 Far as Randall of the apes brought to you from out the pages of Edgar Riceburrow's gripping book If you must roar, Clayton visualizes porter in Philander attacks bleeding perhaps dead He rushes headlong into the jungle stumbling stripping crashing through the thorn and bush He plunges deeper presses farther, smashes onward He comes to a jungle trail that leads to the waterhole He stops, glances up the trail, sears into the tangled mass of vines that is the jungle listening The distant roar comes from beyond the matted wall Heedless of piercing tearing thorns, he plunges straight ahead Again he stops, he strains his ears, glistening for that cry he dreads to hear For the past moments it seems like centuries there's been no outcry from porter in Philander A horrible, strangling fear drips him What if he should be too late? The thought hurls him forward Desperation lends the speed of frenzy to his feet Meanwhile back at the hut, Jane Porter anxiously staring through the lattice bars of the window sees her father and Philander approaching the hut Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane Did you see him? Drink my toast Thank you, Daddy Oh, my God I've been nearly targets with worries Where's De clashe important to you, Jane? Did you go out? Well, we went out after you we read the hut, we heard the lion roar that we heard two commons and지efson took a rifle and shot it out after you It had very strange that we didn't meet you But they had to be here amazing thing, my dear. Her Philander here interrupted my discourse to tell me that a lion... Yes, sir! But a lion! Did he need... We were walking along. When the lion growled, I turned and saw him following us. I immediately urged the new our father the necessity of speedily removing ourselves from its immediate vicinity and made up most undignified spectacle of Northfield, Philander. And my dear, I was myself forced to accelerate my locomotion in order to complete my discourse here, Professor Porter. You mean to say I'm there again? Oh, never mind all that. If Russell didn't get the lion, how did you escape? Well, as I was saying, when Philander interrupted me, I ran to catch up with him when suddenly something picked me up from the ground and I found myself in a most undignified position, hanging precariously to the limb of a tree. I have, of course, retained complete control of all my faculties. Yes, yes. What did you say, Philander? Nothing, go on, go on. Yes, I will. I looked back, dear, and to my utter amazement saw Philander likewise clinging to a somewhat higher branch. I did not have complete control of my faculties, and I admit that I stumbled and fell. But the same godlike creature who rescued your father from certain death also hauled me to safety. But who was he? What was he like? What did he say? Well, why, why, now that you mention it, dear, he didn't say anything. And I'm not sure that I can adequately and accurately describe him. He's a splendid proportion, the, I might say, the living embodiment of a Greek statue. And, and while I am not a large man here, it's safe much for his physical prowess that he lifted me as I might lift a baby in arms. Well, well, I mean, why, black? Oh, dear, couldn't you tell? He's clean of feature. And as you will understand, I did not, under the stress of existing circumstance, examine him with a scientific attitude. I feel, nevertheless, that he is of the higher order. Yes, yes, yes. When Philander first saw the lion and started running... Oh, my daddy, I can't think of a better thing to do than to run from a lion. You hear, Professor Archimedes, you quarter? Are you still trying to claim that you were only running away from that brute in order to continue talking to me? I mean, Philander was running, as I said, my dear. You're accusing me of cowardice? Professor, the time has arrived when patience becomes a crime, and mayhem appears garbed in the mantle of virtue. Oh, Mr. Philander, please. Mr. Philander, you forget yourself. I forget nothing, Professor Archimedes, you quarter? But believe me, sir, I'm cuddling on the word to forgetfulness after your exalted position in the world of science and your gray hair. Ah, see here, Mr. Philander, if you're looking for a scrap, peel off your coat and come out behind the hut, and I'll punch your head, just as I did 16 years ago in the alley back of Pocky Evans Barn. Bless my soul. Why, Arch? Arch, how good that sounds. When you're human, Arch, I love you. But somehow, it seems as though you'd forgotten how to be human in the last 20 years. Well, thank heaven. Maybe you two can stop your speaking for a little while now. Here I am, trying to find out about this, this, this, well, whatever it was that came to your mind. Yes, yes, yes, my love, the most remiss of me. My fault, James. I lost my temper. Well, now, now, don't you get into another argument as to whose fault it was. Oh, dear, well, what's coming to happen to this fellow? Why does he do that? He's so standing up, arguing, we should be out looking for him. Ah, yes, yes, you're quite right. Quite right, my dear, quite right. I will start now and conduct a search with the utmost diligence. But you were just lost in the jungle yourself. How can you expect to find your way? I forgot to mention, dear, that this thing I can think of no suitable word other than gentleman. Yes, this same gentleman who rescued us from the lion led us back to within sight of the hut. Then, then he must be Tarzan of the ape. Eh, eh, what's that, my dear? He led you back here. He must be the one who left the notice on the door of the hut. How stupid of me. Of course, that is the solution. Well, yes, yes, yes, yes, it's pretty spice later. But what about Clinton? Really, Professor, why don't all like the idea of leaving Jane here unprotected in case some of the mutineers should return? Oh, I forgot to tell you, the ship has gone. Well, what's gone? The ship gone, did you say? Gone, vanished. Come here, look what you've said. Dear, dear, you've missed me, and the ship has gone. With the treasure, dear, dear me, the lost of science in general and archaeology in particular will be the most regrettable, the most unfortunate, absolutely irreparable. Well, I was one, I'm glad to be rid of the ship and those terrible men. Of course, with those hierarchical villains in charge of the ship, the situation was decidedly uncomfortable. One could never be quite sure in one's mind as to what their next action would be. But no, no, no, dear, the loss of the ship is not nearly such a catastrophe as the loss of the treasure. But Professor, without a ship, how could we have removed the treasure? One thing at a time, one thing at a time, Phil Lander, how often must I tell you that concentration of the mental faculty? Oh, I thought you would pick up the revolver, sorry. No, no, no, no, Clayton might be unnecessarily alarmed, my love. Your previous suggestion that we search for him has my hearty approval. Now, where are those rifles, eh? Ah, here's one. Yes, and if you will take that other rifle, Phil Lander. All right, all right. And be careful you do not shoot yourself. Oh, nothing. I, I will arm myself with this gun, at least it seems to be loaded. Be careful, Professor. Yes, be careful. Tarzan from the lofty branches of a northern twisted tree watches Clayton utterly exhausted his sense of direction gone thrashing about in the tangled maze of underbrush. Jury also be outweighs the ape man's feeling of contempt for this stranger who violates all the laws of jungle prudence. Never before has Tarzan seen anything not even tantal the elephant deliberately chase a lion. He shakes his head. Had it been earlier in the morning or later in the evening, the man surely would have fallen prey to the lightning-like stroke of new mother lion or the death-dealing lunge of sheet of the leopard. Clayton leans his rifle against the ball of a tree, not so forward and glances at all him. The impenetrable walls of tree-on violence scrub him in securely in the tiny clearing. In his anxiety the rescue porter and philandery is blundered, broken and thrust his way in, and now he's hopelessly lost. There's a crackling of brush behind him. He whirls. He's nothing. But Tarzan has caught a glimpse of sheet of the leopard. He hears the soft bending grasp, a silky pad of beast. He glances back at Clayton. He wonders why the young white man's not warned. Can it be that he's failed to hear? Never before has Tarzan known she did to be so clumsy, so careless in his stalking. A ripple passes under the softened silk machine of the leopard's coat. The muscles, strong as steel, perhaps tight and dense. Seven Tarzan watches. She does ears flatten, tails straighten. The tip of the milk tail twitches. The twitch that signalizes the charge. Tarzan's call of warning spits the flattening silence to the jungles. She departs with motionless. The beautiful glare dyes from sheet of eyes. Gives way to a disappear. The standing hairs ridged down the leopard's spine. The flattening deal twitches and petrified with a mean good call for fear and anger. She has healed between legs. Slings off into the jungle.