 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 a message to Fort Shabir. Fort Shabir on the fringe of the jungle is the most remote of all of Britain's far-flung military posts. History has recorded many savage massacres at Fort Shabir, for the natives of the district are warlike and the surrounding veiled teens with savage animals. And yet, until that day, the men who were stationed there had never been too concerned with the danger. They had confidence in Major Birdwell, their commanding officer. But now Major Birdwell was dead and they had no confidence in the dandified Major Beekman who would arrive that day to replace him. The feeling of unrest spread through the ranks and had reached the staff room of the Sunwightened Headquarter. I wouldn't be too harsh on them at first men, learn about the Congo in Duke. Good of you to stick up for me, Captain Lawrence. Not at all, Major Beekman. We didn't see you come in, are we? Yes, yes. It's quite obvious that you didn't see me come in, both from your conversation and your attire. I want no further breach of regulations here. Colors fastened, ties drawn up, shoes shined and pants pressed. Do you understand? We'll endeavor to carry out your orders, Major Beekman. But in this intense heat it's frequently... I want action! I'll excuse us. If I can best the part of an officer and the gentlemen, so can my staff. Yes, sir. Now that you've learned a lesson from me, I should be happy to listen to one from you, Captain Lawrence. Tell me you're quite the expert at diagnosing troubles. Rest of you men, excuse me. Yes, sir. Should get our shoes shined anyway. Now then, Lawrence, I'm told that there's unrest among the men. Is that true? Well, I don't believe it's a personal thing, Major Beekman. But the fact that you failed to approve the regular orders for ammunition has the men worried. Why? Because the order should have been sent to England a month ago. It was a major birdwell's desk when he took ill. Well, I can't see that there's any rush. It hasn't been an uprising here for years. Perhaps it's been because we had plenty of guns and ammunition until now. The natives seem to know they see. Oh, nonsense. I'm afraid it isn't nonsense, sir. There's been a great deal of rumbling among the natives lately, and it could break into warfare at any time. Oh, by the way, are there any military tailors near the post? I'd like to order some lighter-weight uniforms. And there's an Arab in the city of Omdomara, who's quite proficient at handling gold-braid. But I think the matter of the ammunition is a little more important. That's enough, Lawrence. I'll forward the order when and if I see fit. You may be the great expert on Africa, but I'm confident that the natives aren't going to fire on the flag of Britain. They wouldn't dare. But even as Major Beekman waved aside the possibility of an attack from the natives, the warriors of the Kamyuema tribe gathered about their council fire. Huge muscular men, they seemed like giants in their tall headdresses of egret plumes. At their sides, they carried enormous swords and scarlet sheaths, and their war shields of tough and alligator hide stood side by side in the ground, forming a circle in which the tribal dancers whirled and spun in feverish abandon. This was the dance of war. Hundred years our men danced, waved swords through spears, but English still take our land, kill our warriors. But you say we make war now. My dear. But now that dance is over, we put away swords, spears, arrows. This time we use white man's guns. Janokemo, chief of Kamyuema people has many guns, much bullets. White soldiers at Fort Shabir not have much bullets. Janokemo knows. We killed them. Start tonight for Fort Shabir. Not start tonight. This time warriors of Kamyuema have guns and many men to help. Even now warriors of other tribes and way to our village. We wait for them. When we strike will be thousands and thousands of natives. We not stop until last white man gone from Congo. What's that? He's cry of Tarzan. He come here but we not tell him our plan. If he learn we kill him for he can warn soldiers. For an all white man, death to enemies of Africa. We'll return to our story of Tarzan in just a moment. Tarzan's cry had been heard in the distance. Now the warriors of the Kamyuemas made feverish precautions against his coming. The headdresses that signified war were hurriedly put away. The swords and spears were taken to places of concealment. And the devil dancers quickly removed their war masks and mingled innocently with the women who were preparing food. At the time Tarzan reached the village, it presented a scene of peace. And the war like Jannokemo seemed a benevolent ruler. His only concern was for the tribal meal that was in preparation. Jambore Tarzan, lord of jungle. Jambore Jannokemo, chief of the Kamyuema people. You come in time for a fine tribal dinner. You eat, drink with us. I cannot eat with you until I have cleared my mind of suspicions. The signs point to war and I am told that you were the leader. Jannokemo, leader of war? Someone make joke on you. Who would Jannokemo make war on? You've never attempted to hide your hatred of the British. No, dear. Hate English. Africa for Africans, not for white men. But arrows and spears mean nothing against guns. Jannokemo not lead his warriors to sure death. Your words sound true. And yet those who warn me that you might be... Tonight after eat, Jannokemo prove his words true. We build great hot fire, burn spears, arrows, knob carry, swords. Jannokemo swear on spirit his ancestors, we not use these weapons against white men. Convinced that the rumors of war were false, Tarzan remained to share the tribal dinner of the Kamyuema tribe. The people were most friendly. There were no signs of their traditional hatred of the whites. And yet they made one mistake. They served the roasted haunch of jungle buffalo. And Tarzan remembered that the Kamyuemas considered the buffalo the strongest of all beasts, and that its meat was always saved until the eve of battle. But if Jannokemo had spoken falsely to him once, he would repeat his lie. What Tarzan to do was to warn the men at Fort Shabir. Tarzan reached the military post a few days later, and he was soon discussing the matter with his old friend Captain Lawrence. It's hard to say how many men he might be able to recruit, Captain Lawrence. Many hundred, though, I imagine. Maybe thousands. It's easier to spread war than it is peace. Quite so. Yet the restrictions on the sale of firearms mean that we have little to fear so far as... That's it! No, that's how he managed it. That's how who managed what? He sounded as though he was swearing on his ancestors that he would not start a war, actually. All he was saying was that he wouldn't use arrows and spears and other primitive weapons against you. You mean you think he has guns? Which is the only conclusion that can be drawn. And I hate to think what could happen here if thousands of natives armed with guns started to rampage. Tarzan, I want you to come with me to the next office. I'd like you to tell my superior officer what you've just told me. Well, so far as I'm concerned, no one superior to you, Captain Lawrence, I'm very happy to repeat my story. Good. Captain Lawrence, sir, I'd like to speak with you. Come in. Thank you. Major Beekman, I'd like you to meet Tarzan. I'm very happy to meet you, Major Beekman. Major Beekman, I wanted you to speak with Tarzan because he is born in the jungle. He knows more about the natives and their ways than any other man in the continent. He's just come from the bush and he's convinced that the threat of an attack is very imminent. Oh, I think we could defend ourselves under ordinary circumstances, but without a proper supply of ammunition, we would... I approve the order, and it's in England by this time. Yes, sir, I know that. But it will be at least three weeks until the shipment gets here. Well, if we need ammunition sooner, we'll buy it on the open market. You said there was a fair military tailor and armed mara, and I have been meaning to go there anyway. Can I buy shells there? I'm not sure. Tarzan? Perhaps you can buy ammunition for small arms, not for your big guns. Well, I'll buy what I can. Captain Lowlands, on your way out, ask the company clock to come in. I'll have a draft drawn so that I'll be able to pay for what I purchased. You'll need gold for whatever you buy, and I'm tomorrow. Gold? There's a bank there that will exchange the army requisition for gold, but I think it's pretty dangerous... Tarzan, from what direction do you think this highly advertised war will come? From the southwest. I can't be sure, of course, but I think their forces will mass near the village of the Camuemas. Show me on this map. Well, it's not marked on the map, but the Camuama village lies right about here. And Abdamara? Right over there. Good. Kevlon's best defense is a strong attack. I'll go to Abdamara and secure ammunition. I'll meet you near the Camu... whatever it is, village, right there at the small entrenchment marked on the map. There's nothing at that spot but a crude shelter in the center of a barren clearing. It's almost completely in ruins now. It was built many years ago. You'll meet me there, and while you await my arrival, you'll use what ammunition you have for thrust attacks on the native village. Those are orders. Yes, sir. And how many men shall I take? Oh, you won't need many. I'll go over the details before I leave. You'd better have the mechanized equipment prepared for my trip. I'll need it. I'm to bring the ammunition back. My compliments to walk, I presume. It doesn't look far on the map. It isn't far on the map. That afternoon, Major Beekman left for exotic Abdamara, and that night, by the light of flaming torches, a small company led by Captain Lawrence started its safari to the jungle entrenchment that lay near the Camuema village. His men, although trained soldiers, were unused to such a march through the jungle, and as the days passed, they dropped like flies beneath the heat of the equatorial sun. And only the constant help and guidance of a bronzed, white jungle savage enabled any of them to reach their destination alive. But at last, they were there. They had reached the desolate shambles that had once been an outpost for an early white conqueror. It stood there in the center of a large patch of barren rock, an easy target for natives with guns. Well, it doesn't look like much. I'll have to protect you at all. It will need rebuilding. Yes, I suppose so. And when that's done, we'll just start our thrust attacks. I'm afraid there isn't much thrust left in us. All you can hope to do is to stall for time until you get an adequate supply of ammunition. A little sleep actually seems more important now. Yes, you and your men had better get a night's sleep. I'll stand watch and I'll warn you if any danger approaches. And if you ask me, our greatest danger is in Amdo Mora. I hope he's found the right braid for his uniform by this time. Yes, Major Bigman had found his braid and ordered his new uniforms. He had also converted his bank-draft into gold and had rested snugly in his pocket. Now he was on official business. Well-informed sources had told him he could secure and limit an ammunition through certain channels. The channels began in a certain café Bel-Oriental at the foot of the infamous Street of Feeds. Good evening to you, Affendi. Good evening. I want to see the head man, the boss, the proprietor. I am most sorry, Affendi, but there is nothing I can do for you. A drink, a tasty morsel, or a game at which you may try your luck, perhaps, but I am powerless. I said I wanted to see the boss. Now, drag him out here before I... It is a pleasure to see me, Inglise. Inglise? It is our term for an Englishman. You are an officer of the English, are you not a colonel, perhaps? Well, not yet. I'm Major Bigman. Perhaps you'd be good enough to work... I am Julnar. I am the owner of this establishment. You? Well, it should be a pleasure to do business with a beautiful woman like you. You are most kind. Is there, uh, somewhere where we can, uh, talk privately? And there is not yet anyone in the gambling room. We can go in there. Come. Oh, fine. Ray-Hon, you will bring us drinks to the gambling room. Now then, Major, I've been told that you can secure guns and ammunition for me. Oh, not Mrs. Julnar, just Julnar. What is your first name, Major? Uh, George, George. Uh, have I been informed correctly about the ammunition? You are all business. Have you no time for the preliminaries? A drink, perhaps a meal? A few extravagant compliments? You British are so, so cold. Oh, well, of course I... I didn't mean to be rude or unfriendly. You have money with you. Gold. Yes. There you are, you'll know. You can count it while I make out a list of the things that I'll require. I think perhaps I could tell you when and where you will require the ammunition. I know a great deal about what goes on in the interior. Oh, then you believe these wild rumors of a native uprising, too? Perhaps, but you needn't bark at me, George. Without my consent, you will be unable to buy a single bullet in Amdumara. And I only sell to those who are friendly to me. Now, sit back in that chair and relax. Your drink, Mistress Effendi. Thank you. You brought us such small drinks, Rehan. Perhaps you best return and bring us the bottle. George may be here for a long time. He may succeed in getting what he came for, and then again, he may not. And the ammunition becomes a vital matter as a savage war begins. We'll return to our story in just a moment. Look at our cozy little jungle, please. At least you lost no men in this thrust attack. Because I made no attack. Despite orders, I'd be a poor officer if I tried to lead my handful of men against those hordes of natives. It wouldn't take them an hour to find out how few men we have. And now, sparingly, we're forced to use our scant supply of ammunition. Besides, if you were to strike the blow first, I would no longer be your ally. But they are preparing for war. You can tell that. Yes, and they have guns. I have determined that on the little scouting trips I've taken alone. What are they waiting for, Tarzan? Why don't they throw their weight at us and get it over with? They may be playing the ancient jungle game of patience. Or they may be waiting for some development about which we know nothing. Well, they're not going to toy with us forever. I know what I'm waiting for. Major Beekman. And he'd better get you with the ammunition in a hurry. But Major Beekman was still in Andomara, a victim of the cleverness of Jolnar and of his own weaknesses. He was drinking heavily now. He hadn't slept in days. And he had developed a fondness for the decadent life at the Café Ballorientale and its gambling room. He had lost a small fortune of his own. And now the goal that was to pay for the badly needed ammunition was in the center of the table. Oh, I see. I have to win this hand, Jolnar. I can't keep losing hour after hour. Your luck at cards has not been good, but such is the fate of gamblers. Perhaps this hand will see a change in your fortune. Well, better change. I've lost money that doesn't belong to me. If I fail to get it back, I'm ruined. I'll be stripped of rank and maybe worse. What could be worse than that after buying all those handsome new uniforms? Another card, George? Yes, yes. I will have another card also. There. I think I have you this time, Jolnar. Nineteen. Sorry, George. I have twenty. I say you've got to do something, Jolnar. I'll pay you back. I'll do anything. I've got to save my honor. You told me you doubted the possibility of a native attack, did you not? That's right. Then I tell you what I will do for you. I will have my men load your safari with empty boxes of shells, empty, save for some rocks, which we will put inside. By the time you have occasion to use them, you can claim some unidentifiable Arabs cheated you. There will be no damage done and your honor will be left intact. Oh, my word. That's a tremendous idea. It's capital. Dummies, eh? How did you ever think of it, Jolnar? I have had much experience with dummies. Do not worry, Jean-Oquimau. The Englishman left without a single bullet. Your men can wait until they've exhausted their scanned supply and then you'll be able to destroy them without the loss of a single life. It's good. When white men drive them from Africa, Jolnar made important women. Much land, many jewels, give them her. But I won't wait forever, Jean-Oquimau. When will your warriors stop the attack? Men of other tribes come now. Meet us, village, my people. When Jean-Oquimau return there, he lead attack. And we not stop until last white man dead. What do you mean, Tarzan? This man stands here to the jungle animal. I'll read that thousands of native warriors are on their way here. The animals are fleeing from their path. There's still not a sign of Beekman. Well, he probably couldn't get here anyway. The stampede is traveling in the direction of which he should be approaching. It's lucky we have this shelter. Flimsy, though it is. And the lectures of the men who are with us here are condemned to death. At least the natives won't attack until the stampede is over. Well, that's something. Now get a little rest if you can, men. It may be difficult with the infernal cries of the animals, but... Someone's outside. Pacing through the door open, it may be... It's Major Beekman. What's left of me? Stampede destroyed all the supplies. All the men killed I. I escaped through some miracle. I need medical attention. You'll have to get me to Fort Shamir. There was to be a doctor among the men, new men who were to arrive during the past week. Well, we can't get you to Fort Shamir. The natives are massing for an attack. And even without that, these men are not jungle-trained. They barely manage to get here. Well, someone has to get me to a doctor or bring one here. I still don't believe that nonsense about the... To your post, men! This is Major Beekman. Yes, sir. Bridges take the pick-up at all sides. Right, sir! Look it. Thousands at all sides of the clearing. Are they within gun range? Just about, sir. Then fire at them. We'll hold out fire. Can't afford to waste ammunition. Our new supply of ammunition has reached Fort Shamir. But now, get someone through their lines. Send a messenger back to Fort Shamir and stuck him to send all available men in equipment. No one could get through their lines, sir. But if so one could, we'd stand a chance, wouldn't we? Well, the natives know little about handling guns, even with their superior numbers, you could control them if you had an unlimited supply of ammunition and additional troops. Well, that's what I thought. Lawrence, you'll have to get one of the men to make a try for it. Getting a message through to Fort Shamir would mean that we'd be safe. Yes, I think it would. But I won't order any of my men to try to run and go to the thousands of angry natives. Well, perhaps one of them will volunteer. I wouldn't ask for volunteers. All right, Major Beekman. Make a try for it myself. No, no, Captain Lawrence. I won't let you. Perhaps no one can get through to Fort Shamir, but if anyone's to the chance, it would be me. Now, if I managed to get across the clearing, I could take to the upper level. Yes, you'd stand the slim chance. Why should you risk your life? If the natives take this position, I'll be among those who are slaughtered anyway. I doubt that. They'll stop short of killing the lord of the jungle. What are you planning for, Lawrence? You have your volunteer? Better get going, Tarzan. Goodbye, Captain Lawrence. I hope we live to see one another again. Tarzan, I... Goodbye. Beekman, you've been hit. Yes, but never mind me for now. What's happened to Tarzan? I can't see him from here. Well, get to the window. Have you got binoculars? Yes, sir. Then tell me, how's he doing? If he can reach Fort Shamir, he can bring a doctor and supplies. I see him, sir. They just ran from the cover of one rack to that of another. They let him have everything they got, but the rain isn't so good. He's made another few feet now. They peppered the Rockies behind him. Maybe... Oh! No! No, he's in the clear again. I think... Yes! Yes, he's almost out of sight now. He can just reach the protection of the trees. We have enough ammunition to hold him up until the others get here, but... I can't see him at all now, sir. Then... then maybe he's failed... perhaps. Well, Major Beekman, if help comes, it'll be too late to do you any. I doubt that he's got through. No man could possibly. And with nothing but jungle between Tarzan and Fort Shamir, it means we'll be saved. In just a moment a preview of our next exciting story of Tarzan. November in the rain belt to the south of the equator, the days of sweltering damp heat, the nights of wet coldness, the constant fear of the jungle wilds and the haunting dread that someone you love has disappeared in the Congo and will never be seen again. Tarzan plays a strange role in a baffling mystery entitled African Thanksgiving. Our next story of the Lord of the Jungle. 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 Glasser. This is a Commodore production.