyes and yellow fangs. Come on, now, oh, forget you. Again, the cry of a huge bull ape, a brutish creature of terrible strength and awful temper. The ape has suddenly gone mad, raging, foaming mad with that peculiar madness which suddenly seizes bull apes and quickly passes. He's running rampant among these people. The younger and lighter ray just scampering to the highest branches. Kayla, a young female, comes into the clearing and Baby is singing to her neck. She doesn't know. She doesn't know that bull apes gone in and one of these terrible rages. So at sight of the other's young horse, sight of warning, he's going down on her. She leaps from branch to branch. He has her by the ankle. She breaks loose up to the tree. She goes all out behind her. She leaps publicly to another tree. She makes them. The drama pairs her Baby's grip loose from her mother's neck. He falls, falls to the ground with a thud. All that roaring goes fainter, fainter as he hurls his powerful body through the trees. That bull ape is certainly doing a lot of boasting tonight. He sounds very close, John. Oh, he's miles away. Those bull apes have tremendous lung power. This is John. John, it's getting a little cold. I think that we'd better build a small fire. Maybe sneeze this morning. All right. I want to go out and drag that lion into the shed anyway before the hyenas get into the skin. John, have you noticed how deathly still the jungle has suddenly become? Oh, just along. Where's the axe? Over there in the corner. Just a few sticks will do, John. Just enough to keep the chill off. Righto. Be back in a second. Aren't you going to take your rifle? Oh, hardly needed. I was going out to the shed. I'll leave the door open. The light will keep any animals away. All right. You know, every time I open the latch on this door, I'm impressed with myself. Well, it's quite an invention, Alice. Yes, dear. I have admired it before. Now, run along and get the wood. Yes, all right, dear. The sound of Grey Stoke's axe echoes through the strangely silent jungle. Grey Stoke doesn't notice the fearful senseness of the silence. The jungle is cringing, cringing away from a monstrous shadow which moves ominously through the hushed and fearful night. A huge ape comes to the clearing. It is all at the crazed derelict of the jungle. He halts his insane bloodshot eyes at sight of the unsuspecting Grey Stoke. They dream hatred from beneath his shaggy brows. He pairs his fangs as though in a horrid snarl, but no sound comes from his great throat. Slowly, noiselessly, the 350 pounds of stifled rage moves across the clearing. Bold upright, his mighty arms dangling lucid aside. A shadow falls across the log which Grey Stoke is chopping. He looks up into the fiercely snarling face of the brook. Oh! The ape makes a lung at Grey Stoke. Oh! He closed the door. Grey Stoke raises his axe, brings it down with the ripping force. The ape cuts the axe to the terrible hand and cleans it from him. With bare fangs, he leaps at Grey Stoke.