 From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery, and violence comes one of the most colorful figures of all time. Transcribed from the immortal pen of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Tarzan, the bronzed white son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of Congo magic. The city of Port Zarota, deep in the Congo, is neither a port nor a city. But such are the strange contradictions of the jungle. The huddle settlement stands at the delta of a river that has long since dried up. And the pygmies and the stork men who live but a few days march from Port Zarota refer to it as the city. Actually, it is nothing more than a miserable collection of thatched native huts, sun-whitened government buildings, shabby barracks, and crumble dwellings. And yet the native authority court convenes there. And it was to this court that Tarzan had come three days before. Well, Captain Lawrence, I'm certainly glad that my duties in court are over. Yes, Tarzan. Court appearances are always tedious. But old Chris Morgan never would have been convicted without your testimony. Convicted? That's a horrible word. Oh, he headed coming to him all right? Yes, of course, but to be confined within the walls of a prison. Even the confines of a city like this one are intolerable to me. Yes, I know. I know you'll be off to your jungle in the morning, I suppose. Tonight, if you don't mind, I'll pick up my few belongings at your quarters, Captain Lawrence. And then I'll head for the coast. Well, you'll be making an awful liar of me. What? I'd promise the men at the club that I'd bring you around before you shoved off. Oh, you're most kind, Captain Lawrence, but I have no time for clubs and social gatherings. Oh, but they've heard so much of your activities and your remarkable life in the jungle, and all of them are at the club now, just standing around waiting for us. With a gin and tonic in each hand, eh? Honestly, Captain Lawrence, I think you English would find a place for a club and a bar in the middle of an erupting volcano. No, I wouldn't say that. Well, if you've said I'd come, I shall not make a liar out of you. Where is this club? Well, it just so happens that our path has accidentally brought us right to it. It's that, uh, largeish building on the corner. That building? Yes. I'd thought that the office of the Governor General. It's most imposing. Oh, for these parts, yes. But I can't very well go in there dressed in this leopard skin. Looks like a club in London's Mayfair. I have it. We'll sneak in the rear entrance, and I'll give you some clothes to wear. I just thought of an outfit that'll fit you as though you had it made in Seville Row. Now, let's have no more arguments, Tarzan. You look perfect in the outfit. Good black trousers and a white jacket. I feel as though I should be the club steward. Listen, matter of fact, they were made for the club steward. A chap I'd persuaded to come over here. It was a huge man who worked for me at home, but he was drunk when he got off the boat at Mombasa, and I never did manage to sober him up. Oh, what did you do? Well, I gave him his passage money at home, finally lined up another man. A dwarf, a sort of misfit. And there's a cracking job. Good bartender, excellent servant. You'll get a boot out of shorty. You don't suppose you'll resent my wearing the uniform of his trade, do you? Oh, I don't think so. He's very proud of the livery we've finally got for him. As a matter of fact, it's the same as you're wearing. Only about 20 sizes smaller. Come on, Tarzan. We can slip into the bar through this door. That's a good story, Clive. What a story. Oh, I say, here's Captain Lawrence and his gas. Good evening, gentlemen. I'd like you to meet Tarzan. Oh, Tarzan, Mr. Bainbridge, Major Stanton, Lord Essex, Mr. Mooney, and Mr. Richards, aren't you? So this is Tarzan, eh? Looks more like an outsized bartender to me. That isn't very funny, Mr. Mooney. Just happens that Tarzan had no fitting clothes with him. We fixed him up with this outfit. We ordered for that chap who didn't pan out. I apologize for not being properly garbed for your splendid club. Oh, yeah. Not at all, not at all. All right. It should make quite a story. Tarzan ordered the jungle dress like a flug. He said, hey, Mooney. No, no, it's all right, Captain Lawrence. It's all right. I say, shorty, could we have some drinks? Be right with you, Captain. Yeah, climb up on that egg crate and mix us some gin and tonic, shorty, and bring them over to our table over here. I'll fetch them. You'll do nothing of those sort, Lawrence. We're entitled to a steward who can serve our drinks, just because you hired half a man. I'm bringing your drinks, gentlemen. Mooney, I'll stand for no more of this. Oh, no. It was just a joke. That's what life's for, jokes. At least I've got to admit that shorty's good for a few laughs. You know, whenever I see him running on those little bandy legs... Doesn't he resent being called shorty? Hasn't he a regular name? He's coming with your drink now. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, he's that clumsy fool. Dropping Tarzan's drink is probably all over the floor. Terribly. Sorry, sir. I must have tripped. You tripped, all right. You stuck your foot directly in his path, Mooney. So what, huh? Someone should teach you manners. Well, you aren't the one that's going to do it. You're nothing but a stupid savage. In just a moment, we shall return to our story of Kongo magic. Captain Tarzan had been blinded with rage, furious at the loutish Mooney for having pecked on the defenseless dwarf. But the warning voice of Captain Lawrence had penetrated Tarzan's rage, and he had permitted Mooney to drop from his powerful hands before murder had been committed. Actually, the only serious injury was that inflicted upon Mooney's pride. It had resulted in Tarzan's detention in Port Zarota. Couldn't sleep, eh, Tarzan? I've always had difficulty sleeping indoors. Now, how much longer must I remain here in your club, Captain Lawrence? I don't know. Mooney's charged you with assault as a result of last night's little skirmish. You must remain either here in that infested jail until the case has been heard. I appreciate you having arranged for me to be kept prisoner here rather than in the jail, but I still find it unbearable. The whole city is laughing at the picture of Tarzan wearing a steward's uniform and remaining within the confines of a building. Oh, I don't think they're laughing at you. The natives always appear in our windows here. There must have been a dozen pygmies gathered out front this afternoon. I understand little of their dialect, but they kept pointing at me and making sounds of derision. Oh, it's just the other way, you know. In the past they've gotten on poor Shorty's nerves, too. So I guess it is my nerves. I suppose it's because I'm ashamed of myself for having lost my head. I wouldn't be too concerned with what you did to Mooney. There's no more than the rest of us have dreamed about doing for months now. He's a rumsot. How did you happen to take him into your club? Well, there's really no place for a chap to go here. When he first arrived, he seemed all right. He's not a British here, but we thought... Help! Help! Don't let them kill me! Save me! Shorty! Shorty, what is it? Who's been frightening you? I don't know. They wanted to kill me. They had a knife. Don't let them kill me, sir. Please. Now, make sense, man. Now, come down and tell us what happened. I went to bed early. You see, Darsons are these kind gentlemen gave me a room in the back of the club. Yes, yes, I understand. Go ahead. Well, sir, I went to bed early. I locked my door and all my windows, same as I always do. While I was dreaming, I... I was dreaming that I wasn't a dwarf anymore. I was tall and handsome, like you, Darsons. Get to the point, Shorty. Oh, yes, Captain. Well, suddenly, maybe I was dreaming. I thought I heard my door open. I tried to shake the sleep from my eyes, but before I knew what hit me, someone was on top of me. I saw a knife flashing. That's all I remember. I guess I fainted. Turn around, Shorty. Huh? Turn around. Thank you. Look, Captain Lawrence, why, someone's cut a great hank of hair from the back of Shorty's head. No one wanted to kill him. It was someone's idea of a great joke. Mooney, I suppose. Would he have access to Shorty's room? He lives here at the club, and one key fits all the doors. Mooney blames me for what happened last night, but I don't think... Captain Lawrence, I think perhaps you'd better take me to the jail until it's time for my trial. Because the next time I tangle with Mr. Mooney, I may not stop Short of Murder. But once again, the calm voice of Captain Lawrence prevailed upon Tarzan, and he remained at the club, sworn to remain a voluntary prisoner until the assault case came to trial. Captain Lawrence tried to use his influence to gain a speedy trial, but in equatorial countries, no one is in a great hurry, and the days dragged on. Oh, good morning, Tarzan, sir. Good morning, Shorty. The members all gone? Yes, sir. I just finished serving Mr. Mooney's breakfast, sir. He was the last one. You just missed him. I waited until I thought everyone would be gone. What can I fix for your breakfast, sir? Some eggs, maybe? I've got some nice, fresh ones. A native just brought around. Shorty, where did that come from? What's that? That small figure behind you on the back bar, that tiny doll dressed like we're dressed. I never saw it before, and it wasn't there when I polished the glasses earlier. It looks like me, sir. Did you leave the room while Mr. Mooney was here? I went to the kitchen to get him some more coffee. Another of his jokes, I guess. Look, look, sir, that's my hair on this little figure. I know what it is now. It's a native voodoo. That's what someone wants you to think, I guess. That's what it is. They have to use the hair of the person it's supposed to be. It's what Mr. Mooney calls an effigy, sir, and that pin that stuck through it. You know what that means? No, what does it mean? It means that I'm going to die. That's what it means. It's Kongo magic. And who told you about this Kongo magic? Mr. Mooney told me. He called it a blasted shape. It's getting the living daylight out of poor Shorty. But I say, where is Mooney now? I don't know. He's notified that the rest of us to be here. Perhaps he won't show up at all. He's not the first blustering coward I've encountered. I said there's someone ringing the doorbell. Who would it be at this hour? Well, the members all have keys. Shall I go? No, Shorty's in the hall. He just manages to reach the door now. He seems to just manage everything. He's all right. Cheerio, fellows, cheerio. I'm getting the sound just like the rest of you. I say, Mooney, was that you ringing the doorbell? Yeah, what about it? You might save Shorty the trouble of running to the door for you. It just so happens that I lost my key a couple of nights ago. What? I lost my key. It isn't going to hurt Shorty to answer the bell a couple of times until I get a chance to have a new one. If you really did lose your key, maybe I've come to some wrong conclusions. About what? About this. A voodoo doll, dressed like a club steward. Where'd it come from? That's what I was going to ask you, Mr. Mooney. Well, I wouldn't know. I thought you might. It was left on Shorty's bar with a pin stuck through it. Well, I'll wait. Wait a minute. I don't know who did it. The effigy is decorated with hair someone took from Shorty's scalp when he told me you had spun tails of native voodoo to him. I thought perhaps you... Wait a minute. They're crying out loud. I wouldn't do a thing like that. I know what voodoo means in Africa. Oh, maybe I go in for a practical joke once in a while, but I wouldn't do that to the poor little son of a gun. I... I believe you. You speak with a ton of honesty. But what could the natives have against an inconspicuous white dwarf? Do you suppose that steward I turned down might have stayed in Africa? And behold, McGregigan, Shorty, he's figuring he's latched under the job that should have been his, you mean? That's it. That's exactly what's happened. He's learned about this Congo magic and he's... Watch out! That's a dart. Someone threw a dart right through that open window over there. Miss Tarzan's hit by more than an inch. Tarzan, shall we go out and have a look and go out in the street and see who did that? I can't join you. I have promised not to leave the building. No. It wouldn't do any good anyway. At this time, the native who threw it could be lost in a crowd of a hundred natives. That's our big disciplinarian problem here. I'd like you to examine that dart. Perhaps I can tell by its design what tribe of natives. And watch out! There's a big spider on the wall right by the dart. Oh, this blasted country's infested with the dart. Look! Huh? The spider grazed the dart with its leg and then fell to the ground. Hey! Well, that spider's dead. And the dart is a poison one. And only the jungle people know of such virulent poisons. Only... We apologize for everything we've suspected you of. Oh, that's all right. That's all right. I guess the dart clears that rejected steward also. But Shorty's not even in the room. If natives were after Shorty for some reason, why should they fire at Tarzan? The answers to our questions remain with him who shot the dart. And by this time, he's on his way to his jungle home. Well, what are we waiting for then? Come on, let's follow him. I am not permitted to leave Port Sarota. I have a court case pending against me. Oh, but this is serious. I'll withdraw the charges. Good. Good. We'll collect what we need for a small safari and we shall leave tonight. But I warn you, the people who resort to poison darts shot through a blowgun from ambush will spare no efforts to see that our safari ends in disaster. We'll return with the exciting inclusion of Kongo magic in just a moment. By midnight, the materials for the safari had been rounded up and the men who were about to leave on the dangerous mission stood outside the clubhouse, ready to take their departure. I'm sorry I can't be going with you, Tarzan, but my official duties keep me here. I understand, Captain Lawrence. We shall miss you, but I think we can manage. I'd still keep a weather eye on Mooney. I don't trust him. I think he's all right, but my weather eye is always open. Well, I'm all set to go. Oh, there you are, Tarzan. I hardly recognized you in those jungle talks. I have no need of civilization's clothes where we're going. Where are we going? To the pygmy country about two days' march from here. Oh, then you think it was the pygmies, Tarzan? I'm reasonably sure of it. I found the impression of a box under the window. That a man of ordinary stature would have had no need to stand on anything to reach through that window. The blowgun is their weapon. And one thing more. Yeah? In looking for burrows for a safari, I found that every pygmy in this city has suddenly disappeared. What? It's true. This is mixed up with something bigger than any of us understands. Yeah, we aren't making very good time, Tarzan. It's the head man leading the safari. I think his pack is too heavy. Oh, it's bulky, but it shouldn't weigh very much. Well, that's why I pack myself. Well, there's some reason for his slow pace. Maniapara! Tarzan? Yes. We've been marching now for several hours, yet we've covered little distance. Why do you set such a slow pace? Pack Maniapara carry. Much heavy. Oh, none. Since I'm carrying a pack as heavy as that myself. Just a minute, Moniapara. Maniapara, take the pack off. Let me feel it. There. Now Tarzan's sea is heavy. Yes, it is heavy. It's very heavy. Is this some trick, Moni? Well, if it is a trick, it's not mine. I told you, I packed it myself. All right, I'll open it and see what's inside. Maniapara, loosen other strap. Okay, now, throw that flap back. Shorty! Shorty! What in the world made you hide inside that pack? Please, please, sir, I knew you wouldn't take me along if I asked. No one ever thinks I can do the work of a full-grown man. But this is my fight, sir. I'm the one they want to kill. It's my duty to come along. Can you beat that? Please, please don't send me back, Tarzan. It's my one chance to prove that I'm a real man. I shall not send you back, Shorty. You shall have a chance to prove that you are the equal of any man, regardless of size. And so the safari plunged on. Tarzan, Moni, Shorty and the native porters and bearers. But as the second days marched through to a close and the land of the pygmies grew near, a strange silence fell in the jungle. The natives glanced nervously over their shoulders as they walked, and Moni and Shorty watched Tarzan with apprehensive eyes. What does it mean? The silence? Yeah. It means there's a natural barrier protecting their village or that they have some special plan for their attack. Maybe, maybe they're around us now, waiting in the trees until they get a good shot at us. No, no, no, the wind is favorable and I've not caught their scent. What can we do if they attack us with those blow guns? Their range with that weapon is limited. We must be careful as they draw close enough to use them before we're aware of their presence, though. Sure, spooky walking along this trail. Those steep palaces on each side, we wouldn't have a chance if they decide to attack us. Oh, this is the reason they've had no need to attack us before this. Yeah, a river. It's wide, too. How can we cross it? Well, I think I could swim across. Perhaps it'd be best if I went ahead alone though. No, no, Tarzan. You promised me I could help, that I'd have a chance to prove myself a man. So I did. We'll have to build a raft, I guess. Tarzan, Tarzan, we find raft hidden in trees. Well, that's a break. It sure is. It's a real break. Perhaps this good fortune is not an accident. And we have no time for questioning our luck. We will board the raft and hope that we may reach the other side without incident. Push with your pull as hard as you can. Yeah. The sooner we reach the shell of the trees and the other side, the better off we'll be. We'll go back later for other barrels. You can bring as many as this small raft we'll carry on the next trip. Look, Tarzan, war canoes from behind the tall grass. Hold on, men. The shore is our only hope. They can't reach us from where they are with their blowguns, can they? I don't think so. But the pygmies are pretty good marksmen with those short bows they carry. They're gaining on us, Tarzan. Hey, wait, look. Look, another canoe from the shore, right where we're headed. Yes. Everyone seems to have their chief and their medicine man in there. Hey, they're firing their arrows. Tarzan, watch out! There's a hoop! Shorty! He's badly hurt. He jumped right in front of you. I know. The arrow would have struck me if he hadn't jumped in its path. Mooney, you'll have to care for Shorty. Hold it. Man, you're part of it. Pull as best you can by yourself. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Where are you going? I'm going over the side. Our only hope lies in my ability to swim underwater. See, Tarzan? No. No, Shorty. All I can see is they're working. It was drawn closer. Why not? Yes, yes. Keep heading for shore. There's only one canoe in that direction. One of the big shots. Man, they're not shooting at us. Hey, look! Look! Tarzan priming you, Chief. Tell me what's happening. All right, Shorty. Tarzan's throwing three or four of them overboard. Now, wait. He's got his knife at the Chief's back. He's forcing him to give some sort of order. Hey, what's that Chief saying? He tells them to stop shooting, not to hurt Whiteman. Shorty, you're bleeding pretty badly. We didn't bring the medical supplies on this trip. There just wasn't room. I know. Hey, what's he saying now? Tell everyone, come to him right away. Tarzan still has knife against his back. Hold Machawi also. Machawi? Week's doctor. He's one with feather headness. Well, come on, let's join the party. Tarzan is the upper hand, at least for the moment. All weapons, stop fighting. What more you want? I want to know why your men fired at Shorty. Over there in the city of Port Zarrota and why we've been attacked here. I tell you, we try to kill Dwarf so we get magic. Shorty's magic? Wait, we'll find out what it's all about. What magic do you think the White Dwarf has? He, Dwarf, one minute, next minute, a giant. Dwarf has secret. Pick me one. They make selves big when enemy come. Oh, you are mistaken, Chief. Shorty has no secret for making himself into a giant. Has magic. One hour man in town look through window many days. See small man in black trousers, white jacket, one minute, Dwarf, next minute, giant. Oh, I see. Huh? What do you see, Tarzan? Don't know if I can make it out. Natives staring through the window of the club shorty and his stewards outfit. Later they saw me dressed in the same kind of uniform. To them, we were one man. To them, it was magic. Well, what do you know? That'd be funny if it wasn't so sad. Is there someone here who saw this magic? Manupa here, see it? This man? Manupa, do you see the Dwarf flying in the ground over there? Dio. Take a good look at him. Now, look at me. And you not see that he was the small man in dark trousers and white jacket and that I was the large man in the same kind of clothing? Is true. So was not voodoo. We sorry, give no more trouble. Tarzan, Tarzan, why am I moving? Shorty, he dying. Oh, Shorty. Oh, Shorty, no, you can't die. You saved my life and I'm going to save yours, Shorty. I'm not Shorty. I'm Arnold. Arnold, like my mother named me. I'm not Shorty. I'm tall. Tall and handsome. I'm a hero. I saved a man's life. I'm a hero. I proved that I was a real man. As much of a man as... He's dead. Well anyway, he died with a smile on his face. Yes. For in his last moments he was no longer a Dwarf and a misfit. He was a member of a jungle safari. He'd taken part in a savage battle. And he'd saved a life. And in his mind's eye he was tall and handsome. This is the magic of the Congo. We'll return with a hint about our next story of Tarzan in just a moment. A conservative English barrister comes to Africa to persuade Tarzan to forsake the jungle and come to England. A cultured American woman arrives in the dark continent with her charming daughter on a trip around the world. A native potentate returns home. They are all ordinary people until they fall victim of the jungle heat. Which is the title of our next story of Tarzan. Tarzan, the transcribed creation of the famous Edgar Rice Burroughs is produced by Walter White Jr. prepared for radio by Bud Lesser with original music by Albert Lesser. This is a Commodore production.