TARZAN ESCAPES

as told in the Big Little Book

Chapter Four - Jane's Photograph

For a moment Jane forgot her fears as she realized the great strength of Tarzan, both as a man and as the leader of the great apes. But then there came to her another thought.

"Tarzan! Guns!" She looked into his face deeply interested. "That means white men!"

"Yes," he nodded his head slowly. "Two men — one white woman."

"A woman!" Jane could hardly believe it. "Same as me?"

"No one same as Jane," and Tarzan held her fondly.

"You're a dear," Jane whispered. "But I don't understand "

Gently Tarzan released her and fumbled about in a knapsack of leaves and bark till he found what he sought. This was the photograph of Jane which he had picked up in Major Fry's encampment. With great pride he presented it to Jane.

"Present — for — Jane," he spoke ceremoniously and extended the picture.

Jane took it hesitantly, but then gave a cry of excitement.

"Where did you get this?" she questioned fervently.

"From people."

"They must be — my people."

Jane studied the picture. Timbee, wondering what caused her great interest, came to investigate. Little Cheetah crowded in also for a better sight.

Tarzan pointed an identifying finger at the photograph.

"Jane," he spoke positively.

"Yes, Tarzan," she agreed. But it was as though she were speaking to herself rather than to him.

"It's Jane — but a different Jane then."

Gravely she looked at the picture.

"It seems such a long time ago "

Her eyes looked into the past and Tarzan sensed that she was sad.

"Jane — not — happy?" he asked.

"Or course, I'm happy." Jane turned to him with a reassuring smile and Cheetah took advantage of the moment and in a flash she pirated the photograph from Jane's hand. The little chimpanzee walked away with her prize, but soon Timbee followed and plucked it from her grasp. Cheetah chattered in protest but Timbee brushed her away and favored the picture with a minute inspection, even smelling it.

"Timbee!" Jane called commandingly. "Give me my photograph."

"Timbee!" Tarzan spoke quietly.

Again Jane was examining her picture, Timbee and Cheetah alongside.

"It used to belong in my uncle's home," she explained. Tell me about those people, Tarzan."

"Same — other — people," Tarzan said patiently, and took her hand. "Come — we go home."

"Tarzan," Jane spoke persuasively, "I want to see them. They might be my people.

Please Tarzan just this once."

But Tarzan seemed immovable.

"Other people no good. Guns! No good! No good!"

But Jane made her appeal again, this time gently. "Please — "

"No." Tarzan looked away, but he spoke with less conviction.

"Please — " Jane said again. "I want to see them."

Tarzan thought of the white men and the white woman. He thought of the guns and the long line of cages, each with its animal prisoner. In his heart there was a strange fear, a premonition that disaster awaited him and Jane and his jungle friends at the hands of these white people. But he could not refuse Jane's pleading.

He smiled down upon her.

"We — go — see people," he granted her wish.

Then he summoned Cheetah and Timbee.

"Un-gow-wah!" he commanded. "We — go — home."

They swung easily through the trees.