 Tarzan of the eight brought to you from out the pages of Edgar Rice Burroughs exciting book Then we must be quite close move up front perhaps we can see yes, I'm sure it is very strange strange See the gate The gate to the stockade it is open the blacks must have heard this approaching So light what next time? I will go forward and 11 no no no lieutenant U�. We can't have that that too risky down but it is very necessary The place it does not seem much, you're sorry It is not reasonable that these people's would go off into the jungle at least the gates open Well can't we take that indication that they've let it all approach you know monsieur I would not and in any case that would mean that all our efforts where Western is there gone They're taking Jane with the best, and even if they had fled because of us, they would surely have closed the gates behind them. But they're not susceptible, Monsieur. That is why I suspect a trap. And because you suspect a trap, we have to stand idly by while you deliberately walk into it. But I do not propose to walk into it. I am going to take a few of my men and encircle the stockade and see if perhaps there is not some explanation of the thing. We will be gone for a few moments, and we may save ourselves endless trouble. Our will provided you don't go inside those gates alone. No, no, no, Monsieur. We will all enter together. I do not propose to spit the party in any way. Comets au fond! Let us encircle the defenses and see what it is that we have. You know, sometimes I can't make Daniel out. He's very cautious, which is but right. He has those sailors under his command. As it's natural, he's very careful that no unnecessary danger befalls him. I wasn't thinking about that so much. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about some of the references he made regarding black magic. What in particular about black magic, Clayton? Nothing. Only how can a civilized man, an officer in the Navy, really regard such things as actual facts? You remember what he said, Clayton? When you have been in Africa as long as he has, then speak to him about what you believe and what you don't believe. Even if I lived in Africa all my life, I would still look for the practical explanation, and not for a stupid assumption that depends upon which doctors in the supernatural. All of these things are dependent upon circumstances. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Something may happen that will cause you to think. You think, and think, and think, and think. And the human mind demanding a satisfactory answer falls back on. It might be possible. I realize that. But on the other hand, there's an undeniable inclination on the part of travelers to lay everything they don't understand themselves to black magic. Who do with them, or necromancy? Even in some instances, too cannibalism. But Clayton, there is undeniable evidence of cannibalism even today. Then I don't deny. But I've heard men supposedly telling the truth, going to exaggerated details about cannibalistic rights. When in all probability, the cannibals were just plain hungry. Monsieur. Monsieur. We've found nothing, not a sign of life, not a sign. The place, except for some rather grisly prophecies, is deserted. Then we advance. Much as I dislike putting, perhaps as Monsieur has before said, our heads into the lion's mouth, there is no alternative. Look, they can't have been gone long. There's a fire still burning in the center of the compound. And in the middle of these more or less flimsy houses is a stronger one. Possibly a prison. Oh, come on. No, no, no, not too much haste, Monsieur. In this case, it is better to proceed as if one were walking on eggs. Back in the jungle, Tarzan swings his way through the leafy pathway of the upper terrace. He is disposed of his duties to the ape tribe for the day, and now his thoughts are of Jane, waiting for him on the little platform in the trees. Tarzan does not quite understand the feeling of exhilaration he experiences when he thinks of this white she. Except for the tenderness for Kayla, his ape foster mother. Tarzan knows nothing of human affection. Nothing until this girl came into his life, bringing with her this strange emotion which defies analysis. The ape man drops carefully without effort, hand over hand, down a sturdy vine to the lower terrace. He reaches the familiar branches of the tree that to him is as much a home as he has ever known. Jane, Jane! There is no answering call from the leafy alcove. Tarzan brushes aside the leaves, looks into the cool shaded depths of the bower. Empty! He glances sharply about, sees the bent and broken branches where Jane has crammed down the trunk of the tree. No signs of any animal. That means that she went of her own free will. Suddenly, he hears the excited chattering of Gazan, the small ape that swings its way through the tree. Harando, Luan, Harman, Ganny? The little ape dances up and down on the platform as it tells Tarzan that the white hairless she ape is out in the jungle. Dacka! Shook! Up and down! Tarzan tells Gazan to leap the way as the two swing into the jungle path. Pastas is the ape Tarzan is faster. From one bending swaying branch to the next, from one hanging vine to another, they speed toward the sea. Gazan drops to the lower branches, Tarzan follows them. Now they come to a more open space and they're looking about while listening for some sound that will lead her to her father in the third party. Disgrace. Jane. Jane? Oh, White Skin, I heard, I'm sure I heard Daddy. And move it for the youth. You don't understand me. Tarzan drops to the jungle floor. Instinctively, he draws the girl toward him. Jane. Jane! Come back! Come back! But White Skin, I want to go to Daddy! Daddy, I know I heard them. Oh dear, I keep forgetting that you don't understand me. Jane, go this way. Jane points in the direction from which she lost her voices. Tarzan looks puzzled. Jane is trying to tell him something. He looks at her. She stands listening. Again Tarzan looks inquiringly at Jane. She shakes her head. The eight-man frowns. If only he had some way, if only he could convince her of the danger she has been in. Quickly, Tarzan turns over in his mind all the words he's learned. He waves in expressive arms, though to include the entire jungle. Numa! Levor! Shita! Hista! Bion! Le- Leopard! Many, many! Kill! Jane! Where first did I know but I heard voices. Jane remembers that Tarzan understands the word talk. She points into the dense thicket. Talk! Talk! Talk! Jane, go quick! Talk! Talk! This time Tarzan understands and, mostening Jane to be still, he cups his hand to his ears and listens intently. Nothing breaks the silence but the swish, swish of jungle beasts brushing through the grasses. The crackle of broken twigs is some heavy-footed brute pats along the trail. Then Tarzan turns to Jane. No! Talk! Talk! Jane, come back quick! Tarzan takes Jane by the hand and leads her to the jungle path which winds back toward the platform in the tree. Talk! Talk! Talk! Meanwhile, Clayton, Philander, Porter and Darno have entered the cannibal crawls where they hope to find Jane. Not a blooming thing. Not a trace of life. Very ominous. It's silence. I almost agree with Clayton that some sound anything even being shot at would be better. Also unusual, Monsieur. So very different from what one usually expects to find in cannibal crimes. Well, I'm going inside this hut. What is it? What is it, Clayton? Nothing much. Apparently a storehouse. A storehouse. Let me see. Ah! A collection of cows. We, Monsieur, and those on these spearheads are the very latest victims. And so I gathered you, tenant. Very interesting. Ah! Mm-hmm. That is why I am examining them so minutely, Philander. Ah! They are all Aboriginal. Thank him. Then Jane is probably almost utterly still alive. Yes, Philander. I myself am greatly relieved. Then let's go to the next hut. That one there. Looks as if it might be the chief. That is the witch doctor. See? See? The leopard skin. And that hideous mask hanging before it. It is taboo. Listen. Listen. Don't you hear something? But where are they? This is getting on my nerves. Why don't they show themselves? Come out in the open. Look! Everybody! Watch this! What's Monsieur Clayton? The stockade gates. There! Closed!