 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 bronze white son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of Tarzan and the Simba Haudari. The beautiful Bukama Falls in the Belgian Congo cascaded down almost 500 feet to his seething cauldron appropriately named the Boiling Pot. But fantastic as it seems, the waters only a few hundred feet above the falls are as peaceful and calm as a mountain lake. There Tarzan had stopped to refresh himself, to float on his back and to laugh with the sheer joy of living. Suddenly, from the turbulent waters of the rapids came a man's frantic scream. Tarzan's body arched as he turned over and swam with powerful strokes toward the angry violence of the rapids. Help me, someone! Try to hold on to that scrub, Drosz! I'm trying! The current's still strong! It's pulling me away! Hold on! I'm trying to reach you! I can't hold on any longer! Don't let go! There's a 500 foot drop, nothing but rocks below! I'm trying! Drosz! I'm done! I'm done! I've got you! Don't fight against me! I'm almost at the falls! This is the end! Grab my arm! I can reach that overhanging limb we might be able to! I reached it! Hold tight while I try to pull you up! All right! Got you! Now relax! Let me! Only this old limb will bear our weight until... The tree's packing! We'll never make it! Now we can try! You managed to cheat the rapids? Here, stretch out and rest for a moment. Tell me, how you were swept into that water? I wasn't swept in. I waited and tried to retrieve a piece of paper. You waited into the rapids to retrieve a piece of paper? A very valuable one, I assure you. Must have been. Was it a map to a secret gold mine? Nothing like that, but it was all that I had left from the things I brought into the jungle. Native bearers deserted me and took everything I had. But right over there, I could see a rifle, your tent roll and your food pack. Oh, yes, of course. Yet you say your bearers robbed you. Of everything that matters. My notebook that contained 18 years of research. They missed only that one page, the one that was blown into the water. I can't imagine what they wanted with my notes. What were the notes about? Anthropology. Yes, I'm Professor Reynolds, and I've spent many years preparing materials on the primitive man. The superstitions and the solution to his native fears. Professor, my name is Tarzan, and I've spent my lifetime in the jungle among these primitive people you've studied. I find it absolutely impossible to believe they were interested in your scientific papers. Oh, but they were Tarzan. I discussed the subject with them at some length. They were very helpful. I learned all about them and their tribe. What tribe did they belong to? Oh, we never mentioned names. I have the remotest idea what tribe they belong to. I see. But it's very important that I get my papers back. Professor Reynolds, where did you get that piece of native jewelry you're wearing around your neck? Oh, the little gold lion? Yes. Here, I picked up in the native bazaar at Mombasa. They don't sell tribal symbols in Mombasa? Tribal symbols? Well, perhaps I didn't get it in Mombasa. I've collected so many things here in Africa. Maybe this is one of the pieces I bought from my bearers. From the same bearers who overlooked an expensive rifle and valuable supplies to steal a notebook they probably couldn't read? Well, yes, yes. Professor Reynolds, I'll help you find those bearers. Perhaps when we find them, we'll also find out how you came into possession of that sacred symbol of Africa's lost tribe. A symbol that a member of that tribe is not allowed to give up under penalty of death. In just a moment, we'll return to our story of Tarzan and the Simba Hodari. Tarzan and Professor Reynolds started for the hills of Bo'ua in the Middle Congo. Because of the heat, they traveled at night. And as they entered the rocky country, they saw a silhouette against the moon, animals, whose gaunt frames reflected the scarceness of food. Now, as the travelers penetrated deep into the barren rock-studded hills, a hunger-crazed hyena suddenly leaped upon Tarzan's normal-holding legs. Surprised by the attack, Tarzan went down, and his knife dropped from a cheese and went skittering across the rocks. My knife! Professor, I have to find it. I don't know how much longer I can hold it by the throat. It's too dark. I can't find it. I pick up a rock. I can't hold it. Professor! A rock, professor! I've got... Magnificent, Tarzan. Imagine killing an animal like that with your bare hands. I wouldn't have had to use my bare hands if you'd found my knife or tried to help me in some way. Well, I'm not much good at that sort of thing. Where is that knife? It's dark here. Tarzan, you've led me to the most barren part of the entire Congo. What makes you think the lost tribe, as you call it, is located in this district? It's known that when they started their trek from the lowlands, they headed in this direction. But why should they have chosen such a remote spot? Because it was remote. Their beliefs are supposedly far different from those of other native tribes, and they warred constantly with them until they migrated here. I see. The moon's coming out from behind those clouds. Now I can find my knife. Oh, here it is. Is it broken? Something wrong? No, it's not broken. Something is very wrong. You must have searched very earnestly for my knife, Professor. Your footprint reveals that you stepped on it while you were looking. Well, you found their village all right, Tarzan, but it doesn't look any different from any other native village. No, it's just an ordinary jungle village, lazy in the sun. It appears completely harmless, just as you do. Looks are often deceptive, Professor Reynolds. Oh, you mustn't pull that little fare of the knife against me. After all, you came out of it with hardly a scratch. No thanks to you. No one seems to be paying the slightest attention to us. Nevertheless, it's good you took the symbol of the golden lion from about your throat. If they saw you wearing their sacred hat. Now you're right. That is their symbol. They're all wearing it. Just like the bearers who stole my notebook. The gold lion. What does it mean, Tarzan? I don't know, Professor. It must be awfully important to them. See, there's a huge lion carved on that pole beside the hem of their king. How do you know he's called a king? Not a chief. How do you know that's his place we're coming to? Well, the whole story is carved on that post. Very plain to those who can read their language. Really? But I still doubt they can read yours, Professor. That they'd have any use for the notebook you've claimed to have lost. I don't know why you're so suspicious of me. What are you doing? One does not enter a man's home without announcing himself, especially when a man's a king. This elephant horn is hung here for the convenience of callers. This is their substitute for a doorbell. I don't know. How do you know about that? What to, Cheyote? What gave me? What's going on? He asked who came. I told him white men, strangers. He's given us permission to enter. Oh, come on. What are you staring at over there? Nothing. All right. Let's go in. Jombo. Jombo again. You got me. Really? What'd he ask you? How many of us there were? Can't you see he's blind? I thought he looked rather... Hey, look, doesn't he speak any English? No deal. Speak much fine English. Was safari guide for white men when young for become kippofu happened on safari? Something happened on a safari to cause your blindness? Not talk about what make blind. What strangers want here? My name is Tarzan, and this is Professor Reynolds. He engaged several barers in Mombasa a few months ago, and he believes the men were of your tribe. The professor claims the men stole something of value from him. No member bow a tribe steal, not even thing of small value. Penalty for steal is death. For stealing anything? No deal. A death penalty even for petty thievery? That's something. What in the world is the punishment for a serious crime like, say, murder? Not punish murder. What? You have much to learn about primitive men, Professor Reynolds. This is not the only tribe that punishes stealing with death and permits murderers to escape by doing penance. But why? Well they believe that a man who steals even a small can of food from his master will steal again. That he'll always be bad. But that any man may have the misfortune to be carried away by anger and kill another. Well then one member of this tribe is courting death. What do you mean? I recognize one of the barers outside. You see man who rob you? I certainly did. White man prove he tell truth, man kill bring one you accuse to me. Hey Tarzan, don't let him escape. He's the one I recognize back in the village. Don't let him. Stop it. I just want to ask you some questions. Please, please, not to stop me. Please let me go. I mean you know how. I only want to know if you took a notebook from Professor Reynolds. Tomorrow I answer question. If you stop me now, you bring death to all poor people. If I stop you it will... How is it you're not wearing the sacred symbol around your throat? Please let me go. Tomorrow I answer all questions. I promise not run away. All right, all right, go back to the village. You better hurry before Professor Reynolds catches up with his... Santa, great lord of jungle, Santa. Tarzan, Tarzan! Over here. You see you didn't catch the rascal. Well it doesn't matter. The king will round up the whole tribe now that I can show him concrete evidence Now here's a man who stole my notebook. You now have concrete evidence? I'll say I do. Here's one of the pages from my notebook. The rest of the pages are nailed to the trees backed by those big rocks. Nailed to the trees? In a big circle. I don't know what it means, but there's no doubt now that... All right, Professor Reynolds. We'll gather up the pages. And then we'll go back to the village and have another talk with the king. No, not go back. I'm a native girl. Go back and tell father stole. They kill him. Your father's the one who stole my notebook. How do you happen to be out here away from the village? Maya see white men chase father this way. She thinks maybe you'll find papers. But please, not tell king. Father made no harm in steel. Only to save us from Simba Hodari. Simba Hodari? What nut devil's that? It means the clever lion. But what connection these papers can have with some sort of an idol is more than I can figure out. Simba Hodari, not idol. Real lion who killed Boa one at a time. He come and knives into a village, kill man, women, children, tiny babies. Watch. Tonight you'll see. In just a moment, the action-packed conclusion of Tarzan and the Simba Hodari. As night descended like a shroud over the village of Boa, Tarzan and Professor Reynolds took a place of vantage to watch for the Simba Hodari. This was no longer the peaceful village they had seen by day, but a terror-stricken wasteland of fear. The men tossed sleeplessly on their mats or peered anxiously from the doorways of their huts. The women quaked with fear and gazed nervously into the darkness of the night. And the children cried out in their sleep or sat upright in sudden alarm. All of them waited for the coming of the Simba Hodari. And as the tropical dawn began to paint the heavens, he came, a tawny, muscular giant of a lion appearing from out of nowhere and gliding majestically forward in quest of human meat. Where are you going, Tarzan? That lion's a man-eater. I'm going to stop him before he has a chance. But that native's going to fight him. Let's see how he makes out. Maybe he can... Take your hands off me, Reynolds. I'll just go and clear up. He's made this until now. It's too late. I can throw my knife. You struck him. My knife's sticking in his flank, but it didn't stop him. Tarzan! Tarzan! You throw knife in your Simba Hodari. He's against law, boohoo. Against the law, but that animal that has just claimed the life of one of your tribe. Lion sacred. You ask why I blind. I tell now, when young man before I king leads safari, lion spring, I fire, lion kill, I struck blind. He's keep hopeful now. But you may have been blinded by any number of things. Many diseases cause... God! Make prisoner of man who would kill Simba Hodari. I won't be taking prisoner because I tried to help. I... I... I... Well, he wasn't so tough. It only took 20 of your men to subdue him. Put Tarzan change. Take prison hut. And you suppose you might have a place for me to sleep? There's some things I'd like to talk over with you in the morning. Your Majesty. Yes, Steve. Food is very hard to get here. I hate to deprive you. It was for morning meal of father. He not need now. Oh? The Simba Hodari? Last night, it was him you tried to save. I'm... I'm very sorry. Maya, I noticed that you and the king are the only ones who speak English here. How is it that you happen to speak it? King Maya, my grandfather. He teached. And the man who was killed last night? Your father, was he the son of the king? Yes, Tarzan. He put me in chains for trying to save his own son. Maya. Maya, can you possibly try to release me from these chains? No. Only king has key. Well, I have two objectives now. Getting free and beginning to understand this whole crazy affair. Maya, tell me. Could your father read English? No. Well, then why did he steal Professor Reynolds' book? White men say book tell how natives get rid demons and enemies. Father take, put pages round cave of Simba Hodari to frighten way. He, he risked being sentenced to death for stealing in order to find a charm against the clever lion who's been praying on this village, huh? He won't save his people. He gave his life. And yet the Simba Hodari is still free to kill. Is still free to kill? Simba Hodari wounded, but come again tonight. Maya, no. Yes, I, I only wounded him last night, Maya. But tonight I shall kill him. Chains are not. I promise you. But that night Tarzan still wrestled with his chains. From his prison hut he could look out, but his bonds were as impregnable as bands of steel. Some distance away from the council ring stood the children and Professor Reynolds. And then Tarzan saw the dim shadow of the cunning Simba Hodari. He was about to strike again. The lion moved smoothly, quickly, cleverly. A huge talon struck out and a child fell to the ground. It was Maya. The screams of the other children were drowned by the sounds of the drums and the chanting. And Professor Reynolds, the one man who might have done something, made no move as the lion dragged Maya into the shadows. Tarzan struggled furiously, but the chains still would not yield. In angry frustration he raised his great voice. Tarzan, why you make screams like bully? That's Maya. The Simba Hodari has dragged Maya off to his lair. Maya? Unfasten this chain. Will you let me free so that I can save her? She's not already dead. No. Simba Hodari, once life, he take. Oh, not rise against him. But this is your own granddaughter you're speaking of. If the Simba Hodari must be given a life, give him one, mine, yours, anyone's, but not that of a child. Sir, Muriel, maybe he do accept other life. Yes. Yes, he will. Now, let's not waste any more time with words. Undo me and let me follow him to his lair, will you? Muriel, we undo, but Simba Hodari must have life of Bo'ua. Tarzan, Tarzan, take me to cave. Well, this is a novel twist. Quiet rentals. We have things to settle later. All right, King. Come on. Tell your men to take these chains from me now. Undo me. Undo me. And I'll need a knife too. I give knife, but Tarzan not go without me. King give life for child mire. Tarzan, this cave Simba Hodari? Yes. And mire was still alive when he dragged her in. I can see the signs of her struggle here. Come. Hurry. Not let go, Han. No, I'm almost as blind in here as you are. It's not a single crack of light. Well, my Tarzan Simba Hodari. I can't tell. It's not a single breath of air stirring and no sound. Me afraid, mire already dead. Simba Hodari, lie quiet in corner. Wait, spring at us. No, I don't know. Perhaps. Now, just hold my hand and we'll begin to work our way along this wall here. Wait. It's you. Tarzan, it's mire. Come on. Tell me, what is Tarzan? What happens? King, mire. Mire in that corner. And she's kneeling beside that lion. Why? I cannot understand. Yes. He is dying. Simba carry mire here. Drag inside caves but lose much blood. Mire try help him. Pull Tarzan's knife from side. Make bleed worse. He's sad. Lonely now. Simba Hodari, he's dead. Come, mire. We'll go outside and face some other problems now. Tarzan, where are you going? Away. My job here is finished, Professor Reynolds. But, but what's he telling him? What's he saying? That the Simba Hodari is dead, killed by my knife. But that I was not struck blind or hurt in any way. He's told him that the lion is no longer sacred and that they are to elect a king who will do away with all death penalties and all beliefs that lead to death. Well, that rounds out another chapter in my book. But it didn't work out quite the way I planned it. The way you planned it? Of course. You see, it's a symbol as you suspected. And I displayed it to you with full knowledge that you'd leave me here. I see. So then you were able to stand by and see a man killed, huh? You watched while I battled for my life with a hunger-crazed hyena. You saw a little girl drag to almost certain death. You must have a great deal of material for your book. Naturally. A true scientist never becomes involved in experiments himself. He's merely an impartial observer. Professor Reynolds, I am not a scientist, but I know that your book will be as great a failure as you are. You can't write about mankind without understanding men. You can't be an expert on the human race unless you yourself are human. In just a moment, a word about our next story of Tarzan. In our next story, you'll hear about the forbidden land of Zoroka, ruled by the fanatical power of a mighty jewel. You'll meet two American adventurers and a beautiful white queen, all doomed to die under the spell of the Great Stone. It is the great white son of the jungle who becomes imprisoned within the dungeon of the palace, only to make his escape, and then to rid the country of the Omen of the Emerald. Included in our cast were Jack Moyles, Jill Oppenheim, and Sidney Mason. Tarzan is a transcribed creation of the famous Edgar Rice Burroughs. He's produced by Walter White Jr., prepared for radio by Bud Lesser with original music by Albert Glasser. This is a Commodore production. Listen to our next story, the Omen of the Emerald, another thrilling episode of The Lord of the Jungle.