The Treasure of the Ancients

African drums are talking. Land of exotic mood and fevered wanderings where the echoing footsteps of adventurous dead still ring upon the ears of those who follow. Where parasites in buzzing hoards await nique overhanging vines that trellis a fancy of twilight on the path.

Land of paradox and lies. Of greenery whose velvet softness harbors poison beads of perfume agony. A land of pastel shades and painted death, where death is marked by life and life by death. This is Africa.

In the whispering forest of death, Ifabi, a beautiful native girl, leads the professor's party in search of a legendary treasure. Professor Edwards has never really trusted this native girl, for she has large yellow eyes and is a mistress of the art of hypnotism.

Ifabi plots with a daco, son of the chief of her village, to allow the white men to to transport the treasure away from the devil-infested forest and then kill the whites and take the treasure of themselves.

In a clearing, the party finds the headstones which mark the end of their search and to support the professor's theory that the treasure originally belonged to a party of Roman invaders, Jack finds a Roman short sword.

Just then a throwing spear strikes into the ground barely missing in guru. Don't shoot Jack. Wait! Why not? In my dark or in my feet, son. He's crazy, sir. He's forming at the mouth. Look.

the devils of the forest have entered his brain. What did all mean, father? What did one? You must have followed us for some reason. Adako, son of the chief. Come in peace and let us blower.

Wait, man, the devils have decreased your day. Go on on, gurugo, go catch him. No, you stay here and go on on, gurugo, go catch him. Come back, come back, and go on. He's not on, sir. Leave him alone, Jack.