 Tarzan and the Diamond of Arshere! Tarzan is in charge of an expedition organized to search for the lost scientist Brian Gregory. The party consists of young Gregory's father and a sister, Helen, Magra, a mysterious Eurasian woman, and Wolf and Larsen, two hunters. Seeking adventure with Tarzan is his old friend, Lieutenant Darnell. Aton Tome and his Confederate task, because of a remarkable resemblance, believe Tarzan to be Brian Gregory, and that he has a map showing the location of the forbidden city of Arshere, where is hidden an enormous gem known as the Father of Diamonds. Aton Tome and Larsen are following the Gregory party. During their first night in camp, a native runs amok and Tarzan subdues him, then swings off into the trees to return, clad only in a leopard skin. He overhears Wolf threatening Magra and drops to the jungle floor behind the German. Wolf whirls, his hands speak to the gun that he's hit them. But you're too slow. Mine got cool. Don't break my arm. Why did you try to shoot me? Well, I thought you was going to kill me. Tarzan! Tarzan! Yes, Darnell. It's all right. Listen, Wolf, I'm not going to tell the others the truth about this, but don't try it again. You, Wolf, perhaps you've been doing here. Well, we thought you had gone to bed. I... I... I... I... I just... Wolf's eyesight isn't as good as it might be. Oh, Lieutenant Darnell, what is the matter? Nothing, Miss Helen. In the dark, Wolf mistook me for shitter. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's right. I... I heard that leopard, and I came out here and... Well, Tarzan, told you of my error. To err is human, Wolf. To forgive? Divine. Yes, sure. Petainer better than that. We'll be on the trail at sunrise and you people must get some sleep above the jungle chorus of the night and beneath the winking stars comes the faint far off call of Numa as he settles upon his kill. The jungle stands throbbing under the soft velvet sky a thousand weird mystic voices floating out on the night. The camp is wrapped in deep slumber all accepting Donald the Frenchman tosses wakefully upon his cut. I cannot sleep. It's the matter Donald. I cannot sleep and the fault it is yours. My fault? Yes that was a pretty story you told us about Wolf mistaking you for an animal. I saw him rubbing his arm as though I pained him I saw you pick up his gun and give it to him. Why did you shield him? You know why we agreed to take Agra with us? Because of our connection with our town Tom. And so we could watch her. Remember the note you got on the boat the other night and lost? Of course. But how does that concern Wolf? You didn't lose that note. Wolf stole it. I might have thought of that but how could he... Now decide the point. When I went to find Margaret tonight you know I went through the trees toward the edge of camp. I found her just inside the Boma talking to Wolf. And so? I heard him threaten to expose her to Tom unless she does as Wolf says. When I dropped to the ground behind him he tried to shoot me. Yeah and I can guess what followed. You took his gun away and made his trying to kill you look like an accident. But why? I am certain now that Wolf was working with Tom. I want him with us for the same reason we agreed to take Margaret. To watch him. Agree? Allure? And Wolf accused Margaret of writing that note you got she didn't deny. She knew it would have been useless. I'm not sure of Margaret. She appears to be under Tom's orders yet she warns us against Wolf. What do you think? Me? I do not know what to think. To me, Margaret is a mystery. She is a beautiful woman and beautiful women are usually dangerous. Helen Gregory is very beautiful. Me? Me? That is entirely a different matter. Yes. Yes of course. Well go to sleep, Dono. You'll know all about Wolf, Tom and Margaret sometime. Good night. Good night. Good night. Back along the dock reaches of the Congo River and far from the camp of Tarzan, the little riverboat carrying Atan, Tom and Laotos to Bunga in the wake of the Gregory party churns its way slowly sluggish waters of the Great River. On the afterdeck, their cigarette ends alternately glowing and fading in the darkness. Tom and Laotos are seated in deck chairs quietly smoking. That's better sound than they. The lions appear to be always hungry. Or where things in the jungle are hungry, Laotos, especially at night it's their hour to hunt. It is not always the wild things of the jungle, master, who hunts. You mean? We, you and I, stop Brian Gregory to find two in Baka, a share, father of diamonds. Once you spoke of a weird legend in connection with the gem. A fabric woven with threads of superstition. Nevertheless, it is a queer story. Some of it is quite plausible, most of it beyond the possibility of reason. Where did you hear the tale? I read it in Brian Gregory's diary. The story, as told to him by M'Kumbol, a Horser with Doctor, whom he befriended, was brought down to this country centuries ago by a band of Egyptian sun worshippers. And the diamonds? These people, Hesseherians they call themselves, are said to have in their possession an enormous gem known as the father of diamonds. This stone contains allegedly a strange power, the control of which is known only to the Hesseherian rulers and their priests. A power? I don't understand. A power to hold those who touch the diamond itself in a mummy-like state of suspended animation. By the Lord Buddha. Which may be overcome as the story goes only through the performance of a certain ritualistic ceremony. And you wish to possess this stone of evil, do you not fear its influence, master? You are a true Oriental Laltaske, steeped in superstition from birth. If the city of Arshel actually exists, we will probably find it to be merely a secret shrine surrounded by a band of ignorant natives living in mud huts. Whoever originated this fanciful tale takes away the curious. And yet, I feel that evil will befall us in our search for this devil's stone. If the legendary gem is only one half the size it is said to be, we shall one day be rich. But this evil power, it is said to contain... The story manufactured out of whole cloth, superstition I tell you, does not impress me. No, Laltaske, if the diamond exists and we find it, I shall take it. A slight puff of wind sprays the morning haze, lace edged with the dawn light, and twines it into symbols of mystery. As the Gregory expedition headed by Larson takes the day's trek into the jungle. And close behind Larson are Helen, her father, and the Magra. Bringing up the rear of the long, slow-moving column of bearers is Wolf. Near the center of the file, Tarzan and Darno continue their discussions the night before. Is it not surprising when Amieh Accordial Wolf is this morning? Not to me. He's like all the termagani of his type. He hides his true thoughts behind a mask of good humor. But he must realize that some of us know you covered up his mistake of last night? He does. He is also clever enough to conceal it. Back there at the end of the column, he will have plenty of time to grumble to himself and perhaps plan. Plan? How do you mean? Oh, c'est pas. But rest assured, mon vieux, we have not heard the last of his ill-nature. Nothing to worry about. Bien. Here's with us. Do you know why? Tom must be the answer to that. Certainement. But why has Tom placed him in our safari, or bribed him, which we may assume he did, once he was hired by Mr. Gregory? I wish I could answer that. Ah, ça c'est bien simple. Tom believes you to be Prime Gregory. He thinks you have a map showing the location of this so-called Forbidden City of Archer. Alors? Wolf after the map? Is that what you mean? That would seem to be the logical answer, Nisbha. We are almost positive that is the reason for Magra's being with us. As far as Wolf's concerned, perhaps you're right. But Magra? I'm not so sure. Why did she warn you against Wolf? Why did she entice you into that hotel room in Luongo? I tell you, Tarzan, I can't... No, you tell it, Tarzan. Oh, why are you so very serious? Don't you look as though the question of life and death itself rests on your shoulders. What's the secret? Oh, there is no secret, Mme. Tarzan and I were merely discussing the object of our expedition, the possibility of finding your brother or trace of him on the... The map, what you have, Miss Ellen. The map? Oh, yes. I only hope it's somewhere near archer. Have you spoken to anyone about it, shown it to anyone other than Darno and me? I know. I hadn't thought it necessary. I suggest you say nothing about it to anyone. But with you, on your person. Is it as important as all that? Tarzan asks you to keep it with you so that we may examine it from time to time to check our direction, our progress, and so forth. Oh, very well. When we go into camp tonight, I'll get it out of my bag and keep it with me. Where, Mme. And now, what do you think of the jungle by this time? No, I love it. I wouldn't have missed this trip for anything. Out of Africa, all we something new. It's certainly a true thing. Remember, it is very apropos. But I suppose the jungle is more or less commonplace to you, Tarzan, having spent so much of your life in it. The jungle is never commonplace, Ellen, but where I wouldn't be here. The jungle is my home. That is the only thing about your jungle I don't appreciate. The wild beasts. I'm not really afraid of them, but they do make me nervous when they roar like that. There's nothing to be afraid of. Well, perhaps not, but it sounds so, so terribly savage. It makes my flesh creep. Numa is only curious. He is coming to look us over. Satisfied that we mean him no harm, he will go on about his business, unless he is hungry. Nevertheless, I wouldn't care particularly to wander off from the safari, as Margaret insists on doing. Margaret? Has she left the column? Oh, she just wandered off into a little clearing over there. She went out to some wild plums, I think. Numa is angry. He is stalking his prey. Go to the head of the column, you two, and stay there. I'm going after Margaret. A hundred yards to the right of the long file of barers in a little clearing, Margaret stands beneath a wild plum tree. All unaware of the great beast crouching at the edge of the jungle, she calmly proceeds to fill her sun helmet with the luscious fruit. Numa, angry at the approach of man, his mortal enemy, snarls deep in his throat. He gathers himself with the charge. With a low sound, Margaret turns to look directly into the glaring yellow eyes of the lion, with a deafening roar, Numa hurls himself to the attack.