 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 sun of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story, death has small wings. Tarzan had been spear-fishing near his cabin. When from the lagoon's babbling inlet came the roar of an animal and a girl's frantic scream. Tarzan clambered up the lagoon's banks, scrambled over rocks and then streaked to the small inlet. There a melt crocodile was about to close its hideous jaws on a scantily-clad young white girl. Tarzan's spear catapulted downward with tremendous force. The crocodile leaped high into the air, its tail lashing furiously. But it was only the last frantic spasm of death. He clawed at both. There isn't much left of the bathing suit. There wasn't much of it to begin with. It's a bikini bathing suit. Do you like it? Where is the safari you were traveling with this morning? How did you know about our safari? I caught the scent of white men many hours ago. I followed it until I discovered your camp and made up my mind that the men in your party did not come here to start trouble. But I might need to start some. I've never seen a man like you before. You didn't tell me what had become of your safari. Why did you leave it? I wanted a swim and father got stuffy and impossible, so I just sneaked off when no one was looking. They'll come back for me when they find I'm missing. If I hadn't been fishing here, they might have returned to find nothing left of you, but the fragments of your bathing suit. I doubt that Gimla would have eaten that. You know, you're cute. Do you live near here? The entire jungle is my home. I am Tarzan. Some call me the Lord of the Jungle. I'm Gail Stevens, and I haven't got a title. But I'm open to suggestion. Maybe I'd like to be your duchess, or as a Lord's wife called a countess. A Lord's wife is called a lady, and it's plain that you will never be called that. Why, you... you were insulting Savage. I'll... Stop pummeling my chest, you spitfire. I'll teach you to call me names. Stop it. Never try to strike me again. You're hurting my wrist. Will you behave if I let you go? No, I won't. And I'll have to put you over my shoulder and find the trail your safari's taken. You wouldn't dare force it. I'll put you down when I've reached your camp and turned you over to your father. Together with a recommendation for a good spanking. I originally planned this trip so I could get away from Gail for a little while, but her plane was waiting for me when I reached Mombasa. She's too much for me to handle. Always has been. Is your wife no control over her either? My wife died when Gail was a baby. I guess that's why she's spoiled. Oh, I suppose now I'll have to wait hours until she gets dressed to perform it and push on. The terrific heat of this part of the jungle makes traveling by day almost impossible. You would do well to camp here and then resume your journey later by torchlight. Our headman suggested traveling by night, but Gail wouldn't hear it. Do you let this young daughter of yours dictate everything you do? I don't let her. She just, uh, well, there's no sense trying to cross Gail. Oh, I've got enough troubles without that. Business worries, my digestion. I do not believe in spanking children, but if Gail were my daughter, I might make an exception in her case. I tried it once, and she was three. She bit my hand. Anyone who can spank Gail will win my admiration and my respect, as well as my pity. Hi, Dad. On the change. How do you like the way I look now, jungle lord? A white riding outfit is hardly suitable for the jungle. Oh, you're a wet blanket. Come on, Dad. Teleport us. We're ready to start again. We're ready to start, Ming. And you'd better tell him to move faster or we'll never get to call her Danny. To call her Danny? But you mustn't go there. Oh, why don't you mind your own business? Well, this is my business, Fray. I've decided to travel with you until you've passed beyond the jungle. Oh, maybe my time's a beginning to work. To me, you're only a spoiled child, but I have determined that your safari is too small for a trek through the jungle. At best, this is no land for a white woman. Oh, see, you admit it. I'm a woman. Maybe by the time we've reached call her Danny, you'll realize... Call her Danny is in the heart of the doodoo country. The doodoo country? Sounds cute. Doodoo. It is the native's word for the tsetse fly whose sting causes sleeping sickness. I'm not afraid of a few tiny flies. Perhaps you have not the intelligence to be afraid of anything. A few tiny flies. In the land near call her Danny, the natives say that death has small wings. In just a moment, we shall return to our story of Tarzan. Day after day, the small safari cut its way deep into the jungle, ever in the direction of call her Danny in the doodoo country. And as they approached this land of the living dead, the native porters began to desert the party, scurrying into the tangled undergrowth, as though they had already seen the specter of the Grim Reaper. Tell me, Gail, what makes you so determined to reach call her Danny? Why did you choose it as your destination in the first place? Because the man at the travel station in Mombasa said it was the one place we mustn't go. And the moment he said it, I knew what Gail's reaction would be. He was a funny little man who looked all frightened and mysterious when he spoke about it. He called call her Danny the forbidden city. Why, I'd rather die than pass up something like that. Many people have died for having gone to call her Danny. Oh, you're not scaring me with all that yakity yak about sexy flies and sleeping sickness. I know it's just a cover up. A cover up for what? I figured out that call her Danny must be one of those places where they hold all those weird native rights. The ones white people aren't supposed to see. You know, with child brides and crazy dancing. I will tell you what call her Danny is. It's a miserable collection of earthen huts. Each one seething with wretched natives who've been torn from the bosom of their families by the dread disease. Oh, you're just trying to scare me. Perhaps the sight of them may make you realize that the world doesn't begin and end with your own selfish being. Oh, no, Tarzan. You'll see hundreds of wretched blacks who are nearer to death in the life, desolate humans who merely wait for the gentle hand of death to release them from their suffering. You're making it all up. My, don't believe me. You haven't the sense to recognize the truth. You're a shallow-minded, selfish child. What? You can't talk to me that way. Why, Gil? When we first met, I told you never to strike me again. That was just a playful slap. She didn't mean it. Oh, yes, I did. Man, I'm... Time someone taught you a lesson. Let me go. Take your hands off me, Tarzan. Dad! Tarzan, perhaps. What do you think you're going to do? I'm going to give you the spanking you've had coming for a long, long time. No, Dad. Because this hurts me more than it does you. I'm getting very tired. Perhaps if we could stop for a little while... You're not tired, Mr. Stevens. You're afraid Gil's fallen too far behind. Yes, I am worried about her. She's in no danger. I can sense the coming of enemies. Please stop and wait for Gil. Please, Tarzan. All right. Bass! Bass! Oh, she's trying very hard. She hasn't complained about the hardships for several days now. She's learning. She's only a child. With the body of a woman, a dangerous combination. Oh, yes, I guess so. Well, perhaps by the time we get back to the States, I wonder what's happening there. If only I could get my hands on the current stock market quotations. You're worrying about the stock market when we're drawing close to a land from which we may not return? But I can't help it. That's all I've thought about for years. Perhaps this trip may teach you something, too, Mr. Stevens. You may discover that these stock market returns are not so important. Take a gale? But right under that tree. We're ready to start again. And we're merely waiting for you to catch up with us. All right. If you'll just wait a second until I take these heavy boots off. No, no, no. Your mosquito boots will remain on. You have to keep your shirt buttoned to the neck, and at no time must you permit any part of your body to be exposed. No, Bikini bathing suit, eh? But what are you doing, Tarzan? Breaking off a few palm fronds. From this point, we will walk single fire. Gale, you go first. Mr. Stevens, you follow? And if you see any large brownish flies land on Gale, use the front to chase them away. I shall walk behind you and do likewise. But who'll chase them off you? I shall try to be wary and whisk them off before they have a chance to bite. But we've been inoculated, and you... Oh, there's no sure inoculation against sleeping sickness. And I'm in better physical condition than any civilized man. Well, we'd better be moving along. Yes, if we keep on at the pace we've been making by tonight, we shall reach the land of the doodoo. Darkness had already painted the village of Kolhadene in somber tones by the time the white travelers had reached there. Before them, stretched endless irregular rows of huts made of hard-baked clay. From every doorway, frightened eyes peered out of them. Mangy-looking dogs sniffed at their heels, and ill-fed goats bleated at them from behind piles of unsightly rubble. A few humans, if they could be called that, leaned against broken fences and watched the advance of the strangers as they made their way toward what looked like the principal building of the Death Colony. Well, Gale, are you satisfied now that I told the truth about Kolhadene? It's very interesting. I'm glad we reached here. Why, the people are nothing but skin and bones. They look supercular. Look, one of them's coming toward us from the big building. Oh, yes. He looks healthier than the others. Jumbo, stranger. Jumbo, I am Tarzan, who comes from the Punya country. And this is Mr. Stevens and his daughter Gale from the land across the seas. And I am Dr. Kurusa. You're a doctor? Why, you look like a... A jungle savage? I am, but I left my people for many years. I studied medicine in the white man's country and have returned here to help them. Why have you come to our land? Well, we'd like to help, too. We came for various reasons, Dr. Kurusa, the young lady because of childish curiosity. Mr. Stevens, because he is too weak to deny his daughter her slightest whim, and I, because of a perhaps mistaken idea that I might teach this spoiled child a lesson. You have chosen a bad time. The season is both hot and moist, and despite everything I've tried to do, the setsi flies are multiplying alarmingly. Oh, look at that tiny child. Almost completely wasted away. She is but one of many. I suggest that you do not remain here more than a few moments. The elephant path leading north from here... I am afraid it's quite impossible to continue traveling tonight. Mr. Stevens is exhausted. Gale has only now begun to see the things I hope will make her grow into a woman. And I have not closed my eyes for many nights. Well, I'll give you my own hut. It's reasonably clean, and there are a few pieces of mosquito netting about, but you're taking a great risk. Tarzan isn't afraid of risk. He's the lord of the jungle. You're very kind, Dr. Kurusa. We'll take advantage of your offer, and in the morning we'll move on. I'll show you to the hut. You're welcome to it for the one night. I hope it will not prove one night too many. All right, Gale. This isn't so bad. I still think you ought to have one of these pieces of mosquito netting, Tarzan. We have clothing to protect us. Try to get some sleep, Mr. Stevens. We must start early in the morning. Well, all right then. Good night, Gale. Night, Tarzan. Good night. Something bit me. I don't know what. There, on the ground, beside you, a large brown fly. What setsy fly? Gale, get that native doctor. That doctor. What's his name? Maybe he can... No, there's no sense in getting excited. Many of the flies are not infectious. How long does it take to... I mean, if it wasn't infectious, fly, how long does it take? I don't know. Some say the disease strikes at once. Others claim you have it for days before you... before you... Tarzan, what's wrong? You look so strange. My head, everything's beginning to whirl. I guess... I guess it was an infected fly. Maybe I bet it... In just a moment, the very strange conclusion of our story, death has small wings. Tarzan could feel consciousness draining from him. He struck his head. And yet, although he could neither move nor speak, there was no black pit of unconsciousness, but instead a sort of twilight grave in which he could see and hear Gale's terror. You've got to save him, doctor. Mr. Stevens' queerless concern. He's our only chance. And the practiced examination of the negro doctor. Suddenly Gale and Mr. Stevens dissolved in a purple mist. Now the hut was filled with burly natives and Tarzan could feel them lifting his body from the ground. He was being carried through the village on the shoulders. Only now he couldn't see. The gray of his mind had turned to sable blackness. They'd stopped carrying him. They'd put him down someplace and gone away. It was getting lighter now. Day was breaking and Tarzan was feeling better. He was feeling a lot better. He opened his eyes and looked up into a face that was familiar and yet strange. Who are you? Now, now. You've been sick. Must not waste your strength an idle question. You, you look like Dr. Carl Rosa, the native doctor. But your skin is white. You see those mountains in the distance? Mountains? They're called a denny? Yes, I, I, I do see them. What color would you say a door on their peaks? Color? I'd call it a sort of rosy pink. Not orange? Yes, it might be described as orange. And yet some people might call it red or yellow or even golden. You see, my friend, color is only in the eyes of the observer. Here we do not call a man black nor white, brown nor yellow. We're all one in this land. In this land? Where have they brought me? It is not for me to explain matters. Even now the high one awaits our coming. The high one? The chief of this land? Your ruler? We have no ruler. We need none. Will you follow me along this path? Yes, of course. You walk without difficulty? Seems strange, but I've never felt stronger nor healthier. And this is a strange path, like one through my beloved jungle, and yet the rocks do not hurt the feet and the bushes have no thorns. There it is so. Am, am I a prisoner here? No more than other fish prisoners in their stream over there. Look at them, hundreds of them leaping over the rocks. Now if I had my spear, I could, we do not kill in this land. Food is provided without the need to kill it. Sounds ridiculous, perhaps, but tell me, have I died? Is this the land of spirits? Ah, here comes the high one. He's coming to welcome you. It's Mr. Stevens. Mr. Stevens dressed in a long robe and with a white beard, this is the strangest thing I've ever... Welcome to our land, man of the jungle. You speak as though I were a stranger to you, as though we hadn't spent the last few weeks together. Indeed, we have spent countless centuries together. For are we not both men and thus brothers? This is crazy. I must be delirious. Ah, you speak thus. Because always in the past when you entered a strange land, you were surrounded by unfriendly people who held spears at your back and threatened you with knives and other implements of war. Is that not so? Yes, I guess that's what I was thinking. Perhaps the delirium exists in those lands. But come, you are hungry, and we have food prepared for you. The dining hall is but a few steps away if you'll come with us. I've never seen such a beautiful place. The marble columns, the golden ceiling. Ah, you see, High One, he's learning already. In his eyes, the columns are of marble and the ceiling of gold. Daughter, bring food for the hungry traveler. Even now, Father. Gale, you are Gale? My name is Abigail. It is a Hebrew name. I have never been called Gale, though a few souls have sometimes called me Abbey in jest. You have never been called Gale? No, I have not. It's fantastic. You look somewhat different in your long robes, look unaccustomed, but I would have sworn you- I should place the food on this low table and you can sit on this brocaded cushion. You will find it most comfortable. When you have refreshed yourself with food and drink, we will talk again. Peace be with you. I too will leave you now, I guess, so that you may feast undisturbed. If you wish anything more, summon me by clapping your hands. No, no, don't go, please. I want to talk to you. I shall be happy to stay if you desire my presence. Here, I shall sit beside you on this other cushion. There. You once vowed to get eaten with me, Gale. Is this crazy world I found myself in part of your scheme? I have never seen you before this day. My name is Abigail, not Gale, and vengeance is unknown in this land of ours. But why do you have troubled thoughts? Do you not like our country? Oh, it is beautiful, but somehow strange and unreal. The way the birds fly, blithely in and out of the windows of this palace, the manner in which the small beasts of the forest peer in without fear of man. They have no need to fear us, nor have you any cause for fear. You keep watching me so strangely, and yet my only desire is to serve you. That's what I can understand. Your desire to be helpful for the Gale, you resemble strangely thought only of herself. A girl who thought only of herself? Oh, but that was in another land. And your father, in that other world, he was weak and spineless. Here, he's a tower of strength who's called the High One. What is the secret of it all? Our only secret, if we have one, is that here we know not the meaning of fear. And without fear, there is no evil. Look behind you. A panther? I have no fear. And I have no knife, but I will battle him with my bare hands as I have many times before. Sit down, jungle man, for the panther is as gentle as a kitten. What? He's fawning against you like a household pet. Of course. He wants to be petted. There you are. Now run along, Primus. Get our guests more food. I don't know what this land is all about, Abigail, or how I got here, but perhaps this is the place I've hunted for all my life. The dominion of peace I was never able to find in the jungles or in the cities of the world. I hoped you would say that, for if you accept our land, it will accept you. I will open my heart to you and do your bidding always. You are my beloved daughter, Noble Tarzan. I am afraid you will not think me noble, nor grateful for your acts of kindness to me. One man cannot judge another. What is it, Tarzan? He wants to leave our land. Well, he has not yet taken our vow. It's hard to explain High One. When I first came, I thought this was the paradise I had always longed for. And it is not. We have failed in some way. Ah, the failure is in me. I am unready for a land in which there are no wars, no angry words, no raging elements, a country that knows no weapons, whose animals are all peaceful as doves. I cannot hunt, nor is there any need to grow food, for it springs up in profusion without care. There's no need to build a shelter, for it never rains, no snows. There is no need to do anything. You are bored with our life. I hate to call it that, and yet I am a man of the jungle, used to fighting for survival, used to matching my wits against others. This land is too peaceful for the lord of the jungle. I am unhappy here. But perhaps a taste of your old world would make you change your mind. Should you leave us, we would all miss you. Abigail, perhaps more than the others. I will. I will miss you, Tarzan. Perhaps you will return, my daughter. Tarzan, never before have we given anyone the opportunity to taste of our fruit, to reject it, and then to return. But to you, the opportunity shall be given. What do you mean? Behold this small vial, a tiny flask containing a small amount of colorless liquid. When you drink of it, you will be returned to the world you left. It sounds like some native voodoo. Perhaps it is. Now behold this second vial containing an amber liquid. Hold it firmly in your right hand, guard it, treasure it. Should you find your old world displeasing now that you have tasted ours, drink the contents of the second vial, and you shall be returned here. Take them. Thank you. You are leaving. I'm sorry. I must drink the contents of the first vial, but I will guard the other carefully. If your mind is made up, then drink. I shall. Goodbye, Tarzan. He's coming too, Mr. Stevens. He is indeed. At last. I was afraid for a while his death would be on my soul. I insisted on coming here to call her, Denny. The color is coming back to his face, Dr. Colrusa. What's happened? Hi, one. Abigail? I don't know what you're talking about, but you've certainly given us a scare. You've been unconscious for weeks. And Gail and I thought you were a goner. But now you've passed the crisis. I think you'll be all right. The liquid in the vial worked. I gave you no liquid. I've been giving you liberal doses of Bayer 205. It's frequently effective when you catch the disease in its early stage. Have I been here all the time? What are you talking about? Of course you've been here. Where else would you be? I guess everything I thought was happening occurred only in my feverish mind. You did mumble constantly as though your mind was filled with many strange delirious thoughts. But you've had two good nurses, Gail and Mr. Stevens. I think they've learned a few things while you've been unconscious. I have learned, Tarzan. Hey, we both have. Tarzan, what in the world are you clutching in your right hand? What? I don't know. I'm not sure. Well, open it. Let's see. A tiny vial filled with this strange, amber-colored liquid. What in the world did you get? No, Gail. I'll give it back. Gail, what are you doing with it? You broke it. The liquid's gone. Of course it is. I don't know what it is or where you got it, but we have to watch what you eat and drink very carefully. You've taught us a great lesson, and it's up to us to nurse you back to health. Yeah, that's right. You see, while you were ill, Tarzan, Gail resolved to spend the rest of her life helping the sick. And I've decided that whatever money I have will be devoted to advancing the cure of tropical diseases. We can't afford to lose our first patient. Well, at least I'm glad I came back. It's nice to know that miracles can happen in this world, too. We'd like you to remain with us for another few moments so that we may tell you about our next exciting story of Tarzan. Often have men asked the origin of Tarzan's courage. How can a man steal his nerve against the terrors of the jungle? How can he boldly face a giant gorilla, a rhino, or a mad bull elephant with only his bare hands as weapons? Ruka, a native youth who knows he's to be poisoned before the next moon is passed, looks for a source of courage, and he finds it in Tarzan's magic amulet. 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 Glasser. This is a Commodore production.