Tarzan’s pursuit of Wright had cost him dear. Almost a mania, his drive to bring Wright to justice .. his crazy ambition to rid the jungle of Wright’s pernicious crimes. Tarzan had failed to think. He’d kept up the hunt. He was going to put a stop to Wright’s wickedness. Whatever it cost.
Now, it seemed, it might cost a lot.
Ambushed, taken captive .. Tarzan had run Wright down .. but grabbed. Surprised by a band of warriors. Supremely built. On the look-out for men who could satisfy their need. Captives who could supply what their beliefs demanded. The magic ingredient that could build up their strength.
The Untula. The tribe that had kidnapped Omekono. Who, in their clutches for weeks, had gone out of his mind. Tormented. Tortured. His mind had snapped. It had taken Tarzan some time to piece together the puzzle. But now he understood which tribe held him prisoner ….. there was no comfort in that knowledge.
They wanted something from Omekono, something special. In their mad search for that secret, Omekono had been destroyed. His manly fires put out.
And now this chief seemed to have a special plan for Tarzan. King of the jungle. A worthy prize to offer to their overlord. That same Mzanka to whom Omekono’s mind had been sacrificed. A KING. A matchless gift. Tarzan offered as body-slave to this lord to whose service they dedicated themselves. Winning his favours. A gift of the king of the jungle – no better offering.