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Tarzan shook his head. "I prefer the jungle," he said.
The aviator dug his toe into the ground and still looking down, blurted something
which he evidently hated to say. "If it is a matter of living, old top," he said, "er--
money, er--you know--"
Tarzan laughed. "No," he said. "I know what you are trying to say. It is not that. I
was born in the jungle. I have lived all my life in the jungle, and I shall die in the
jungle. I do not wish to live or die elsewhere."
The others shook their heads. They could not understand him.
"
Go," said the ape-man. "The quicker you go, the quicker you will reach safety."
They walked to the plane together. Smith-Oldwick pressed the ape-man's hand
and clambered into the pilot's seat. "Good-bye," said the girl as she extended her
hand to Tarzan. "Before I go won't you tell me you don't hate me any more?"
Tarzan's face clouded. Without a word he picked her up and lifted her to her
place behind the Englishman. An expression of pain crossed Bertha Kircher's
face. The motor started and a moment later the two were being borne rapidly
toward the east.
In the center of the meadow stood the ape-man watching them. "It is too bad that
she is a German and a spy," he said, "for she is very hard to hate."
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