 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 the female of the species. For once, Tarzan's life was peaceful and uncomplicated. The dread tarmungane, the white men, had not appeared in the jungle for many moons. Wappy, the antelope, Barra the deer, and Horta the boar, waxed fat, supplying fine meat. And in the fields, the coffee corn of the Punya tribe grew tall. Tarzan remained with the Punyas, fishing and hunting and resting. His face wore a contented smile as he walked along a narrow path and entered the village. The smile broke into a broad grin as he paused before Sui, a young native girl. Well, Sui, looks as though you have a new pet. Yes, I can see it's a bird. A green eagle? Oh, no, Sui, the bird is a parrot. Yes, sometimes people teach them to talk. No, I mean it. There aren't many around here. I might have caught one and taught it to talk myself. I've seen it. Oh, yes, I thought so. This bird is a stranger to this country. What does he mean? He's escaped from somewhere and flown here. See, he has a band about his leg. Now, he looks like a bachelor to me. He has no worried expression about his eyes. It's Sunday, Tarzan. A parrot will imitate anyone's language. I wonder what people owned him. Perhaps he comes from a Bantu tribe. Jumbo? I guess not. Maybe he was a pet at the office of the French consulate. I'm not ready to give up yet. He may have belonged to a bore or an Englishman. Big rotting. Hello! If I had him for one month, I could teach him to say everything. Sui, do I own anything for which you would like to trade this bird? Perhaps you'd like this amulet of bronze? You Tarzan want to make a gift of amulet to Sui. She'd be much happy. But even without a gift, a parrot is Tarzan's. Sui gives Tarzan anything she owns. Thank you, Sui. But the charm is yours. I'll just put it around your neck. Bill. Yes, Bill. That's a good name for the parrot. Can you say your name? Bill? Bill? You know what I'm going to do, Sui? I'm going to take him with me when I leave for my seacoast cabin. By the time I return, he shall know many, many words. Oh, Tarzan, leave soon? Perhaps when Goro the Moon rises over the Congo. Wait for Tarzan in jungle. What? A strange warrior. What are you talking about, Sui? Sui forgot. She was looking for cooking herbs when great tall stranger grabbed her arm. He said, send Tarzan to me. Why didn't he come into the village? Oh, he afraid upon your warriors. Here, you better take care of Bill for me. I shall find out the business of this great tall stranger. Well, be careful, Tarzan. I shall be aware of tricks. I don't like the sound of the warrior's actions. Don't worry about me, Bill. I shall be back for you. Tell me your name and your tribe. State your business with Tarzan. Ni mirabo, Senegalese. A Senegalese? What are you doing here, thousands of miles from Senegal? Mirabo's people choose him to come to Tarzan, Lord of Jungle. I do not know your people. Senegalese know of Tarzan. No Tarzan strong, brave, wise. Only Tarzan can help my people in time of big trouble. What is your big trouble? All young men of tribe disappear one at time. Soon, none but women, old men and babies left. Oh, but slave raiding has virtually been wiped out, particularly on the west coast. He's not slave raiders, Tarzan. Senegalese know way of slavers. No signs of struggle in forests. No horses or camels. Nothing. Well, whatever it is, it does not concern Tarzan. Talk to your government people in Dakar. Have been to Dakar, have been to Villa Cisneros, Spanish capital of Rio de Oro near Mirabo's tribe. Well? They send soldiers, not find anything. And how do you expect me to find anything? You, Tarzan. I would like to help you, but I've had many injuries lately. I hesitate because of the trek of thousands of miles required to reach your country. Both ways at Lagos to take Mirabo and Tarzan to Senegal. If Tarzan not come, no longer he be called Lord of Jungle. I shall come, Mirabo. Not to keep my title, but your respect. We shall return to Tarzan in just a moment. Wind blows, look like much trouble. We'll be docking within the hour. Surely the storm will not attack that quickly. Mirabo not think of ship and storm. He think of people in his village. Often during storm, Kahali spirits steal our young men. You said you didn't know who stole your young men. Who or what is this Kahali spirit? Only name, Tarzan. People not know what or who it is. Only that often in storm, Usha, the wind, singing new voice. And when storm has gone, gone to his Senegalese warrior. Usha, the wind sings in a new voice? What is this nonsense you speak, Mirabo? Mirabo speak with straight tongue. Song of Usha, sweet and strange. Like voice of angel, angel of death. We will not speak of it again. I cannot afford to be misled by your tribal superstitions. As soon as we disembark, we will go immediately to the district where the Kahali spirit steals your warriors. First Tarzan come to Senegal village for welcome feast. There will be time enough for feasts and celebrations when the Kahali is no more. That's good road, no Tarzan? Yes, for our country this road is fine. Clay is hard packed. Yet despite the work of cutting through the jungle growth, I always feel more comfortable when there is no path. As Tarzan and Mirabo travel north, path disappear. To Jigja was the last city we pass? One village at our remain before we reach border of Rio de Oro. And you believe the Kahali lies in that direction? Strange song of Kahali come from there. If only you would stick to facts instead of relying on your imagination. What was that? What was what? That strange far off sound. Mirabo hear nothing was Tarzan's imagination. There, I heard it again. Mirabo heard nothing. Perhaps Tarzan's hearing is more acute. I, I guess I heard the call of the Kahali. But if the strange music had not been a mere figment of Tarzan's imagination, at least it was heard no more that night nor the next. The last outpost of civilization, the tiny city of Atar, was left behind. Mile after mile of tangled forest was traversed. And then suddenly Mirabo's eyes were fixed and glassy. No, no, Mirabo, don't look like that. Mirabo, don't let it get you under its spell. I come, Kahali. Mirabo, catch him, Mirabo. I'll run after you until my legs desert my body. But although Tarzan ran with all his might, he could not overtake the entranced Mirabo. His legs ached from the running. His body was wet with heat and exhaustion. His tongue was swollen from thirst. And as he staggered on, the strange, beckoning call echoed in his ears, dinned in his brain, blotting out all else until Mirabo was forgotten and only the haunting melody existed. And as night descended on the Congo, the voice of Kahali finally led Tarzan to a small orchid-strewn clearing with a babbling spring. Water, wonderful water on an urn, wonderful silver urn. The water is as clear as a shaft of moonlight. Good. Over there, that soft bower of sweet-smelling boughs and moss. It is agreed that he is strong and handsome and has bronze skin, but we must bind him quickly and carry him within the walls of our fortress. He's no hurry. King Goliola of my tribe make him sleep long. It is a powerful opiate, but according to the stories, this Tarzan has the strength of a hundred men and he may awaken soon. Not awaken from Gingo, I'll walk you outside. Silenzio, Consuelo Del Vadas has spoken. The prisoner is to be bound and carried to the temple of justice. Mirabo. Yes, Buona. I cannot move. They helped Mirabo in chains. I will come to you. I'm in chains. And our prisoner is of heavy stone. How long has Tarzan been here? I don't know. I was just awakened by her groans. Or perhaps they were my own. My head swims even now. Tarzan and Mirabo drugged the powerful king of Wakioka, Mirabo, think. But the Wakioka, many moons from here, they are friendly to Tarzan. Us, not prisoners of Wakioka, the snakemen, though they everywhere in Africa, we prisoners of Kahali. Well, now we have some idea of how they lure their victims with some strange melody and then drug them. Perhaps we can find out the secret of their music in their ways and what they have done with your men. If we live long enough to find out... If someone comes. With man and chains, woman, this is equal. I would not attempt to escape. You are hardly likely to run away with these heavy chains and great luck securing us. What do you want with Mirabo and Tarzan? The Senegalese has to remain here. You are to come to our trial chamber, Tarzan. A trial chamber? See? I shall come willingly. When you stand before the court, Tarzan, I would advise you to be careful in your speech. There are some who would have you live, but a few hasty words would change that. What do you mean? I've said too much already. The trial awaits your presence. It is magnificent. See? It is made of costly teak wood and rare marble and the throne is set with an empires treasure of jewels. But the workmanship who created such a pavilion? Celestial, the court convinces. The trial begins. Advance, Tarzan. I have advanced to your throne, woman of beauty, but I shall make talk only with your chief. I am chief of Kahale. You? But you're a woman. There are none but women in this courtroom. There are none but women within the heavy walls of our fortress. What? We have no men, no live men. What have you done with the men you lured here, the Senegalese? Your tone is one of impertinence, but I shall answer. The men who have been brought here, both men of Senegal and those of other lands, have lived briefly. They have slaved and sweated and toiled, as men have long made women work. And when our use for them was finished, they were killed, snuffed out, as though they were nothing but puny, unimportant women of your world. Until now, I have never held women in contempt. But although your speech is cultured and your skin is whiter than many of your followers, you are more of a savage than the most uneducated black of my jungle. More of a savage? I am Consuelo de Varis. The blood of Castile blows in my veins. You do poorly by the flag of Spain. Bestante. You shall remain in prison until dawn, and then you shall die by a woman's sword. No, I must not kill Tarzan. He friend of my people. He has the strength of a hundred men. Or he could do much work in our city. He is a man. Our vow is to kill all men. But he is too handsome to die. We shall have a vote then. Either he dies tomorrow, or he remains a prisoner among us. Bring out the voting kettle. Here is voting kettle, great Gahari. In the golden box beside my throne are two sections. One contains kernels of corn, the other small rocks. Each of you, my subjects, will pause before the box and take that which you choose. You will advance and drop one or the other in the kettle. No one will know how you cast your ballot. A kernel of corn for life, a small stone for death. So be it. Corn for life, stone for death. File before the throne and drop your token. Finger instead of spreeza. A kernel of corn, a vote that I live. And one for my death. Death. I have an even chance. To our dramatic story of Tarzan after a short message, Tarzan would be dead. But while he lived, he stood by the tiny window of his cell and examined as much of the fabulous city of women as he could see. The city was not large, but it was magnificent in its architecture and construction. And he was resolved to find out as much about the city and its occupants as he could before he died. His appearance and his personality worked wonders even with these women. And from Margarita, his jailer, and from Ibuana, who brought him a meager meal, he learned much. In Saville, Consuelo del Varus was a great musician, a pianist and an advanced student of harmonics and instrumentation. Yes, Margarita. She learned how to make a mirror break by the sounding of a note on a tuning fork and how to make a dog howl by striking a note unheard by human ears. Great science. Well, with Consuelo was a game, a sort of amusement. Until the day her love was spurned by Don Jose Casara, director of the Sevilla Opera Company. It was then that she designed the instrument that now leads many men to their death. After many years of work, she perfected it, and on the eve of Don Jose's marriage to another woman, she lured him to the edge of a great cliff and to his death below. Unrequited love is understandable. It often leads to violence, but all of these other men... The influence of her family enabled her to flee to the African color wheel de oro, Spanish possession, but each no man she met reminded her of her dead lover. She lured them all to their death, and then she founded this city. But the rest of you? Well, all of us have good reasons for hating men. I tell you these things, Tarzan, only because you can tell them to no one else. In the morning, you shall join the legion of men who have been killed by the Cajale. Tell me, Ibuana, why did you join the Cajale? Ibuana's father, no good. Kick mother and beat children. Ibuana always hate him. When Ibuana 11, father sell her for two head of cattle as wife for Yorogi. As sorcerer, he too was unkind to you? He horrible, old man. Teach Ibuana to take King Goliola, drug that destroys. He beat me and pushed thorns under Ibuana's skin. But you could have gone to Yomitemi. Yomitemi is man. Ibuana hate men. She kill husband and run. Consuelo the Cajale, find Ibuana in woods and lead her to city with song of Cajale. You mean those haunting notes have the same effect upon women? They cast spell. But with women it mean deliverance from men. With men, it mean death. Many will follow Tarzan to grave. Yorabo, are you in the next cell? Yorabo! Come to your window. We can talk better. Boy's window. Can you hear me? The deal. Yorabo, sorry. We have no time for sorrow. Listen, I have been asking many questions. If I ask any more, they will grow too suspicious. Find out where we are. Yorabo no could find place any time from position of mountains in distance. Oh, I can't see any from my window. Well, then you don't have to waste questions with that. Has Ibuana brought you a meal yet? No. She brought me one. She's probably gone back for yours. When she comes, beg her to let you see the strange instrument that sounds the call of Kahale. Tell her you're a friend of her people, the Wakayoka, and that it is your dying wish. Yorabo not think she bring it, even if she can. And it's worth a chance, Yorabo. It is our only chance. Leave it with Yorabo. But it does us no good. They have many. Is it small enough to pass through the window? Meteor. Well, slide it along the wall outside of your window as far as you can manage. Yorabo do is want to say all the way out as far as Yorabo can reach. I can feel it. The wall must be too thick. Stretch further. Yorabo, are you extending it at the base of the window? At middle. Well, keep it there. I'll slide my hand up. I feel something. I've got it. Tear something from your clothing or from your cut. Make wands of the material and stuff them in your ears. I shall do likewise. When it is late, I shall try my hand at the instrument. I shall pray that there is but one sentry. And I can lure her with the call of Kahali. It is well, Margarita. You are under my spell. I do your bidding. Unlike the door. Are you the only sentry? So, by outer gate. Give me the key to Yorabo's cell and the keys to our chains. Go into my cell and lie down. Sleep gently, Margarita. Sleep well. You can take the plugs from your ears, Yorabo. We'll be on their call now. Take the plugs out, I said. Why did we not destroy Sethi and kill women, Buanna? Ours is not to destroy, Yorabo. An eye for an eye and a death for a death has never solved any problem. Those women back there have minds that are twisted and warped. They require help. We will report fully to the authorities in Dakar and then you will return to your people and eye to mine. It is good, Tarzan. Many moons later, Tarzan approached the village of the Punya tribe once more. After his experience with the women of Kahili, his mind echoed with a sentiment sometimes expressed by other men. I care not if I never see another woman as long as I live. But as it so happened, Sui, the native girl to whom he had entrusted his parrot, Bill, was the first person he saw upon entering the crawl. Hello, Sui. Tarzan, you are back. I've come for Bill. Now I shall take him to my home and teach him many words. Teach other birds also. Other birds? You mean, you mean Bill turned out to be a female? Oh, then you keep him, Sui. Tarzan has had quite enough to do with a female of the species for a long, long time. In just a moment, we shall return to tell you about our next Tarzan story. It was whispered in the still jungle night. It grew into a murmur within the Boma of the native villages. And then as the message was relayed by the talking drums of the jungle, it became hysteria. Nothing could stem the panic. But this was the end of the world. In our next story of Tarzan.