 In an attempt to escape from what they believe to be a race of prehistoric yellow-skinned giants, Tarzan and his friends take to an underground river in a dugout canoe. The stream carries them through a mountainous cliff, on the far side of which they are on the verge of being drawn over the brink of a waterfall, when Tarzan draws them ashore by means of his rope. On the following morning, they begin their search for a means of reaching the river below the falls. O'Rourke finds a well-worn trail which Tarzan believes to be man-made. A short distance along the path, the eight-man becomes suspicious and decides to investigate. Calling a halt, he is about to swing into the trees in advance alone when Darno cries out a sharp warning, as if by magic the forest all around them becomes alive with yellow men. O'Rourke raises his rifle to shoot. Put down that rifle, O'Rourke. Don't move any of you. Slowly, cautiously, the circle of yellow giants narrows about the little group waiting tensely, not knowing what to expect. Step-by-step, the yellow men approach. They're great spears held ready for instant use. Uncle Jim, Uncle Jim, they're going to kill us. That is my dear. If that had been their intention, Janet, they could have done so long ago, and we would never have known what struck us. Now, look at their faces. They show more curiosity than cruel intent to kill. At a sign from one who appears to be their leader, the yellow men halt. The little company is completely and closely hedged in by the huge creatures. With the point of his spear almost touching the eight-man's breast, the leader speaks guttural language. Tarzan slowly shakes his head in a sign that he does not understand. A huge yellow savage thumps himself on the chest. Ruler, Mungo. He is telling you, Tarzan, that his name is Mungo. Yes. I am Tarzan. Tarzan of the eighth Tarzan. The brute speaks English. You understand Tarzan? Mungo, understand Tarzan. What you do here? We are trying to reach the river in the valley below. Find our way out of jungle. Tarzan, you come along Mungo. Stop, stop. Atea. Atea? Who is Atea? Atea, great queen. You give fire sticks. Mungo, no hurt. You no give, Mungo, take. Yes, and I'm not giving me rifle up to any savage oil. We'll keep our fire sticks, Mungo. You no give, Mungo, take. Tarzan, I think it is best to comply with his demand. Temporarily, at least. They will only take them by force. We cannot hope to fight them all. But to give up without even trying. Say the word Tarzan, and I'll let that fellow have it right in the chest. The Major and Mungo are ready. Menonopassa, O'Rourke. You know, Tarzan, that if we were alone, I would be the first to offer resistance. But, Memoiselle Jeanette, if we are killed, the post to us, what will become of her? Right. Give up your rivals. Ah, fair lieutenant, I don't like it. Neither do I, O'Rourke, Monami, but we are only five, not counting Memoiselle Jeanette. Look, look around you. There are at least 30 of them against us. All right, Mungo. You have our fire sticks. What now? You come along, Mungo, now. Toc, toc, atea. Gambo arrow, to. At the guttural words addressed to his followers, Mungo turns on his heel and stalks down the trail. Closely hemmed in by their gigantic yellow-skinned captors, Tarzan and his friends, now weaponless, follow. Oh, Lord Tarzan, my friend, come to your, you were right. What do you mean? About the trail being man-made and being used by men. Tarzan? Yes, O'Rourke. When do we make a fight, O'Rourke? On day, wait, wait, O'Rourke. Have you not noted that our captors are different from those others? All I know is that I don't like the looks of things. And the sooner we can get out of this, the better. May a good day, Monsieur O'Rourke. Can you not understand that an attempt to fight or escape now would mean but one thing, death. We can make an awful good throw at it off. I think it will be killed anyway, sooner or later. And what of Memoiselle Jeanette? No, no. We must protect her to the last man, O'Rourke. Of course. Then the only way we can do that is to remain alive as long as we can. I do not think they would kill her, but they would not hesitate to do away with us. What do you think, Tarzan? He is right, O'Rourke. Wait. All right, then. If you say so. We'll see it through. But at the first sign of treachery, I'm starting in on these hair, then. Avec quoi, with what, Monsieur O'Rourke? We are on our way. With me on two hands, bigory. We'll wait a little, O'Rourke, until we've seen this queen, Artea. Excellent advice, my friend. And, O'Rourke, I repeat, had these savages wished too, they could have killed this other hand back there on the trail. Well, they're just as bad as the mothers that took us. They didn't kill us when they had the chance. Even after we laid out half a dozen of them. They were all ready to feed us. But the crocodile started in with me. Nevertheless, we are still alive. A good omen, my friend. And as long as we are alive, is it too much to hope that a more proficient moment to consider escape will be given, isn't it? Ah, Dave B. Wong. He'd talk the legs off a brass saint. But you must admit, I am at least logical. Oh, well, yes. Maybe you're right, if that's what you mean. Dr. Andano, what do you make of the fact that these creatures speak English or that one of them does after a passion? At some time, they must have had contact with English-speaking white men, Musilla Doctor. Naturally. But they tutored one beyond the cliff. They spoke no English, nor, seemingly, did they understand it. Oh, it is very easy to see that these fellows are of a higher mentality than the others. A little less, shall I say, the abysmal brute? Exactly. And do you have noticed the fact that not one of these captors of ours has claw feet? Musilla Doctor, just what are you driving, huh? Have you never seen a red rose growing on the same bush with a white one, my friend? Crafting, I believe the English call it. Not really, Wong. I have seen... tonne de presse, Musilla Doctor. You mean those beyond the Underground River are really men, no, society, impossible, utterly impossible. To this scientific train, Lieutenant, nothing is impossible. Forced or scientific cross-breeding, in this instance we might call it grafting, is a scientific fact. I could cite two instances. However, it is a truly absorbing study. No, no, no, my... I cannot believe it. Oh, ma'am, was that Jeanette? You are Poisel? Well, we've left the first trail we were on, Lieutenant. Isn't this an elephant path we're following now? A way, dear, so it is. I was so deeply engrossed in a discussion with Musilla Doctor Wong that I did not notice. Tarzan? I know, Dono. We're headed away from the river. Look, over there in that clearing, the Pandore elephants, a whole herd, see them yell their head and fool in with them bulls. They're handling the elephants like regular mahouts. But riding African elephants ain't supposed to be possible or healthy. So I've heard them. Yet these fellows handled them easily enough. Look how the beasts lift the men up and put them on their back. Apparently we are going to ride to the aboard of the Queen Atea. We shall know immediately, Musilla Doctor, here comes Mungo. City of Queen Atea, long way. Five people go on elephant. Come. At a shout from Mungo, six great grey beasts, each guided by a yellow-skinned giant, come forward. Tarzan steps quietly out to meet the nearest. At a gruff command from its rider, the brute's trunk reaches out, encircles the eight man's body, and lifts him gently to a seat on its back behind the mahout. When all are mounted, the entire troop, following a wide path, strikes off into the depths of the jungle. At high speed, the elephants follow the winding jungle path, until near sunset, the trail ends abruptly on the edge of a small saucer-like valley, treeless and barren. Half a mile distant, in the center of the plain, rises the city of Atea, constructed of grey rock, the buildings are low, flat-roofed. One, apparently, the palace, rises above the rest, and is built entirely around and against a tall column of grey rock, like the keep of an ancient castle. Completely surrounding the city is a high, wide-topped stone wall, with flat-roofed watchtowers every hundred yards. Over a well-traveled roadway, toward a massive gate, the elephants sway along. At their approach, the barrier swings open. Without pause, Mungo leads through a wide street, crowded with gigantic yellow men and women, to halt before a dome-roofed house. Mungo and several of his men dismount. At guttural commands, the elephants carrying Tarzan and his friends lift the whites to the ground with their trunks. Mungo leads the way into a wide circular chamber, furnished with massive wooden couches covered with lion and leopard skins. White people, stay here. Pretty soon, Mungo will come back. Then you, Doc-Doc, are there. Just like that. If the heathen queens in a good humour, we can talk with her. If she ain't, I'll be guttier, wish I had me automatic. What good would it do you, my friend? If we kill this woman, the giants will annihilate us. A man cannot combat a swarm of ants or bees. Certainly not a horde of armed savages. Be reasonable, Terry. Wong's right. Great scot man, do you want to get us all killed with your craving for a fight? Yes, you'll probably get all the fighting you want, Terry, before we're out of this. It will come to a fighting sooner or later. It depends on the queen. Oh, eh, so safe, eh? Very true. In the meantime, those couches look inviting. I think I shall lie down. Uh-huh. You got it. He's your friend Mungo, Dr. Wong. The heathen devil should make a fast trip. They must be anxious to get over with this stuff. Oh, then, white people...