Lake of Blood

From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery, and violence comes one of the most colorful figures of all time.

Transcribed from the immortal pan of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan, the bronze, white son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of Lake of Blood. Nateses, the Pune messenger, had been to Tarzan's seacoast cabin.

He had looked for the Lord of the jungle in the ape country. He had searched the rolling hills where the elephants made their home. But nowhere was Tarzan to be found. Now near exhaustion, he climbed the steep slopes of Mount Keitinko, calling Tarzan's name, hoping that some miracle might carry his voice to the only man who could help in this time of great trouble and sorrow.

Tarzan! Nateses! Matisa, what are you doing in this part of the jungle? Matisa, hunt Tarzan all over Heloch. What is wrong? Why do you search for me? Togel. Togel. Something is wrong with my small friend, his sick?

Not sick. He's lost. Lost? Two days ago. Many cranes fly over Puneabili. Yes? Togel asks Mamandaganya where they go. She not know. He asks chief, warriors of Tran. Their answer is not clear enough for Togel.

Go on, go on. We're not sure what happened. But after 2nd Flock Crane's Passover Village, Targo, God, we look not fine anyway. Oh, it's his everlasting curiosity. He followed the migration of the Crane's. What kind were they?

Kind. Gun need. Were they the common type? The wappled Crane or the crown variety? Common. Ah, they went her in the northern regions. Well, it's in that direction that we must travel. We find Targo?