 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 of jungle heat. The ocean liner, African pride, was dark at Mombasa the next day. But so far the dignified looking woman with a pretty daughter had spoken to no one aboard. She was too wrapped up in her great problem. And the gray-haired gentleman who occupied the deck chair next to her did not intrude on her privacy. His mind was well occupied with the problem, too. They might never have spoken if a rough sea had not suddenly caused the deck to heave, sending the gentleman's teacup flying. I say I'm dreadfully sorry. I hope none of the tea landed on you. Oh, it doesn't matter. But of course it matters. I'd be happy to have it cleaned when we land. Provided they have a cleaning establishment in a town like Mombasa, Africa. You don't care for Africa? I should say not. I was there once as a young man, beastly place. Then why are you returning? Business. Business. I'd give a pretty penny to be clear on. It's rather a complicated matter. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. Not at all. I volunteer the information. It's rather an interesting story, as a matter of fact. A certain Lord Grey Stoke and his wife, the Lady Alice, were marooned in Africa many years ago. Unable to find their way back to civilization, they built a cabin, settled down, and had a child in the heart of the jungle. I think I remember reading something about it. Quite. It received a great deal of notoriety, especially when the whole story came out years later. It seems a band of savage apes killed Lord and Lady Grey Stoke, took the baby and raised it. He spent most of his life in the African jungles, but nevertheless, he is the heir to the Grey Stoke title and the family fortune. How lucky for him. I hope I can make him realize it. My purpose in going to Africa is to persuade him to return to England with me and take his rightful place in British society. You see, I've recently been appointed Solicitor for his late father's estate. Then you're a lawyer. To an American lawyer, to a British Solicitor. Forgive me for having overlooked the social amenities. My card, madam. Hugh Hutchins, Esquire, Solicitor, Brookstreet Mayfair. Quite. I'm Louise Wells, and as you surmised, I'm an American. My daughter and I are taking a trip around the world. I've noticed your daughter, extremely attractive girl. As she can't be much of a sailor though, she hardly pokes her nose out of your cabin. She's being a martyr. I brought her on this trip against her will, and she's getting even with me by refusing to be civil to anyone. She resents, or having taken her from the man she fancies herself in love with? Mr. Hutchins. It's quite all right, really. We Solicitors, lawyers, are like family doctors. But you needn't talk about it, if you'd rather not, Mrs. Wells. I think I would like to talk about it. You don't know how terrible it is to have no one to turn to. You see, Mr. Hutchins, I'm a widow. Yes. My husband was in the brewery business. Oh, he made a great deal of money. I've seen to it that Carol has every advantage of education and travel, and, well, you know. And now she wants to throw herself away on a young man who hasn't a penny. And she's entitled to the best. She's very lovely. Well, I've always thought so. And I'm sure it's not just parental pride. Why, wherever we've gone, there have been dozens of eligible men begging for dates. I'm not surprised. Have you seen that Oriental potentate who's on board? I haven't seen him, but I've certainly heard the infernal racket coming from his suite. He's got his own native orchestra. The captain told me about him. His name's Pasha Kamar Benzeda Bay, and he's on his way home. He spends half each year in Europe. He caught a glimpse of Carol one day, and he begged the ship's captain to introduce him to her. And she refused for it blank. They say he's a handsome devil, too. Oh, nothing makes any difference. She won't have anything to do with any of the men who admire her. She may change her mind if she sees one who appeals to her. I do hope it's the right one this time. I suppose you'd like one with a title, a fortune, and perhaps a villa on the Riviera? I wouldn't mind. Well, I wish you luck, Mrs. Wells. And I wish you luck. I hope you're successful in getting your English lord to quit the jungle in favor of Mayfair. Oh, I'm not worried. I'll be gentle and persuasive at first, but if that doesn't work, I'm not without ingenuity. We'll return to our story of Tarzan in just a moment. Far from the port where the African pride was docking, Tarzan crouched motionlessly in the crotch of a tree. From the fetid swamp land, he had caught the scent of Gimla, the crocodile, and that of man. He swung rapidly from tree to tree until he had reached the swamp's edge, but he was too late. Over a hundred yards from him lay an exhausted man who grasped in vain for a hole on a slime-covered rock, and the crocodile was only a few feet from its intended victim. There was little chance that Tarzan could kill the reptile from such a distance, but he fitted a metal-tipped arrow to his bowstring, drew the shaft back with all the power at his command, and released the arrow. The crocodile leaped into the air, then fell back dead. That poor creature out of that foul quagmire. I've come to save you. Yes, but it's best to hold your tongue and save your strength. I'll carry you to a dry place. I thought you were some sort of a savage. Don't look like any civilized man. It's unfortunate that there are no mirrors here in the jungle. You must have a weak growth of beard on your face, your clothes are torn and filthy, and your body is scratched from thorns and burnt from the equatorial sun. It's been terrible. The animals and the swamps. A nice soft bed of moss, I'll put you down. There you are. Thanks. That was quite a shot you made. I was lucky. I didn't think I could pierce the crocodile's tough hide from that distance. Tell me, where are your burrows in the scurry? I couldn't afford to hire. You came into the jungle alone? Why? I spent all my money for passage on a tramp steamer that landed in Benguela. I thought maybe I could reach Mombasa on foot. I have to get there. You must have an extremely important mission in Mombasa that takes such a risk. I suppose I'm a fool. A mission is hopeless anyway. You want to tell me about it? I suppose so. In the first place, I'm in love. Ah, a reason for much happiness. And an equal amount of suffering. I suppose so. Well, anyway, Carol's mother didn't approve of me. She took her on a trip around the world, kept my letters from her, saw to it that she didn't have a chance to write me. But Carol managed to sneak a card to me from the last place they stopped. She said if I could meet her in Mombasa, she'd run away from her mother and we could be married. You sound like an American. Both your speech and your foolhardy bravery in coming into the jungle alone proclaim your nationality. Yes, I am an American, but I guess my foolhardy bravery has been wasted. By this time, Carol and her mother are in Mombasa, and by the time I can get there, they're... You're in no condition to travel now. I shall take you to my seacoast cabin and nurse you back to health. When you're fit again, I shall try to help you plan your next move. Tarzan carried the young man through the sweltering jungle. And almost at the same time, the heat had begun to make a change in Hugh Hutchins' Asquire, the ordinarily imperturbable British solicitor. He strolled back and forth in a small heat-drenched hotel room in Mombasa. Africa. Why he has to live in this miserable country I'll never know. Well, it's about time. Good afternoon, Mr. Hutchins. I am Mr. Fitzhugh, the manager of the hotel you sent for me. I certainly did. Come in. Yes, of course. I do hope you're finding everything satisfactory. I am finding everything most unsatisfactory. In the first place, I want that infernal music stopped. I'm afraid that's quite impossible. It comes from the suite of the Pasha Ben Zedah Bey. I might have known. I'm sorry there's nothing I can do about the music. But you see, when the Pasha stops at Mombasa, he occupies a whole floor in the hotel. He's one of the richest and most powerful men in Africa. If there's anything else I can do? I don't suppose there's anything you can do about this infernal heat. We are hoping for some sort of air conditioning unit in a few years. I can't wait a few years for an air conditioning unit, nor to find the man I've come to Africa for. If I can be of any assistance? Perhaps you can. His name is John Clayton, Lord Grey Stoke. The only address I have is Africa. It's quite an address. But it so happens that Lord Grey Stoke is known to practically everyone, from Cape Town to Cairo. Here he's called Tarzan. So he still uses that ridiculous name. Ridiculous? It doesn't matter. Could you have a letter delivered to him for me? Perhaps, but it wouldn't do any good, Mr. Hutchins. He emerges from the jungle only to help those in great trouble. Well, I might. No, I'll go to him. Can you secure a guide for me? Of course. Consider yourself practically at his doorstep now. How much farther do we have to go through this miserable jungle? Reach Tarzan's seacoast cabin soon. Pugna people say he there now. And I certainly hope so. This infernal heat is quite unbearable. Is hot time here? Not always so hot. How anyone in his right mind could choose the jungle in preference to a country place in Sussex is more than I can figure. The explanation is really quite simple. Why? Where did you come from? From the tree above you. No one draws this close to my cabin without detection. Here's Tarzan. You're Lord Grey Stoke? As the natives said, I am Tarzan. But I mean really. You are John Clayton, son of the late Lord and Lady Grey Stoke? Yes. Allow me to present my card. Hugh Hutchins, Solicitor, Brook Street, Mayfair, London, of course. Of course. Is there somewhere we could talk? My cabin is being occupied by a man suffering from exhaustion, but it's highly unlikely that the panthers and lions will disturb us here. Lord Grey Stoke, I've come thousands of miles to persuade you to give up this primordial life and return to London. Why? The Solicitor who previously managed your late father's affairs passed away a short time ago, and I've recently taken over his duties. I've found a vast fortune just lying useless. Well, that is wrong. Go ahead. Use it. What? Feed the poor. Take care of the sick. Build homes for the homeless. But there are government agencies to handle such matters. Then send the money here. We have many poor who are not taken care of by the government. That's quite out of the question. The Bank of England would never approve the use of such a sum of money for that purpose. Really, Lord Grey Stoke, you must return. I shall have to be quite firm about it. Mr Hutchins, how much do you earn as Solicitor of my fortune? Very little, while it remains so completely inactive. I see. But that isn't the point. The crux of the matter is that it's criminal for a titled English gentleman to dress and live like a savage. Mr Hutchins, I remain here through choice. I have visited England and I found much about it to my liking, but my heart is here in the jungle. But rarely, Lord Grey Stoke. I would suggest that you return home as soon as possible. Goodbye. Thousand koi. Into the trees like one of those apes who raised him. What in the name of heaven was that? That thousand koi. We go back to Mombasa now? Yes, back to Mombasa. Through this crawling jungle, through this grolling heat. But I'll figure out a way to make Tarzan leave the jungle. Somehow or other, I'll make him change his tune. The exciting conclusion of jungle heat in just a moment. The cities, as well as the jungle, labored under the great pall of tropical heat. It was responsible, in part, for Hugh Hutchins' unreasonable determination to take Tarzan from the jungle. It had a great deal to do with the Pasha Kamar Benzeda Bey's reluctance to start his journey into the interior. And it affected the temper of Mrs. Louise Wells. There were some things, however, for which the heat was blamed, and for which it was not responsible. It's just the heat that's got you down, Carol. The house physician says there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. I don't feel up to traveling, Mother. We'll just have to stay in Mombasa until I feel better. But we've already missed two boats. Are we going to spend the rest of our lives in Africa? Oh, I don't know. I don't care much. No, I suppose you don't. You don't care about anything but hearing from Bob Hale. Has there been some message from him? Message? From Bob? Oh, we are likely to hear from him. No, no, I guess not. I don't know what I was thinking of. But we did have another message from the Pasha. He's still very anxious to meet you. Yes, Mother, I know. I think, if you don't mind, I'll take another little nap. Well, I'm not going to do my sightseeing through a hotel window. I'm going to visit some of those wonderful native stalls. Have a good time, Mother. Perhaps in a few days I'll... A folly, ungrateful girl. I give up my life for her, and she doesn't... The thousand pardons, Mother, are beauty. Pasha, come on. What a pleasant surprise to bump into you. Our meeting, Gracious One, is no accident. I have waited some hours to encounter you once again. Oh, how flattering. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. No wait. However long would be too great for the pleasure I have anticipated. Oh. I come to you with a token. I wish you to deliver to the goddess of beauty your estimable daughter. A little gift for Carol. How sweet. You will accept the token? Why, of course. I think the giving of little presents is a lovely custom. The men in America are inclined to forget how much women appreciate gifts. In your hand, I place the gift. So, we will meet before the new moon has come to discuss the arrangements. Until then, may Allah guard well, my white pearl. Oh, wait. Pasha, just a minute. Is something wrong, Mrs. Well? Mr. Hutchins, I thought you'd gone into the jungle. I got back last night. You seem upset. I am. I was just talking to that Pasha fellow, and he said he had a gift for Carol, and he handed it to me. And by the time I glanced down at it, he was gone. Look. Look what he gave me. Emerald. The largest one I've ever seen. Must be weather fabulous for him. And he said such strange things about discussing arrangements and the new moon. It's clear that the jewel is his payment for Carol. It's his bride. Oh dear. But of course he is a titled gentleman. Royalty even. And you yourself said he had a fortune. And several hundred other wives. I'll give the jewel right back. Why, I'll go to his suite. And probably be the cause of an international incident. No, Mrs. Wells, such matters are not that easily settled in Africa. What can I do? Put matters in my hands, my dear Mrs. Wells. I am a solicitor, you know. Oh, of course. But I'll pay you any fee you name if you get me out of this. I want no money. But there is a little favor that you could do for me. It concerns Tarzan. Who? Lord Grey Stoke. I want you to write him a letter. Tell him that Carol is in great danger. Perhaps that is not much of an exaggeration now. Write that you are two women alone in Africa. And from what you have heard of him, you are sure he's the only one who can save your daughter. And then he'll come here. He'll see Carol. And he'll be smitten as the others. Perhaps. He has a title too. And a fortune. And he comes from a fine old English family. Isn't that what you said, Mr. Hutchins? Quite. You'll make no mistake in writing the letter. Oh, of course I'll write it. I'll write anything you tell me to. Yes, Bob. I thought I'd find you still asleep. I heard all that shouting and confusion outside a few minutes ago. Tried to reach the window to see what was happening, but I couldn't quite make it. Some punya warriors arrived with a letter for me. And coming of a barua in the jungle is quite an event. I don't wonder if I were the native male man. I think it was quite an event if I managed to deliver a letter here. It is dangerous even for those who know the jungle well. And that is why I am angry. Oh. A week ago, while you were hovering between life and death, a gentleman came into the jungle to persuade me to give up my life here and go to England. I refused. And now he sends a letter designed to bring me as far as Mombasa, the first leg of the journey to England. Well, if he couldn't persuade you in person, how could he expect the letter to do the trick? Oh, the letter doesn't bear his signature, of course. But the ruse is obvious. Listen to this. My dear Tarzan, you do not know me since I am an American woman, Mrs. Louise Wells, who has only recently arrived in Africa. But having appealed to the native police and many others, I am informed that you are the only man in the world who can help me in the present situation, which involves the safety and perhaps the very life of my daughter, Carol. Please come at once to Mombasa. I am at the Grand Hotel and I await your arrival. A melodramatic letter that Hutchins has dictated in the hope that I'd be brought... Oh, Tarzan, that's Mrs. Wells, Carol's mother, my Carol, and she's in danger. I doubt that she's in danger, Bob. But since the letter refers to your Carol, I shall go to Mombasa. I'm going with you. No, you couldn't drag yourself as far as the window a moment ago. How do you propose to travel to Mombasa? I'll make it. I have to. I'll make a bargain with you, Bob. You remain here. There are enough provisions to keep you until my return. But Tarzan, can't you understand... I said I'd make a bargain with you. You remain here without further foolish arguments, and when I return, I shall bring your Carol with me. What will they do? Nothing. The officials blame you for having accepted the jewel. They act as though the parsha was well within his rights in abducting Carol. Frankly, I don't know what to do. Perhaps if your lord, Gray Stoke... Yes, maybe perhaps Tarzan can help. If only the letter brings him. The letter did bring me, Mr. Hutchins. Tarzan, the way you pounce out of nowhere, really? I hardly pounced. I've been standing here for several minutes. I wished to learn if the letter was a ruse. Apparently it was mainly false when it was written, but it has come true. Carol is in danger. Will you help us, Tarzan? You are from this naked savage! This is Lord Gray Stoke, Mrs. Wells. Mrs. Wells, despite your rudeness, I shall help you. Come with me, both of you. Where are you taking us? The caravan of the parsha moves slowly because of its great size and because of the many women in the entourage. We can easily overtake it within a few hours. But how? I shall engage the services of three fleet camels. You will know by the time our journey is over. All retired women like you, Mrs. Wells, lower your voice please. Well, I never... It wouldn't be well for them to hear us, Mrs. Wells. Now then, Tarzan, your plan of campaign. It will require exact timing and bravery. Mrs. Wells, you will walk from the brush first and you will go directly to the large bayot at the center of the camp. Now do not say a word to the sentries. Show them the signet jewel and continue to walk until you are face to face with the parsha. But if someone does, stop me. We shall have to gamble that the jewel will serve as an open sesame. I am counting on you to create considerable consternation in the center of the camp. Oh, Mr. Hutchins? Yes, sir. As soon as you see Mrs. Wells hand the jewel to the parsha or disappear into the bayot, you will proceed to the makeshift corral at the far end of the encampment, where their animals are tethered. Yes. You will fire your gun into the air until the magazine is empty. By that time, the animals should take care of the confusion at that end of the camp and then get back to our tethered animals here if you can. And if I cannot, I shall have given my life in the service of a fine mother and a gracious lady. Thank you, Mr. Hutchins. When I hear the animals stampeding, I shall take care of the far end of the caravan, for surely Carol must be held in the parsha's harem, which is quartered there. And if the plan fails? We shall all pay with our lives. The sight of a middle-aged woman calmly walking up to the bayot of the parsha threw the potentate sentries into a complete quandary. Suddenly the sound of shots and a mad stampede of the caravan's camels drew their attention elsewhere. Before they had subdued the animals, right on the harem, confusion still further. Orders were shouted madly. But the parsha's followers milled about in hopeless confusion. And in the center, touching his scimitar in hopeless futility, stood the parsha kamar Benzeta Bay. He watched three camels disappearing into the brush. They carried a bronze giant, a city guard white man, the parsha's white pearl, the pearl's now disheveled mother. Little jungle, you haven't led us back to Mombasa? I must have taken a wrong turn. Mother, there's no sense in being upset. This man did save us. For a worse fate, I dare say. Oh, you do something. What can I do, my dear? In England, he is a lord. Not that I have any hopes of taking him back now, but here he's undisputed monarch. Well, if he and the parsha are examples of nobility, I've been wrong all along. Carol, I apologize. If Bob were here, I'd literally push you into his arms. That sounds like the proper cue for me to open the door to my cabin. They won the world's... Bob, I'm so glad to see you. You, aren't they perfect together? Yes, they are. Bob, how'd you get here? What's happened? Oh, a great deal, since I chucked my job in fallage in Africa. The most exciting part was when Tarzan saved my life with a bow and arrow. And it was a fairly good shot. But I had no idea that in using that noble weapon, I was taking the place of Dan Cupid. In just a moment, a preview of our next story of Tarzan. The peace of the world depended on getting the supplies across the great African jungle. It was imperative that they be carried from Dakar to Suez without loss. And yet, each time a new shipment was received at Suez, it was found that guns, ammunition, food supplies, and other valuable equipment were missing. Drama runs high in our next story, jungle hijackers. 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.