The Captain Is In Quicksand

Tarzan of the eight brought to you from out the pages of Edgar Wright Burles in multiple. Tarzan feels the full giving way, the sucking, flithering sand, the strong, Tracy down too deep before the eight men to pull him out. For two hours Tarzan has fought with death.

Now every nerve, every muscle, every fiber of a strong body aches and forces with the unnatural strain. He tries to free his hand, Tracy, giving the movement, struggles in front of him, Rips more tightly. His nails dig into the eight-man's wrists.

His bays die staring, seeing me before him. Again Tarzan tried to free himself from a deathly grip. Again, trading much as that is salvation. Tarzan's arm. With a mighty effort Tarzan braces himself. His tortured lungs feel the relief of his screams.

The shock hits Tracy like a blow. His fingers relax. Clutch again, open and close compulsively. Claw like the grass bent the air. Tarzan has freed himself. himself. Gasping, he throws himself on the sand. His breath comes painfully. The blood drops in his temple. Tarzan pulls himself painfully to his knees. Freaky is almost up to his arm pits on the sand.

Every pupil movement draws him deeper, holds him more securely in the treacherous sand. With foam, flexed malts and bloodshot eyes, waving like a maniac. Freaky clutches at Tarzan as the eight men staggers to his feet. Tarzan hears the answering call from the tall trees. The apes have The third. Every movement is torture to Tarzan. Every joint is strained and wrenched. He glances

at Tracey. He feels his side to be sure that his knife is there and starts for the nearest cotlatory. His fingers are almost numb with pain as he pulls himself up from branch to branch. Up, up, up, he goes. Sit the strider branch and hacks the tough joints of a creeping vine. The knife that is so easy that he killed water finds the fibers of the vine at different