 This is the story of a man who never belonged anywhere whose backyard is the world whose ways of life are the dreams of escape for those who want action but never find it. The man John Steele adventurer. Mighty few saints in this world, but I think I may have been privileged to meet one. I'd like you to meet him too, a most unusual gent. He gave up everything to practice for a lot of his preach. He practices love. That's right, love. The kind of love that loves life, the highest kind, because it not only comes from the heart, it comes as much from the mind. I'm talking a lot about Dr. Manver, Dr. Herbert Manver. The man some people call the modern saint, but I never expected to meet him on the 33rd floor of the modern office building right off Times Square. Dr. Manver, the great medical missionary, would take in modern medicine into the worst fever spot of Dr. Seppler. What was he doing here? The sign says Tefford Robber, Tefford Robber Company. Durban Jobar, dammit, I know they're on the war path. I don't care what the cables cost, find him. Or maybe you will. Huh? Mander, what's this all about? You're at Liberty? What have you got to do with Dr. Mander? You're at Liberty, free to accept the commission. I got this telegram telling me to... This is the business office, minutes, minutes, you're wasting minutes. That's just the point. The telegram said to come here, this building, this floor urgent concerning Dr. Mander. This is the business office, Robber Company. What's this got to do with Mander? Or am I in the wrong place? I sent the telegram. I still don't understand. I'm Tefford. You've been recommended. Can you leave this minute? Leave for where? That's Tefford. Huh? None? No, no, it's bad. It's very bad, yes. I have a man, Miss Jones, but keep trying. I have the man here, but I don't know if it'll work out. You don't know him. No, what? I just come in off a freight boat. Maybe you're not the man. Money's no object, but no man in his right mind. I'll be frank. No, never. I shouldn't expect no. Not just for money alone. No man, what? You have to believe, feel. What are you talking about? You'd have to know. Huh? Money does not do you much good if you never got back out alive. All the money in the world paid you here. Sorry, sorry, Steve. I guess I've been wasting your time. Sorry. That door. Just a minute. Yes, time's money. I always say that. We'll do something about your time. Yeah. Miss Jones, make out a check to Mr. Steele, a small check for his time and coming up here. Yes, on his way out. And finally, Cape Town authorities again. Now look. No hard feelings, no hard feelings. I'm no messenger boy. You pay by the hour. We're busy here. Sorry, impression unintended. I don't like being summoned and dismissed. No, no. But I don't even know what I'm supposed to be here about. Exactly why I don't think you're the man I want. Mander is gone. Understand? Mander, Dr. Herbert Mander. I happen to think he's the greatest man alive. I need a man who agrees. So do a lot of people. I happen to be the man he relies on to keep him going in his work. Oh, I send him money, drugs, food, building supplies. Well, I didn't know. A man like him deserves my support. He deserves everybody's support. Yeah, sure. Or are you like a lot of other people? You think I just take rubber out, send nothing back in. You send Dr. Mander in to help the natives. You don't send a man like Mander. Oh, he's a saint. You have as much command over him as you have over the air. Uh-huh. Do you think you or I or do you think anybody can create a saint? That'd be nice if we could. No. Many years ago, I was young prospecting Africa, Kenya, Gold Coast, Equatorial, prospecting for minerals, diamonds on the look for a buck. Instead, I found rubber, perfect spot for rubber. And I found him. Mander, struggling, starving, living with the natives, T.T. country, the fly, fever, sleeping sickness, living with them, starving with them, fighting to help them, fighting dirt, ignorance, disease, with as hard as bare hands. No medicine, no nurses, no help, not even a decent building for his hospital. Living on the banks of the river in a moldy hut made of old tin cans and lined up for a mile down the river, coming from a thousand miles around poor, sick, jungle people, sick, ignorant, frightened, with dying babies in their hands, sick, all of them too sick to walk, let alone to work, learn, build. As I found them, and I swore, I swore if I was lucky, if I was ever lucky enough to make a nickel out of it, out of rubber, I wasn't going to take it all out to give part of it to him. You've fairly been supporting him all these years. No medals, no publicity, not me, call it good business. I don't want anyone to know I've contributed to him. Then how do you expect me to know? I only expected you to know about him. I do. Now he's disappeared, is that it? Yes. Mao Mao? I'm afraid. Think of Mao Mao's who's done them in? No news, he hasn't sent me a request in weeks. Here, every week he sends me a request for food, drugs, whatever he needs at the hospital. Nothing, weeks, months. I've been through Africa, Tefford. I know what the Bush people think of the doctor. Know about the Mao Mao? I've heard about them too. Even away where I was, I heard they'd sworn to kill all white men. They're wild, they're full of kill. Even him? They kill their brothers and sisters. Yeah, I guess they would kill them. I'm old steel, I'm getting on. You don't have to apologize. All I want is my expenses. I'd consider it a privilege to go in and find out what's happened to him. It was. It would be a privilege to do something for a man like Mander, who all his life had been giving all he had to get. Tefford wrote me a check, called his girl, and an hour I was at Idlewild. Tefford's name was magic. An hour and 10 minutes later, I was airborne. Food, clothes, and medical supplies were leading London non-stop for Cape Town by jet. 48 hours later, I was going upriver in an aided dugout. The shallow muddy Kuala Lumpur River, a snake down with a fever-ridden equatorial jungle. A canoe boy wore a white ivory crucifix hand car. He gleamed in the sun against his sweating dark brown skin. I was sitting facing front, my back to him. He was a kuru, and his name was Joe. He spoke a little English, and all the way upriver, I'd been trying to throw a conversation back to him, but he didn't answer. I kept trying to get some information out of him, a lot doc Mander in the Mauo Maui, and what might be happening around here. But the denser the jungle got, the quieter he got to. I remembered hearing about the Mauo Maui, about their secret society of blood, pollinated you'd known and have been friendly with, even for years, like suddenly, without warning, cut your throat. I took a chance on tipping, turned around to face him. His expression didn't change, but I somehow felt safe, and looking at his little white ivory crucifix, I sat for a minute facing him. Oh, Juan, you didn't make it. I thought, uh, well, it's hand carved. Doctor, Dr. Mander, he made it, huh? He's that good with his hands too. Doctor, him say where. Doctor, him say show. Old man, brother me. Yeah. Doctor, him good. Something hit close. I looked down, a long arrow sticking into the side of the canoe. Then I saw it, another arrow sticking out of him, out of his chest, sticking out of a red rim hole, trickling down, blood on the crucifix. The pastor, give me, no, no, don't try to pull the arrow out of his chest. Don't let it slip. I'll paddle it. I tell you, now sit down. Just hold on. Doctor, I'll get you to the doctor. No, no doctor. Send yourself. Doctor, good. Doctor, take she up. I'll get you to the doctor. Doctor, wrong. Doctor, no good. Doctor, say we all brother. Teach, teach, we all men brother. Mama, shoot. Mama, not brother me. Sure, and a piece of the unknown. There's much of these when in a moment we hear more in the story of John Steele, adventurer. With the arrow in him and his hands tied on the canoe sites. So tight I could see the knuckles turn gray. And over and over he kept up the same half delirious chant. I couldn't stop him and I couldn't shut it out of my ears. I kept paddling to the rhythm of that chant, the rhythm of hate. Doctor wrong. Doctor, not good. I knew what that could mean. I know what it could mean out here in the jungle where magic had always meant deletion, blind and unthinking belief in devils and demons, in the power of evil. What it could mean now for a man like Dr. Manners who had dedicated his whole life to proving man could and should live by the power of good. And I had something else to think about. The river broken too, too equal forks. Joe, Joe, you gotta help me now. The river up ahead. Which way? You know the river forks? Well, come on, you're gonna tell me. Trying to get to the doc's hospital. Doc's place. Doctor wrong. Doctor, not good. He went out cold and I thought that canoe to keep it balanced. He lay in the bottom and the arrow was stuck up high out of his chest. I looked back front. I smelled smoke, kerosene smoke. Then I saw the smoke rise over the fork of the river to the left. I didn't know what it meant and I still didn't know which way to take. Then I heard something far off in the bush. Music. Someone was playing. Someone who knew how was making music in the stinking hot jungle wilderness. Steering me by the sound of a violin. Mr. Teppard sent me out here. Joe, they've hurt you, sir. You're Dr. Manners, aren't you? Later. Take it, sir, the violin. All right, all right. Be careful. Stay in the canoe. Still opposed. It wasn't quick. No, here. Take back your fiddle. Let me carry it. Steady the boat again. Again, squeeze. I'm younger than you, doc. Let me carry it. What we must do, we each must do. Be careful, Mr. Steele. The path to the hospital is steep. The way the path is steep. Stone steps. Stone that had been cut by hand, the doc's hands, like everything else. All the low one-story buildings are the world-famous hospital he built here. I climbed up the steps from the river behind me. The steps leveled off and became a flagstone path, winding in and out of the shade of huge temperate trees, going past the crude log-cabin hospital buildings. On the porches of each log-cabin and the hospital compound, sick and bandaged native raised their heads off clean straw pallets. They started to mumble thanks and thank yous to the doc. But when they saw the arrow quivering out of Joe's chest, their eyes bulged and their faces froze in fear. I knew what they were afraid of. The Mao Mao was getting the same treatment that they were caught here. Open. Open, please. Is this your surgery? If you please. Unless you're a physician? No. Then you will please wait for me where you are. I've got to talk to you, doctor. Life is always more important to save a life, sir. This is about yours. To save yours. Fight tempered sent me. Olga, Ms. Kinov, Ms. Gala, Kinovine, quick. For the land. For the sterilizer. I don't like to watch operations. I wouldn't want to even on the finest equipped operating room. And I looked hopeless in there in the surgical cabin. Then I remembered what I'd heard of the doc's amazing record of successes. I remember the hundreds of Count Veles and natives I'd seen on the porches of the Mao cabin wards coming up here. I took a stroll around. I wanted to see more of Kurao Rao. I started to go past the ward buildings. Most of the bandaged natives I'd seen a few minutes ago were gone. Only the most seriously ill were still lying on the straw pallets. I looked down towards the stone steps and I saw why. Hoveling and crawling, going down the steps. Running. They were running away. Their faces gray with fright. I'd forgotten how scared they'd look when they'd seen the arrows sticking out of Joe. Men, women and children. Leading. Afraid of the Mao Mao. Doc. Later. The canoe men, Joe. Joe's not good. You don't understand. They're leading. Who? All your native patients. Jima. Mugo. Doc, I've got to talk to you. Jima. Jima, come here please. I'm sorry, Doc. Afraid they're all gone. Your nurses too. I must go after them. They're afraid. Won't do any good. They're sick. Doc, please. They cannot go. They've not been discharged. Played. Don't you understand? Yes. Look, Doc. I've come 7,000 miles, but I'm not here to try and order you. I must go see Joe. Doc, please. I waited on the porch. I waited and watched the twilight fade into deep, jet African black. And in the blackness all around, not a thing stirred. Not a night bird, animal or insect moved. There were men around. Men I couldn't see. The quiet told me that, but they could see me. I moved into the darkest corner of the porch, awaiting the screen door and the lights streaming out from the kerosene lamps that were dark surgical lights. It's too quiet, Doc. I've got to talk to you. I was afraid to pull the arrow. The long it would not matter. They poisoned the arrows. You've got to go before they get you. I'm all alone. You hear me? Tefford's worried. It was so like so when I came. A lot of people are worried about you. Here it was so when I began. You did your best. It's impossible. Impossible to stay on. All the more reason. Huh? They also said it was so when I came. It's not your fault. Things have changed. Life does not. Huh? Are you afraid? I'm afraid. But you will help me. They're not going? Joe is dead. In the jungle it's necessary to bury quickly. At night? At sunrise. Joe will have proper Christian burial. He will help me then to carry the box. Where? The cemetery, the proper burial ground. Where is that? Across the river. That's where the arrow came from. Across the air, the mo-mo. Joe will help proper burial. I trust you will find a bed to sleep. I have some carpentry to attend to. Then I must play the violin and pray. Doc, never mind. Pretty, Mr. Steele. Men torture, men scourge, men kill. He who died died on the cross. Teach men to love. The love, Mr. Steele, is not to run. Can love be a fugitive? It is as much reason as it is feeling. You are an intelligent man. Thanks. Pity. We must pity evil. A lot of good that'll do against spears and arrows. I shall go on as I have. If what we believe is good, it is as good here as anywhere. There's no future otherwise. In the dark, along the flagstone path. I didn't say anything, but I clicked off the safety on my gun and I followed him on tiptoe. I followed into what turned out to be a carpentry shed. I sat down under a tree and put the gun across my knee. I must have dosed off. The sawing had stopped. He was playing his violin. I got to my feet and ran over to the shed. The window was gone, smashed by an arrow. I held my gun high, but all I could see was jungle black. I ran around to the lighted door of the shed. Then I saw it, sprawled inside. Sprawled over the fresh-finished coffin. Suspense and action. One leads to the other. And the result we'll hear in a moment with the climax of another adventure with John Steele. I ran into the shed and for a second I thought the arrow had got him. I thought Doc was dead. But he got to his feet for where he'd fallen over the coffin. Shock. You all right? I am. But not the violin, huh? The arrow went through. The shock of the impact. Made your trip. A great loss. Right through the back of the violin. Yeah, I see. A great loss. However, although I've never made a violin before. Oh, but, Mike, you're not going to start one now. No. No. You just time enough to shave and dress. Now we must prepare to lay away Joe. Fresh coffin across the compound and I helped lift Joe in. Then we went to the log cabin he used for personal quarters. He fed his pet cat and dog and a lot of jungle animals he whistled around them. Then he shewed the antelope monkeys and birds away. We shaved and changed our clothes. He picked up his worn old Bible. We sholdered the coffin and started down the long stone steps to the river. I kept my gun ready and my free hand and every time the breeze made bushes and branches move. I had to hold myself back from squeezing a gun load. I knew the arrows would come without warning. Only the bow strings of the kill happy Mao Mao's would make any sound. We loaded the coffin into the canoe. Dawn was lighting the sky. We started paddling over toward the other side. You're right, Mao. When we get there. Yes. If we get there. You thought about it, Ray? Usually there's help. Death is common here despite of all we can do. Much help. Yes. We will have to dig. Stop. Stop. Don't see outside. Up on the top river bank by that rock. Continue, please. Can I see them behind that rock? As you are. Continue paddling, please. And there. Over there, too. They're all alone. We're still in the dark with the dawns behind them. They don't realize we can see them. Always there is help to dig. Doc, now look. Look, Doc. I tell you, I can see them. With me, please. Raise my eye. I don't want a poison arrow through me. You must not kill. They've got that reputation. Hell, after them. No one has that right. They killed this guy in the box. The first head I see pop up over there. I pop off at him. You were killed? Call it self-defense. You will have one shot. Huh? How many arrows do you think they can release? Why do you think they haven't shot yet? What? They're not afraid of one gun. They would be more afraid if you put down the gun. They would, huh? They're not all, Mar-Mao. No, huh? Only a small percentage among them have taken the blood oath to kill. And why they all run from you, from your hospital? You've given your life to helping them. Why they leave you? It is a fever. Huh? Not of the body, but the mind. Afraid? You mean they're afraid? An old fever. Now an hour time, it spreads again. Oh, afraid of the few fanatics among them? Put down the gun. In the bottom where it cannot be seen. That must be crazy. The false comfort. Real crazy. An instrument of death. Now, with your permission, we will go to shore. We must bury Joe. More, lift higher. Now, through here, there's a path to the cemetery. Cemetery? Yeah, Doc. Good place to end it. We carried the coffin in through the bush for what seemed a mile. I kept my eyes moving that I saw no sign of the natives. Mar-Mao's or any other kind. I kept thinking of what the Doc said. Only a small percentage were killer fanatics. Maybe. Yeah, sure. But Mar-Mao's don't wear uniform. How do you tell? Way down the bottom of the hill. They're all there. Digging. We have help. They dig the grave. Take a better look, Doc. Oh, I'm too steep. We missed these two on the far way around through the trees. We came down toward where they were digging. They were shoveling dirt into one of the graves. Now there were only two empty graves. We put the coffin down across the two chambers that were waiting. And Doc Demander went up toward the men. He gave me a warning look to stay behind. What have you done? You dug three graves. Now you shovel up one again. Who is in this grave? Doc, me. He should follow you. Please, please. No, you must not kill this man. Wrong. Wrong to kill. He is my, which, which want to live. I forgive him for shooting at me. Fill up this second grave. Steel. Is it okay? Yes. Go on the other side of this man. Protect him? They know the service is sacred to me. If I permit him beside me now, they will never harm him. Lord Joe's coffin. Repeat after me. Blessed are the poor in spirit. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn. For they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek. For they shall inherit the earth. We're taking a stand by for adventure with John Steel. And in a moment, John Steel returns with more of his story. John Steel on this transcribed adventure was Don Douglas. Script was by Peter Irving. And the entire production was under the direction of Robert Monroe. Of course, all names and characters heard are fictitious. And any similarity to person's living or dead is purely coincidental. But here again is John Steel. Well, friends, that's it. The dust of Kurao Rao. A story of how I met the greatest man I know who lives as he preaches, even when it could cost him his life. The Mao Mao's may still be dangerous, but not in his part of the country. Not as long as Dr. Mander keeps alive the ancient truth that love for life is stronger in the long run than the urge to kill. It's a lesson 2,000 years old. This is John Steel reminding you that no matter where you are, no matter what you do, adventure is the doing. The telling comes later.