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Carter had Tarzan over a barrel. His partner had Korak somewhere .. in a location unknown. Even if he shook Carter off, how was he supposed to set his son free?
“We don’t come back …”Carter sneered, knowing he had the upper hand, .. “ .. your brat’s going to be digging himself an early grave.”
“Lost tribe? Doesn’t exist,” Tarzan had scoffed. “A legend, that’s all.”
Carter wasn’t listening.
“Lost, that’s all. Don’t mean, Doesn’t exist. Simply not found .. along with all that treasure …..”
Carter wouldn’t hear of anything else.
“And if anyone can find a tribe that’s lost .. it’s the apeman.”
They had set off. Carter had thrown Tarzan’s knife away. But he kept his own rifle to hand.
“We come back empty-handed, apeman .. kiss goodbye to your brat …..”
A myth. There was no lost tribe. Legends grew with the telling .. along with the glory of their treasure .. Tarzan was convinced of that.
Carter thought he had Tarzan by the short-and-curlies. He’d risk nothing to save his son. But Tarzan had no worries about overpowering Carter. He was armed with nothing but patience. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment. And then Tarzan would work on Carter. Force would unlock Carter’s mouth .. telling where Tarzan could find his son.
Carter was wary, of course. So far Tarzan’ hadn’t found his chance. And now it was too late. Tarzan had got the shock of his life.
It did exist. Tarzan had found the lost tribe.