His army of beasts had melted into the jungle, save Tantor and his herd, who carried the weary loggers back to their own camp. At Tarzan’s insistence, they had left the dead—human and animal—where they had fallen. Tarzan and Jane rode Tantor. Tarzan never once acknowledged the constant stream of gratitude the loggers offered for saving their lives. Fighting off fatigue, Jane spoke about the new life that awaited Tarzan. “You are the heir to the Greystoke legacy. You don’t belong out here. You have a home back in Britain.” The words had no impact on Tarzan. Jane persisted. “There are people who want to know you are alive. Your parents were rich, very rich. Do you understand money?” Tarzan shook his head. Jane sighed. How could she explain the importance of money to somebody who’d never heard of it? “You give money, I give you food.” Tarzan frowned.
