 Tarzan of the Apes, from the novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs, with Mr. James H. Pierce as Tarzan, and Mr. Van Burroughs as Jane Porter. Professor Porter and his party, in trying to rescue the professor's daughter, have been captured by cannibals. But Tarzan has saved Jane from the menacing jungle, and takes her to the little cabin in the clearing. Professor Porter, on Darno's advice that rain is near, convinces the natives that he is a great medicine man who can make rain. The whites discredit the native witch doctor, and although Professor Porter's party does not know it, he is even now plotting his revenge. Now, are you ready? Hold your breath. At the cannibal trial, Professor Porter, Cleaton, Belander, Darno, and his sailors watch the natives gyrating and frenzied abandon about their sick sacrificial fire. Gosh, Cleaton, you seem to have stepped back a thousand years. Yes, yes. Quite abusive it is. I do feel as if in some way we are responsible. Look, do you see them carrying that image to the fire? Yes, yes, and I do. It's an effigy of their white devil god, of this fellow Belander and Tristan calling Tarzan of the Apes, garlanded with flowers and leaves. This is the ceremony of stealing the soul of Tarzan to bring it back into that effigy. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. Step the lime on to it, Prince Berosha. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. I bring you a beetle leaf to chew. Somebody at sunrise be distraught for love of me. Katori, Mahari, Katori Nami. Katori, Mahari, Katori Namo. Katori, Mahari, Katori Nami. As you remember your parents, remember me. Katori, Bitara, Katori Nami. Katori, Bitari, Bitari Nami. Katori, Bitara, Katori Nami. As you remember your house and Bulma, remember me. Katori, Mahari, Katori Nami. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. When the thunder rumbles, remember me. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. When the wind whittles, remember me. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. Katori, Nehori, Katari Nami. When the heaven rain, remember me. Bitara, Apra Nami. Bitara, Apra Nami. Come, come, full of him. Come, hither to me. Katori, Katori Nami. Do not mean to let you have my home. Come, hither to me. The whole thing is unreal. Diabolical. The glare of the fire, the gleaming, glistening bodies, the smoke rising from the effigy. The loam are not enough chanting. It's like some ghastly nightmare. It's unholy. Monsieur, we are free to leave. The chief, despite the witch doctor's opposition, has told the tribe that we can depart. Let us get Monsieur Clayton away. It's rich. It's frightful. Stop it. Stop it, Clayton. The gates are open to us. We can walk out. We can walk out. I don't understand this in Clayton. The African fever. He has been going on his nerve. Let us get him to the hut as quickly as possible. Thunder rolls and echoes among the great trees of the African jungle. Inside the hut, cane, mortar, and parthenes watch the downpour from the window. I said that I wasn't fighting with the rain and the thunder. But I don't like thunder like that. Thunder? Big noise? Yes. What do you call it? Manganese call it hand. Manganese? What is that? Third cause. Manganese. Morgue. Manganese. Gupta. Manganese. Oh. Manganese means great ape. Ape? Great ape? Yes. White skin man. Tog ape. White skin. Tar manganese. White skin. Great white ape. Jane. She tar manganese. That's pretty much longer. I shall be an ape. I wonder. Sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad after all to live in the trees with... Oh, white skin. I must be reverting to type. It frightens me. But after all, I've written four walls that might be cozy on a night like this. Let's sit down, white skin, and talk about us. I am sitting in this chair, and you sit here on the floor beside me. Mary, it seems good to sit in this chair again. What are you going to do with that tin box, white skin? White skin. Shoes. Jane. Look. Tarzan, as he speaks, lifts from the shelf the metal box. That metal box that once was Lord Grey Stokes. The box that contains the proof of Tarzan's identity. Tarzan removes a little primer from its hiding place in the box. Jane, like? Like this? I... I don't know. Dear, I suppose... I suppose you want me to read it. And guess how can you? You can only see what I have taught you. How can you know that this, this primer is something to be read? White skin got more. Tarzan draws the arrows from his quiver. He plunges his arm into the crude leather case and takes out a carefully made package of leaves. The ape man unwraps the leaves and at last holds out to Jane a folded piece of paper. My letter. The letter I wrote to Hazel. But I wondered what it would come of it. How did you get it? White skin paint? Yes. White skin steak. Night time. White skin sea. White skin steak. Again Tarzan reaches into the quiver. He draws out his closed fist, opens it, and looks intently at a tiny object before handing it to Jane. White skin! This... this must be the Great Doke Larkin! Well, how... how did you find it? Where did you get this? A cell phone will be overjoyed. But I... I can't understand. And I don't suppose I can make you understand either. Jane, like? Jane, like this? Oh, white skin. Of course you have no idea of the value of this. You don't know the tradition of this Larkin. Lark... Larkin? Yes, my skin. Larkin. White skin give Jane Larkin. But... but... but I can't take it. Oh, how can I make you understand? As the tears stream down Jane Porter's face, the crude hut, the rough-hewn table, the bare walls, stained from view. She sees instead the green lawns, the trimmed hedge-rose of Grey Stoke Manor. She sees the long-paneled ancestral gallery, the portrait of the beautiful Lady Alice, the last bride of a Grey Stoke to wear the locket. The bronze giant at her side takes the golden bobble from her and places the chain about her neck. Oh, my skin. I can't. I must knock. You don't know what it means. Only the pride of a Grey Stoke may wear it. Silently watching stand Tarzan. Lord of the jungle, and though he himself knows it not and Jane Porter does not know, Tarzan is Lord Grey Stoke. Will Cleveland illness prevent the professor and the party from leaving the cannibals? Is Jane about to discover that white skin is Tarzan of the apes and Lord Grey Stoke?