He speaks no English and vanishes as quickly and as mysteriously after
he has performed some valorous deed, as though he were a disembodied
spirit.

Then we have another weird neighbor, who printed a beautiful sign in
English and tacked it on the door of his cabin, which we have
preempted, warning us to destroy none of his belongings, and signing
himself "Tarzan of the Apes."

We have never seen him, though we think he is about, for one of the
sailors, who was going to shoot Mr. Clayton in the back, received a
spear in his shoulder from some unseen hand in the jungle.

The sailors left us but a meager supply of food, so, as we have only a
single revolver with but three cartridges left in it, we do not know
how we can procure meat, though Mr. Philander says that we can exist
indefinitely on the wild fruit and nuts which abound in the jungle.

I am very tired now, so I shall go to my funny bed of grasses which Mr.
Clayton gathered for me, but will add to this from day to day as things
happen.
Lovingly,
JANE PORTER.

TO HAZEL STRONG, BALTIMORE, MD.

Tarzan sat in a brown study for a long time after he finished reading
the letter. It was filled with so many new and wonderful things that
his brain was in a whirl as he attempted to digest them all.

So they did not know that he was Tarzan of the Apes. He would tell
them.

In his tree he had constructed a rude shelter of leaves and boughs,
beneath which, protected from the rain, he had placed the few treasures
brought from the cabin. Among these were some pencils.

He took one, and beneath Jane Porter's signature he wrote:

I am Tarzan of the Apes

He thought that would be sufficient. Later he would return the letter
to the cabin.

In the matter of food, thought Tarzan, they had no need to worry--he
would provide, and he did.

The next morning Jane found her missing letter in the exact spot from
which it had disappeared two nights before. She was mystified; but
when she saw the printed words beneath her signature, she felt a cold,
clammy chill run up her spine. She showed the letter, or rather the
last sheet with the signature, to Clayton.

"And to think," she said, "that uncanny thing was probably watching me
all the time that I was writing--oo! It makes me shudder just to think
of it."

"But he must be friendly," reassured Clayton, "for he has returned your
letter, nor did