Tarzan Finds a Son! Page #2

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on top of the escarpment.

We can take a look.

Camp here, Mooloo.

Hang on. Is this Tarzan a white man

or a white ape?

He's white, at any rate.

According to Holt...

he's absolute master

of this whole escarpment.

All right.

They won't charge if we leave them alone.

What's that?

That's just an okapi, Mrs. Lancing.

Okapi? Never heard of it.

A very rare animal.

The old-time hunters used to think it was

a cross between a giraffe and a zebra.

Looks it, too, in a way.

What is it, Mooloo?

- They found the plane!

- Come on.

No question it's their plane.

- Is there any...

- Not a trace. Clean as a whistle.

You certainly do what you undertake.

You brought us right to the place.

So all we need now is an affidavit

from Mr. Sande here...

to the effect

that we've discharged our obligation.

Then we can go home

and live in style for ever after.

It's my belief they survived the crash.

Otherwise, there'd be some sort of trace.

But if they were alive...

surely we'd have had some word

from them in the past five years.

Isn't it possible

they're being held somewhere?

- Held?

- Yes, captive in some native juju hut.

- Magic and all that.

- It's most unlikely.

- But isn't it possible?

- Yes, it's possible, of course.

Then we'll go on searching

as long as there's the least hope.

If only one of them is alive,

we'll take that one back to England...

no matter who tries to stand in our way.

Boys see tree devil, bwana.

Tarzan.

Looks like a warning against trespassing.

Which means that if we keep on...

we're certain to meet the one person

who may have definite news for us.

- We must look for him at once.

- No, don't take your guns.

How did your friend Holt

say we make contact?

Tarzan makes contact himself

when he's ready.

Good day, sir.

I suppose we ought

to explain our intrusion.

- Go!

- Who are you?

Tarzan. Go!

But look here, we came all this way

to find some white people...

- That's enough of that.

- Steady.

This is a precaution of my own.

Tarzan, wait!

- What's the matter?

- People.

Tell this creature

he can't treat us like this.

My husband has learned not to trust guns.

- Your husband?

- Yes.

Yours?

Perhaps we should introduce ourselves.

We're from London.

I'm Austin Lancing, Mrs. Lancing...

my uncle, Sir Thomas, and Mr. Sande,

in charge of the party.

Hello.

No. These people are from my home.

Shall we go to my house and eat?

We don't want to put you to any trouble.

Nonsense. Of course we do.

We're famished.

Then you can tell me all about London.

We go.

I hope she won't give us ostriches to eat.

Nothing as elaborate as all that,

Mrs. Lancing.

I'm afraid at such short notice,

there'll be nothing but fruit.

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