 Tarzan of the Eighths, from the novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs, with Mr. James H. Pierce's Tarzan and Mr. Ann Burroughs as Jane Porter. This is an American gold-sealed production, directed by James Knight Cardin, coming to you over the world broadcasting system and its associated stations. Tarzan and Jane Porter have rescued Jane's father, Philander, Clayton, and Lieutenant Darno from the Temple Caves, sacred to the cannibals. The party is attacked by the cannibals, and after a fight in which all but one of Darno's sailors are killed, they start off to the hut under Tarzan's guidance. They are camped for the night when Professor Porter collapses. Now, are you ready? Hold your breath. Oh, Daddy. Daddy, say, look at me. Daddy, please. Please, speak to me. Daddy. Oh, Daddy, don't leave me. Don't leave me. No, Memoiselle Jane, calm yourself. Your father is in no immediate danger. But, Lieutenant, I know. I know. I've had that feeling. Fever, Memoiselle Fever. Bad. Bad, I know. But not necessarily fatal. Come, my friends, we must press on, even if it is barely daylight. Tarzan, will you carry the Professor? Clayton has enough to do just to hold himself together. Yes. Darno, we'll put out the fire and get things together. I'll carry Jane's father. Now wait, Tarzan. You, Francois, go ahead and clear the way. We won't, Lieutenant. Monsieur Philander will bring up the rail with me. I'm afraid, Darno, that this train has been too much for Archimedes. Very much afraid. No, no. You are wrong, Monsieur Philander. That is typical of this fever. In a few moments, he will be himself again. Then, however, the attacks will become more frequent and more severe, that is, unless we can stop them. Yes, well, let's hope we can stop them. I say, where is Francois? He is ahead there, clearing the way. Oh, have you any idea how far we have to go? Not so far now, Monsieur Clayton. Do not you feel the difference already in the air, the tang of the sea? Now that you mention it. Yes. Why, bless my soul. Is that the professor ahead, walking? Come on. How do you feel, Professor? Better, Philander. So foolish of me. I don't understand. Now, don't you try to talk, Daddy. You say that to your will. Only a little way to that. Only a little time today now. Yes, I never was so glad to see the first signs of dawn. You know, I hate to say it, but I'm just rather nervous. It doesn't seem as though I've eaten anything for weeks. Soon we get to open place. I will get food. That sounds good. I don't blame you, Jane. I'm plain starving. Well, I can go ahead and shoot something and have it ready for you. No need. I can get food easily, without noise. Yes, Monsieur Clayton. We need not waste a shot. Do we have to do everything that Tarzan suggests? I'm getting sick and tired of Tarzan this and Tarzan that. I'm found it. I'm able to use my own judgment, isn't it, Clayton? It's time somebody spoke to you straight from the shoulder. You can go your own sweet way, as long as it doesn't interfere with the safety of others. But when it does affect others, then you must toe the line. Look, we must see all of those at the heart. Yes, Jane. A little more. My, but the sight of the clearing takes a load off my mind. The jungle is, the jungle is so depressing. Dono. Yes, Monsieur Filandier. This attitude of Clayton's is getting unbearable. And besides, I don't think it's safe for Clayton to have a rifle. He's not in any fit mood to be allowed to shoot the lawn there. To try to deprive him of that rifle now, well, it would only lead to more unpleasantness and perhaps precipitate the very thing that you fear. Yeah, well, I suppose you're right. Now, may we, I guess, defend them all. Come, Monsieur Filandier, we are almost there. Don't you think we are so close now that Tarzan might leave us and get something to eat? I think so, Professor. Yes, I know we are. Amazing the way we have come to depend upon him. Yes, it certainly is, Daddy. While you know we all owe him our lives. Tarzan, go now. You go to hut. Tarzan brings food. You'll come back before long, Tarzan? Yes, Jane. As soon as I have made a kill. And once more, our hairless ape friend takes to the trees. Really, Cecil? I cannot understand or appreciate your dislike of Tarzan. Had he ever done anything harmful to you, there would be some excuse for your sarcasm and your ill-feeling. But to my knowledge, he has done nothing but good toward every one of us and toward you, especially... Right, right, right, my dear. You appear to have forgotten, Clayton, that he has saved your life. Not once, but several times. Which fact I appreciate. Though it was probably only done to stand well in Jane's eyes. However, that's merely a matter of opinion. Frankly, the fellow is getting on my nerves a bit. That's not fair, Clayton, nor is it sporting of you. I am tragically agree with Jane and Professor Porter. Had it not been for Tarzan, on several occasions, there would be no Lord Greystone. You long since have gone the way of your uncle. Well, apparently I stand alone in my dislike for the fellow. But I can't help it. His very presence annoys me frightfully. His proprietary air with Jane. His animal health and fruit strengthens. Oh, everything about him sets my teeth on it. But you are distraught, Monsieur. The fever is in your veins. Now, a little rest only, and you will forget all this. How did he treat you, Jane? During the time you were alone in the jungle with him. Oh, Cecil, your impossible attitude is becoming more than annoying. He was very much of a gentleman. And there wasn't a day with five that he didn't put himself in danger to protect me. Tarzan is absolutely fearless. He has the natural instincts of a gentleman. An exceptionally fine character. And you're wrong. Wrong. From what I have seen of Tarzan, I heartily agree with you, Mamoiselle Jane. I should feel honored to call him friend. It's very apparent that you're all prejudiced in his favor. He certainly gained an invaluable place in your esteem through his constant vain glorious pretension. No, my friend, that isn't fair. You must realize that Tarzan's actions are anything but opposed. He doesn't know the meaning of the word. Exactly, Philander. The young man is far too naive for any such... If you were not ill, Cecil, you would be the first to realize your mistake. Ill? Ill? I'm not ill, not in the least. I merely see the boundary from an unbiased viewpoint. You, Philander, and you, Professor Forthack, believe it was an ape who abducted Jane in the first place. I am still and shall always remain of the opinion that it was none other than Tarzan himself who was Jane's abduct- I beg your pardon, Clayton. I saw the ape clearly. You hear? I saw the ape. Both Jane and her father are well able to corroborate that statement. Well, who should know better than I? But, Mr. Philander, what's the use of all this ridiculous argument? Cecil is perfectly welcome to his opinion as far as I am concerned. He cannot change my high opinion of Tarzan. Oh, mine, Jane. Listen to it. Why, the fellow's nothing less than a savage, a cannibal himself. If your ideas weren't so terribly biased, you'd all see it for yourself. But, Monsieur Clayton, that's that, Clayton. You are not... Oh, never mind, Father. Cecil, I could only remind you again of everything that Tarzan has done for us. And whatever you think, he has shown himself a gentleman, more of a gentleman in fact than Cecil Clayton of Greast Oak and far, far better company. Bravo, Mamoiselle Jane. Bravo. Clayton, furious at Jane Porter's remarks, blinded by hate and jealousy, walks rapidly ahead of the party. He disappears behind the screen of bamboo. Jane, Darno, and the rest of the party stand still for a moment. Oh, I shouldn't have said that. Don't feel badly, Jane. Cecil needed something like that to bring him to his senses. Clayton! Oh, I was afraid of that. The shot passes within an inch of Tarzan's head. The eight man springs. He smashes the rifle from Clayton's grasp, his muscular hand grips, stock and barrel. He raises his knee, brings the rifle down across it. With a loud snap, the stock is broken from the barrel, and Tarzan forces the useless rifle into the underbrush. Clayton lunges toward him, a smile of fury on his lips. Tarzan's left hand soots out in the Englishman's throat, pulls him away from him with one hand, squeezing, squeezing slowly. Clayton's eyes protrude, his struggles lessen. He gasps wildly for breath. Oh, Tarzan! Tarzan, don't kill him! But I think, don't! Don't, don't! Don't swap! Make sure! Help, help me to stop this! The man is mad! Mad! Tarzan! Tarzan! Stop! You wish me to let this man go? He tried to kill me! Oh, yes, yes! Please, let him go! Tarzan hurls Clayton at James' feet. There he is. I give him to you, James. Oh, Tarzan, please understand. I only ask that you don't kill him for your own sake. I do understand. You want him? Take him. Tarzan of the Apes goes back to his own to the feast which do not kill for hate. You're wrong, Tarzan. You do not understand. Tarzan! You understand. He is just an apeman. He belongs to the jungle. He proudly turns his back on the little party of silent men and the white girl. He walks to the nearest tree and without a single backward glance swings into the lower branches. Will Tarzan be able to stay away from Jane Porter? And what will happen to...