Tarzan Finds a Son! Page #2

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- 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.

Evidently, one's ears

become acute out here.

Nothing compared to Tarzan's, of course.

Mr. Sande's told us

about your husband's marvelous instincts:

Like a wild animal.

- I didn't exactly say that, Mr. Lancing.

- Don't apologize, Mr. Sande.

Tarzan and I have a high opinion

of wild animals and their habits.

I haven't often gone

against Tarzan's instincts.

When I have, I've been wrong.

Get in. It's quite safe.

What a charming way to live.

Here we are.

- I say, all the conveniences.

- Yes, by George.

- Mother.

- Hello, darling.

- Your son?

- What a dear little fellow.

- What's his name?

- We call him Boy.

That's not his real name?

Say, "How do you do?" Go on.

- Cat's got his tongue.

- Hello, Boy.

- How do you do?

- That's right.

No cats up here.

No, nothing but lions. I know.

- Shall we go in now and get lunch?

- Splendid.

- Will you excuse me?

- Why, certainly.

Sit.

- Eat.

- Thank you.

Delicious. What's the name

of these things?

Food.

You know what they're called, young man?

- Food.

- Dreadful savages, aren't they?

Eat.

I think I'll see if I can be of any help

in the kitchen.

Something I can do?

You could get me an egg. They're in there.

- Just one apiece?

- I think one will be enough.

Thank you.

You must get pretty good hunting up here.

Lions with a jackknife, that's sport.

My dear boy, have your breakfast

before Tarzan eats you raw.

Cheetah, turn on the fan.

I'm afraid your husband feels

we're intruding.

- Not really.

- There's no real harm in us.

- Merely a search party.

- Search party?

But there hasn't been a safari here

in years.

It wasn't a safari exactly.

The Richard Lancings were flying

to Cape Town.

As a matter of fact,

it's five years since they disappeared.

A while ago, we found their cracked-up

plane outside of our camp.

They're inquiring

about some friends, Tarzan.

You say they were relatives of yours?

Yes, the man was a second cousin.

A nephew of the late Earl of Greystoke.

I may say a favorite nephew.

Am I to understand

that you have some news of our relations?

Tarzan, will you take Boy for his swim?

I don't think he can be interested in this.

Please, Tarzan.

- Come, Boy, swim.

- Swim.

Well?

They and their pilot

never reached Cape Town.

Oh, my dear.

When we got to the plane...

we found evidence

that the natives had been there before us.

- The Gabonis?

- No.

There's another savage tribe up here

on the escarpment...

the Zambeles, off to the southwest.

It's their custom to use their male victims

in a horrible sort of magic.

Tarzan and I found the girl

and we buried her where she's safe.

But the men were gone.

I understand why you didn't wish

to speak of it before the boy.

I suppose we'll be starting back tomorrow.

All right. How about

getting past the Gabonis?

I'll put you on a way...

that won't take you

through the Gaboni country.

That's very obliging of you.

Our cousins had a child with them.

We buried the child with his mother.

Our entire family

will be very grateful to you.

I can show you the grave now,

if you'd like.

Thank you. Whenever it's convenient.

We shall be about here for a day or two.

- Wouldn't you like to see it now?

- Yes, why not?

Might I say goodbye to Boy and Tarzan

before I go?

Please, not today.

He's been so difficult and not behaving.

- Shall we start?

- Yes.

Poor young Richard's wife.

Everything to live for:

Youth, health, wealth.

A splendid young husband and a little son.

- It was a son?

- A son?

I believe so.

What a future that child would have had.

My brother Neville's will left everything

in trust for 20 years to come.

Not a penny for the next of kin until

Richard has been definitely proven dead.

Which explains

our touching family interest here.

Sir Thomas makes this sound

too sordid, my dear.

Naturally we'd have given anything

to have found them alive.

We'll never forget what you've done here.

We owe you and your husband

more than we can repay.

Roughly 1 million, split three ways.

Oh, then it's all right, then.

I'm so glad. I mean,

that we were able to do what we did.

I'll come to your camp at dawn tomorrow

and put you on your way, just as I said.

- Goodbye, my dear.

- Goodbye and thank you.

- My love to the boy.

- Goodbye.

Well, we're rich.

Uncle Tom doesn't seem

especially thrilled.

Under the circumstances,

I'm sure you'll forgive me for not gloating.

We'd better start packing for tomorrow.

Coming, Uncle Tom?

No. I think I'll stop here for a pipe or two.

Really, he's becoming

more and more impossible.

What harm?

Boy, no!

Boy, no!

Tarzan say no.

Look out, Boy.

Boy bad.

Don't be a silly ass.

Just a gift for the boy.

Tell him it's from the old gentleman.

I wish that awful thing would stop.

No dinner, thank you.

Have the boys ready at dawn,

and no thorns in their feet.

We shan't be leaving here tomorrow.

- I beg your pardon.

- That boy...

Eyes I seem to have looked into before.

Even the shape of Richard Lancing's chin.

What are you talking about?

You know what I'm talking about.

That child's your second cousin.

And, by George, my grandnephew.

No, it can't be possible.

Austin, you knew it all along.

Yes, and Sande knows it, too.

Don't you, Sande?

I really don't see how it concerns me.

There's an established custom

in dealing with those matters.

Established custom?

If it's ivory the party's after...

the hunter in charge usually gets

10 of whatever they bring out.

Very well.

I suppose we'll have to let it go at that.

You can count on me, then.

Perhaps I don't quite follow.

We're all going to keep absolutely mum.

The boy will never know who he is

or how we robbed him.

Blood doesn't mean much to you,

does it, Austin?

I'm not rich enough

to afford sentimentality.

Supposing I consent to all this...

and supposing even that Mr. Sande...

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