hty engineering works. Then
you will realize that it is mind, and not muscle, that makes the human
animal greater than the mighty beasts of your jungle.

"Alone and unarmed, a single man is no match for any of the larger
beasts; but if ten men were together, they would combine their wits and
their muscles against their savage enemies, while the beasts, being
unable to reason, would never think of combining against the men.
Otherwise, Tarzan of the Apes, how long would you have lasted in the
savage wilderness?"

"You are right, D'Arnot," replied Tarzan, "for if Kerchak had come to
Tublat's aid that night at the Dum-Dum, there would have been an end of
me. But Kerchak could never think far enough ahead to take advantage
of any such opportunity. Even Kala, my mother, could never plan ahead.
She simply ate what she needed when she needed it, and if the supply
was very scarce, even though she found plenty for several meals, she
would never gather any ahead.

"I remember that she used to think it very silly of me to burden myself
with extra food upon the march, though she was quite glad to eat it
with me, if the way chanced to be barren of sustenance."

"Then you knew your mother, Tarzan?" asked D'Arnot, in surprise.

"Yes. She was a great, fine ape, larger than I, and weighing twice as
much."

"And your father?" asked D'Arnot.

"I did not know him. Kala told me he was a white ape, and hairless
like myself. I know now that he must have been a white man."

D'Arnot looked long and earnestly at his companion.

"Tarzan," he said at length, "it is impossible that the ape, Kala, was
your mother. If such a thing can be, which I doubt, you would have
inherited some of the characteristics of the ape, but you have not--you
are pure man, and, I should say, the offspring of highly bred and
intelligent parents. Have you not the slightest clue to your past?"

"Not the slightest," replied Tarzan.

"No writings in the cabin that might have told something of the lives
of its original inmates?"

"I have read everything that was in the cabin with the exception of one
book which I know now to be written in a language other than English.
Possibly you can read it."

Tarzan fished the little black diary from the bottom of his quiver, and
handed it to his companion.

D'Arnot glanced at the title page.

"It is the diary of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, an English nobleman,
and it is written in French," he said.

Then he p