nd a convenient bowlder and pulled his employer to a place beside him.
The murmur grew louder, and presently Hardin could distinguish a shrill jabber which told him that the voices came from a number of apemen, who were all talking at once, as was their custom when aroused.
At the end of a few minutes they came into view, a dozen of them; squat, powerful, hairy creatures, red-brown in color, with apelike limbs, and perfectly naked save for their sirats, or loin clothes. In their hands they carried spears and clubs, and as they ambled along they jabbered at each other excitedly.
Hardin's eyes ran over them almost unseeingly. He had eyes for no one except the man and woman--especially the woman--who walked in their midst. He could have picked that golden head out of a thousand. It was his wife, walking with her hands tied behind her back, and by her side walked her uncle, Doctor Thorold Dumont, similarly bound.
For a little, too dumfounded at the sight even to breathe, Hardin started
A rather odd little pulp adventure tale.
The tale follows the adventures of a man who is primarily a banker, but has more than enough time to take a seaplane to a deserted island with his wife, his wife's uncle, and their servant/friend/Man Friday and research a tribe so recently evolved from apes they are suspected to still have tails.
I don't want to take away from the fun, but I suspect this is the first time in literary history, erstwhile explorers ended up being a sacrifice to a volcano god. We surely know it wasn't the last.
The action flows quickly and its length is just right for an hour's diversion.
C. Alan Loewen