 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 to herald the March of Dimes, which begins next week, we bring you a special Tarzan story entitled, The Hand of Death. It may be difficult for many of us to grasp from a distance the enormity and the complexity of the dark continent. Africa is more than four times the size of the United States, and one section is no more similar to another there than it is here. The great city of Johannesburg bears no closer resemblance to Tarzan's jungle than our San Francisco does to a logging camp in the main woods. And certainly Tarzan, dressed in a breech cloth of leopard skin, leaping from tree to tree in his jungle, bore little resemblance to the smartly dressed couple who drove along the excellent highway toward the Johannesburg suburb of Parktown. It's been a wonderful day, Mike. Picnic in the country. We shouldn't have to wait for an anniversary. Well, at least I managed to sneak away from the office once a year. Ten years. Ten years and ten picnics with a man I love. It doesn't seem like ten years ago that I met a little rosy cheeked English girl at a picnic in South Africa. The little English girl was just waiting for a handsome American to come along. Deborah, you think it was all right to leave Stephen alone today? Oh, Heaven's, Mike. He's hardly alone with three servants in the house. After all, it's only a little cold. Yeah, I guess there's nothing to worry about. But if anything ever happened to that boy... I know how you feel, Mike. I feel the same way about Stephen. But we mustn't let ourselves become hovering parents, sending for the doctor every time he sneezes. After all, he is almost nine. Quite an old man. Shall we dress for dinner, Deborah? Let's. As soon as we get home, I'll put some champagne on Isaac. Mike. What's the matter? In front of our house, that car. Oh, I thought there was something wrong. It could be most anybody. I think Standish from the office is... That's Dr. Gronwall's car. He wouldn't make a social call at this hour. Stephen must be really sick. Say something, Dr. Gronwall. Tell me about Stephen. As soon as Deborah calms down a little, I'll tell both of you as much as I can. I can't make myself go through it twice. Deborah, Dr. Gronwall's waiting to speak to us. Mike, close the door to his room. Certainly, Doctor. Now, have a seat, my dear. He hardly looked at me. His muscles are twitching and his hands are trembling. I must go back to him, Doctor. Please tell me anything you have to say in a hurry. I won't keep you long, but I've already sent for a nurse to care for the boy. Stephen is going to require plenty of professional care during the next few months. Months? Yes, it's difficult to tell you this, but it must be done. Your son has contracted a very dangerous form of polyomyelitis. Infant paralysis? Yes. We haven't had any cases of it in some time here in Johannesburg, but now the hospital is crowded. I think under the circumstances, it might be better to keep him at home. Will he...? He has better than an even chance to live. And there's a possibility that there may not be any lasting effects. A possibility? Bye. Bye. I'm pacing up and down. Why doesn't the doctor come out? He'll be out soon, and then we'll know. Then we'll know. I've been hearing that for weeks now. Then we'll know what, Deborah? He's not going to die. I know he's not. Maybe he'd be better off dead. Mike! I mean it. You want Stephen to go through life as a cripple, handicapped in everything he tries to do? But lots of children have done wonderful things despite handicaps. And look at the famous handicapped people in history. Yes, yes. And the boys who came home from the war. Lots of them have adjusted themselves to a perfectly normal... Well, my boy isn't going to have to adjust himself. I know somebody who knows more about the care of our body than any doctor who ever lived. Please, please, Mike, you're disturbing the patient. How is he, Doc? Tell me. Well, the disease is no longer progressive. And I think it's safe at this point to say that he's going to live. Beyond that, I can promise nothing. Oh, that's a great deal. Not to me it isn't. Not if that supportful tone of yours means that he's going to spend the rest of his life in those braces. Mike! Mike, I've done everything I could. I've called in the best specialists. You've had day and night nurses, despite Johannesburg's nurse shortage. We've done... Yes, I know all of that. From now on, it's all one big question, Mark. Hydrogymnastics are often helpful. Body manipulation sometimes helps. There are many treatments that may make it possible for Stephen to walk again. But, of course, Africa still hasn't the facilities it should have to properly combat the effects of the disease. Why not? There are plenty of natural warm springs in the jungle. In the jungle? Yes. Yes, in the jungle. And there's good air there, too, and health-building fruit and meat. What are you getting at, Mike? I know a man in the jungle I was of service to once. And he said I could count on him at any time. He has the most magnificent body I've ever seen. And I think he can do Stephen more good than all the doctors in the world. Surely, Mike, you can't be serious. Mike, are you mad? Yes, just mad enough so that I send a message to Tarzan early this morning. I'm having him take the boy home with him. What? I'm not entrusting Stephen to some savage with a ring through his nose. Tarzan isn't a savage, and he doesn't wear a ring in his nose. Maybe not, but you're not taking Stephen out of this house. That's your story. You'd be making a big mistake, Mike. So it's my turn to make one. You doctors haven't been able to accomplish a thing. I don't care what Deborah says, I'm entrusting Stephen's life to Tarzan. In just a moment we shall return to our dramatic story of Tarzan. Tarzan had spent the past few weeks in his seacoast cabin. And, like many of us, he was spending his leisure time pouring over momentous of the past. The few possessions of the parents whom he had never known, sundry souvenirs of his own brief period in the countries of so-called civilized men. Suddenly he left his open trunk and sprang to the door. The scent of a gomangane, a native, assailed his scented of nostrils. Nani Yuko? Mimi Pandego. My friend Pandego. Jumbo Tarzan. Come in, come in. Santa. There's, there's nothing wrong with the people of Pugna, is there? Torgo, Nagama, Sui? Oh, well. Pandego, come bring Tarzan Barua. A letter for me? From where? A walkie? Barua from Johannesburg. Drum that sound like Nene, the beetle, send message to Libraville. Oh, the wireless. Runner, bring to Pugna Village. You saw me? Go ahead. Read. Uh-huh. Um... Is bad news? Yes, the son of a man who once saved my life is very sick. He wants me to come to Johannesburg. His many moons journey? Yes, but I must go. It's strange. I was just looking through my trunk. I'm afraid the only suit I have is many holes in it. Besides, I guess it would be too small for me now. Tarzan grow bigger, stronger every year. Ah, here it is. Certainly has lain in that trunk a long time. That is suit Tarzan would wear to city? I would, if it were not full of holes. Lord of jungle could not go to great city in suit of miserable cloth. Must wear suit of fine animal fur. Pugna women make Tarzan suit. No, there's no time for that. Johannesburg will have to accept me as I am. It was almost a week until Tarzan arrived in the greatest of South Africa cities and made his way to the suburban home of his friend. I know I'm asking a great deal of you Tarzan, but it was the only angle I could think of. I'd be happy to take the boy back with me, but I'm not a doctor. The doctors have been able to do nothing. Are you living at your sea coast cabin? Yes, from time to time. And the mineral spring? It's still bubbling? Same as always. Things don't change rapidly in the jungle. Yes, the springs might help the ailment you describe. I bought a couple of books on the subject. They tell all about those hydro gymnastics and the underwater exercises and a lot of other things. Between the book and what you know about taking care of your own body, he can be cured. I know it, Tarzan. I'll do my best. Is the boy ready for the trek? Well, there's a little difficulty on that score. You see, neither he nor his mother have agreed to the trip. Oh, and yet you brought me hundreds of miles to get him? I think you can convince both of them. Deborah's out, but you can see the boy. He's right over here in his room. We brought him downstairs to make it easier on everyone. Stephen. Stephen. Stephen, I've brought you a visitor. This gentleman is Tarzan, and he's known as the Lord of the Jungle. I'm happy to know you, Stephen. It comes as a surprise to hear you speak the language of my people. Often the least educated savages in the jungle converse with grunts. Gosh, it's good to hear you laugh, Stevie Boy. That's the first time in over a month. I didn't mean to laugh. There's no reason for me to laugh. I have a small friend by the name of Togo. He must be about your age. He doesn't like to laugh either. He's afraid people will think he's a bailu. What's a bailu? Actually, it's a word of the apes. It means baby. Is Togo an ape? No. He's a little native boy, but I've taught him many ape words. You know, you'd like Togo. If you came home with me, you and he could play together. I can't play. I can't run anymore. I can never run again. Oh, now never is a long time, especially for one so young. I guess it's no use, Tarzan. Steven. Yes? If you return to my jungle with me, I shall try to make you walk again. I will try to make you as strong as I. But I make no promises. I'm neither a magician nor a doctor. I don't like doctors. But I do promise you the most interesting time you've ever had. You'll see almost every animal of the jungle. You'll see rare birds and flowers that cannot live in the city. You can watch native dances, learn their language, come with me into the upper level of jungle growth where only Tarzan and the great bull apes can travel. These things I can promise you, Steve. Gee. Will you come with me, Steven? When do we leave? You're not leaving. Deborah. I have no intention of letting my son travel through that horrible jungle with this wild man. Mother, I want to go. Because you have accepted this fantastic dreamy spun for you. Well, I haven't. You're not leaving, Steven. Deborah, for the love of heaven. That's final, Mike. Mrs. Aldridge, parents always mean well for their children, but sometimes even mothers make mistakes. I made Steven laugh just now. And over a month, you have failed to... I don't need a jungle savage to tell me how to raise my son. Deborah. I shall not ask you to apologize for that slap, Mrs. Aldridge. But I want you to know that I was prepared to apologize to you for my presumption in wanting to take your son and hoping to nurse him back to health. I was prepared to promise you that... I'm not listening to you. Well, then I shall not explain. Mike, I'm sorry that Steven can't come with me. He is going with you. You'd better not try to ignore me. Steven leaves this house over my dead body. I don't think that will be necessary. Tarzan, I shall get the boys' things together and then you can leave. No, no, you won't. Deborah, this is for Steven's good. Darling, can't you see that? I don't know. If anything happens to Steven, I'll never forgive either of you. Mrs. Aldridge, I hope to return the boy in good health. I'm going to try to... to work hard to erase the mark that the hand of death has placed on him. But if Steven Aldridge's anticipation of the trip had been great, its realization was not. Swaddled in heavy blankets, he had felt like a baby on the train. And then when they had gotten off and he was being carried by the lord of the jungle through the ever-thickening mass of dense vegetation, he felt worse. Tarzan's amazing prowess made him feel more helpless than ever. Yes, Steven? I think I want to go back home. I know. It's a little scary here now, isn't it? But by tomorrow we shall reach my seacoast cabin. You'll like it there. It's in the jungle, isn't it? Yes, of course. I don't think I like the jungle. I hear animals. Yes, I... I both hear and smell Sheetah the Panther and Numa the Lion. But if I run quickly, we can out-distance them. But if I were alone, I couldn't run. And I couldn't defend myself. I'll never be able to do anything. Tarzan, why are you stopping? I think I've been wrong running away from Sheetah and Numa. We'll wait here for them. No, Numa's going in the other direction. But Sheetah comes close. I'll put you down here. I'm afraid. I hear you take this heavy strand of Leanna and tie my one hand behind my back, will you? Tie your hand? Is this fine? Yes. Hurry up. Loop the rope about my waist. That's the boy. Tarzan, what are you... Now tie my legs. There'll be time for questions later, Steven. Go ahead. There. Now tie a double knot. Good. Good. Now you just stay here. I shall hop forward to meet Sheetah the Panther. Tarzan! Tarzan! As Tarzan advanced, Sheetah broke from the underbrush and leaped straight at Tarzan's throat. With his one free hand, Tarzan shielded himself. But the weight of the animal knocked him down. Unable to rise because of his tight ankles, Tarzan rolled over. The mighty Panther turned and attacked his prey again. The great Talon slashing viciously. But Tarzan's one free hand now held his razor sharp hunting knife. It plunged upward and ripped into the poles of the powerful cat's soft belly. The strike had been sure, but the huge animal gave one convulsive shutter and dropped. Steven, I didn't do that to prove my great strength, but only to prove that it's possible to defend yourself against enemies, though you're badly handicapped. A man may be crippled in many parts of his body, but he's still able to face life and life's dangers unless his soul is injured, unless his courage is wasted away. I may not be able to restore your body muscle, Steven, but I hope I can renew your courage. In just a moment, we shall return with a dramatic conclusion of the Hand of Death. The months passed and back in Johannesburg, Mike and Deborah Allridge heard little about their son. It took all of Mike's persuasion to keep his wife from starting for the jungle, but he felt that Steven's only chance for recovery lay with Tarzan, and that Deborah and he might delay the cure. Deep in the jungle, Tarzan was hard at work. The boy's morale had improved, but his physical progress was slow. He looked strained and anemic as he stood waist-deep in the warm mineral spring. Now, stretch your right arm forward. Good. Now, your right leg. I'm trying, Tarzan. I know you are, Steve. Don't worry about falling. The water will support your weight. Here I come. I've got you, Steve, and you're all right. I'll carry you to the bank now. There we are. Of course you did. Now, just lie on this blanket and relax. I'll massage your muscles. There. You don't feel strong when you massage me, Tarzan. You feel as gentle as my mother. Yes, I guess your mother's worrying about you. I'd write more often, but, well, I'm waiting till I have some real news. You could write her that my arms are getting stronger. They are getting stronger, aren't they? Yes, I think they are. My courage. Tell me my courage is strong, Tarzan. Your courage puts mind to shame, Stevie. This hema of Tarzan, doctor. Thank you, Contego. You've been an excellent guide. Tell the men to carry that equipment into the cabin. Boss! I'll go inside and... Quiet, quiet. The boys are sleeping. You must be Dr. Grimoire. Yes, I came as soon as I could, Tarzan. I had to arrange to have other doctors take care of my patients. Of course. You must be a fine man to cross the jungle at my bidding. You did not tell his parents that he's worse, did you? No, I didn't call them. The nurse has been instructed to tell all callers that I'm on a vacation. That's all. I'll put it down if it's heavy, Contego. Doctor, what have you brought into the jungle with you? Instruments, medicines, electrical stimulation machines. I hope you brought a long extension cord. The nearest source of electricity is over 300 miles away. Now, Stephen, grasp this spool in your hand. Just grab it? Yes. That's good. That's all right. Now, try to pick it up with your toes. The right foot first. Go ahead, Stephen. You did well. Now lie down and rest. Tarzan and I will be just outside the door if you want us. I'll be all right. Do you feel warm enough, Stephen? Yes, Tarzan. We'll be back soon. Well, Doctor, you've been working the boy too hard. He used to exercise slowly. You don't mean I've heard his chances for recovery. Oh, no, no, no. I didn't mean that at all. I think you've done wonders. And the muscular development of his lower and upper arms is nothing short of miraculous. I made up some exercises from watching the movements of baby monkeys. Nature is our best teacher. There are some things that must be changed, however. The mattress he's lying on is too soft. We must get a different one. I said runners for that mattress. It was carried almost 1,000 miles. He must rest far more. The exercises must be less frequent for a time. And I must check over his diet with you. Also, we may have to fashion a temporary brace to correct the position of the left leg. I'll do anything you tell me. I know now that it's impossible to learn the cure of polio from a book. There is a great deal concerning infantile paralysis that we don't know. But don't worry about following my instructions, Tarzan. I am going to stay right here. Perhaps the men of science and the men of nature together may defeat the enemy. Yes, perhaps. Such a small enemy. I fought lions and panthers, hippos and rhinos and yet I need help to vanquish an enemy that cannot be seen with a microscope. One thrifted into a month. In Johannesburg, several young doctors continue to care for the practice of the vacationing Dr. Grunwald. And scarcely a stone's throw from his office, two people faced each other in anger. Once they had looked at each other with love in their eyes, but now... I'm getting a divorce, Mike, and then I'm leaving for the jungle. I may not find this Tarzan's lair, but if I don't, I'll die in the attempt. You will wait another month, like I said. When the year is up, we'll go together. How can you keep delaying me Oh, Debbie, can't you see that it's because I love him that I want to give Tarzan every chance to make him whole again? Couldn't you see how Tarzan has developed his own body? All that I could see was that he was a savage. He's proven that by ignoring us for months now. Well, it isn't easy to send a letter out of the jungle and if anything had happened to the boy, he would have let us know. Well, I intend to find out the worst. If you won't come with me, I'll go alone. And I intend starting tomorrow. Deborah and Mike did start toward the jungle the next day. Although Tarzan had traversed the distance in a few days, the safari of the distraught parents took many, many weeks. It was almost a year since the day Stephen had been stricken with polio when Mike and Deborah entered the small clearing of Tarzan's seacoast cabin. Well, there it is, Deborah. The door's open. Maybe they've been killed by some terrible beast. The natives said they were here. I'm afraid to go. Oh, Mike, do you think that... I see someone at the door. Debbie, it's Stephen. Oh, Mike. He's running towards us. Stephen's running. Hello, Stephen. I knew you were coming. He could smell you. Smell us? Oh, yes. We of the jungle can catch the scent of the Tom and Goni. That's ape language for white men. We of the jungle? Does that mean it's going to be hard to persuade you to come home? Oh, I'm ready to come home now. Gee, wait until I tell the other kids about Tarzan. And from the doorway of the cabin, two men smiled upon the scene. A kindly doctor and a bronzed man of the jungle who had won what was perhaps his greatest victory. In just a moment, we shall return with a preview of our next story of Tarzan. The terrifying ball of fire, streaks across the blackness of the Congo heavens, leaving in its wake a shower of red, green and yellow. At the government observatory, there's talk of a great meteor in the jungle the natives cower before this sign of the demons. And on a remote plantation, a strange being steps from a weird-looking rocket ship. In our story, Tarzan and the man from another world. Tarzan, a 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 Blasser. This is a Commodore production. Listen to our next story, Tarzan and the man from another world. Another thrilling episode of The Lord of the Jungle.