Escape

The African drums are calling. The slow rhythmic cadence of the drums penetrates into the deepest bush. It crosses black, sinuous rivers and on into the surrounding country, rising and falling to the vagaries of the African breeze. The space in the center of some village lies the cold body of a great chipping carefully to his distance from the next. Comes a line

of seven warriors, circle to body. Firelight playing a ghostly symphony along muscular bodies. ripples coursing continually up and down the back and out along the arms to the fingertips and never ceases. It is the dance of death. Take up their rhythmic step again, keeping their distance. Warriors overlap, and they dance, with the villagers standing in a great outer

circle. Professor Anton Edwards, his daughter Lorna and his assistant, Jack Martin, have been captured by a savage tribe while on an expedition into the wilds of Africa. Mguru, The professor's huge, Maasai bodyguard has crept up to the hut where the two men are confined and slipped weapons to them.

Jack and the professor were awaiting an Guru's signal when a cry from Lorna reached their ears. I can't sit still with that scream of Lorna's ringing in my ears. Let's do something, sir. I'll do a thing, Jack. If she's in danger, Unguro will take care of it.

He's probably willow by now. It can't be very serious or we'd have heard him in the center of a fight. Comes have stopped. Do you really think she's all right? I know she's not in any immediate danger.

Unguru would have let us know before now. Oh, yes, I guess so. But just wait one. Patience, Jack, my boy. If I'm not mistaken, we'll be out of here shortly and in a position to really do something if necessary.