 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 a cross a continent. For many years, Africa has been a haven for the lost souls of Europe. Criminals and political refugees, misfits, outcasts and social pariahs, all of them have poured into the dark continent. From Lisbon they sail to Casablanca. From Marseille they cross to Algiers. From Sicily they flee to Tunis, or perhaps Tripoli. And from a dozen seething cauldrons of Europe, they filter into the obscure port of Bekorata. A soiled, disreputable city that's sweltered in the equatorial sun, it seemed a strange place indeed to find Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. Pardon me. I wonder if you could direct me to the office of Eric von Horn. Office? Why do you laugh? Mr. von Horn is the government agricultural adviser to the natives, is he not? Oh, yes, he draws a salary for that too. Well, then tell me where his office is if you can. You're standing right in front of it. This? This? His office? But it's a café. Yes, it's a café and Mr. von Horn owns it. He dispenses information on agriculture, cheap liquor at expensive prices and anything else he can make a profit on. I see. This picture in front, the girl, surely she can have no connection with a place like this. Oh, yes, she caught your eye, did she? Well, can't say I blame you. She's the best looking man trapped von Horn's ever had singing here. Not that she'll last long, never do. She should not remain long in such a place. Don't let those innocent eyes fool you. She knows a score, all right. If she didn't, she wouldn't be in Beccarata. Believe me, stranger, Madame Ozil Gabrielle is bad medicine. Her eyes look sad. Well, I didn't travel to Beccarata to discuss café singers. I have business with Mr. von Horn. Thank you for directing me to them. Oh, watch your step when you go inside. They keep the lights low and their eyes are used to it. They're apt to pull a knife on you. They don't like your looks. I have a friend, a small native boy named Togo, who claims that I resemble a monkey very closely. But I think he refers to my ability to climb trees rather than to my appearance. I'll take a chance that those inside will like my looks. Thanks again. What'll it be? No, I don't care for a drink. I would like to see Mr. von Horn. Oh, you walk into a café, bold as brass, and you don't want a drink, huh? I told you I came to see Mr. von Horn. Is he in? He ain't into a naked savage from the jungle. I wear the same clothes as do the natives whom Mr. von Horn has paid to advise. I demand to see him. Look, stranger, you may be big, but around these parts... I don't speak to him a lot. I am von Horn. What do you want? I have come here from the Punya country to get advice on agriculture. Their café corn grows poorly. Each season, the yield grows smaller. Why should you care? The Punyas are my friends. I traveled many moons to see you. I do not intend to return without some instruction from you. Well, you'd like some instruction, eh? All right, I'll give you some. Come back to my table with me. Hallad, bring us some of my special stock. Oh, thank you, but I'll take the information without the drink. I'm unused to the white man's liquor. If you want to talk with me, you will drink with me. In civilization, it is considered rude to refuse to drink with a gentleman. I did not mean to offend you. If it is bad manners, I shall break my rule and drink with you while you tell me about raising café corn. Good. I'm afraid you misunderstood me. I said I'd give you some instruction. I did not refer to instructions for the growing of corn. But what else could you instruct me in? In letting you in on your own. Look, what did you say your name was? My name is Tarzan. Look, Tarzan, I come to this country as a young man. I took my work seriously. I went into the bush, tried to teach these lazy natives about soil erosion, crop rotation, increase of yield to cross-fertilization. But did it do any good? No. When they had ruined the soil in one section, they moved to another. You sound as though you know a great deal on the subject. I do. But I am still with that fangless job. There's more profit and less work in other fields of endeavor. Like running this café? Among other things. That girl there, the one who just walked in the door. She's the one whose picture is out front. What about her? Oh, nothing. I was just admiring her. She's very beautiful. Halak, where are those things? I was just bringing them. Here you are, boss. Where are health, Tarzan? Well, you said you were going to drink with me. Oh, yes, yes. Well, here's to your health, Mr. Von Hain. Now, what made you ask about that girl? Oh, it was just a natural inquiry. Her picture out front, and then seeing her come in and disappear in the back. She went to her dressing room. She is an entertainer here. It is not wise to ask questions about people in Baccarata. Then I will ask you more questions, save those about Cafia Corn. I know something about, about crop rotation, about crop. Sure, it took long enough to get them, didn't it? There was nothing in his drink to knock out an elephant. Take him down in the basement, lock him up. Why not take him with a jail? Tell him he wouldn't pay his bill after he got drunk or something. He will avoid contact with the officials until after we've taken care of the girl. He's abhorred, and he started asking questions about her. Soon there will be others asking questions. You think he knows something? He certainly didn't come here to get information on agriculture. He didn't fool me for a minute. Somebody should have told him it ain't healthy to ask questions around here. By this time it is apparent. And his health is apt to get worse and worse down in our cozy little basement. We shall return in just a moment to the exciting story of Tarzan. Night comes quickly in equatorial countries. And as the darkness descended on Baccarata, the city came to life. And those whose livelihood depended on stealth and secrecy left their daytime haunts. In the café of Eric Van Horn, intrigue flourished. But in the dank basement of his establishment, all was quiet, save for Tarzan's heavy drug-laden breathing. Wake up. Wake up, jungle man. You... you haven't much time. When they close the café, they'll attend to you. They won't stop at a few knockout drops. You... you are the stranger. I met outside the café this afternoon. That's right. But you must have had a key to get him. Perhaps you are one of them. Don't worry. I have keys that'll open any door. But I'm not in league with Van Horn. I hate him. Henry will join forces and have revenge. Let's say that I've had mine by freeing you. And I'd suggest you have yours by escaping and returning to your jungle. Now you better get going. Give me a minute to clear out and then leave by that door over there. Better keep to the side streets when you slip out of town. Tarzan crept up the rotted wooden steps from the basement to an alley. But he could not bring himself to sneak from the city like a criminal. Instead, he slid along the outside wall of the café. Through a window, he could see the girl whose picture he had noticed that afternoon. Glamorous and exciting in a dark dress of lace, she stood by the orchestra. And at a table near the window where Tarzan peered in, Van Horn and a huge man with a small moustache and a goatee stared at the girl intently. As she stepped to the center of the floor, she noticed them for the first time and her eyes bespoke terror, contradicting the casual sensuousness of her song. She'll go back to Mademoiselle Gabrielle's dressing room, huh? She is not going anywhere to play. I have a man on the front door and one on the back. She won't get away. Then what are we waiting for? You haven't paid me yet. I shall give you what you have coming when I have my hands on the girl. I've waited too long and taken too many chances to risk her slip up now. There won't be any slip up. Finish your pen all and then we'll go and tend to the girl. For the conversation, Van Horn and another plot against you. Your life is in danger. So Van Horn did lead them here. I don't know who you are, but you've got to help me escape. I shall help. The man Van Horn posted the rear door is helpless now, I saw to that. We can leave that way, but you must hurry. I've got to get a few things. Here, here, hold this bag. Yes. Thank you. I'm not used to running away, but Van Horn has many accomplices here and if I were killed, you would still be in danger. Oh, you don't have to apologize for not fighting. All you have to do is get me out of this jam. There, that's as much as I'll need. Let's go. Yes, I fainted. When that last bullet whistled by us, I didn't feel too brave myself. Where are we? I can see leaves all about me, but I... Nature has provided this small platform of boughs in the top of a great tree. Top of a tree? Oh, get me down from here. Oh, no, we're safe up here. But, but I can't stand heights I never could. Your enemies hunt for you below. Why do those men seek you? You, you don't know and yet you came to my rescue. You needed help. You're a funny guy. Who are you? Schmappel Tarzan. Dressed like a savage and at home in the trees and he speaks French. I don't understand French except for a few songs I learned. But I take it your name is Tarzan. Yes. My name's Gabrielle. But you said you were not French. Oh, it's a stage name. You can call me Gabby. You, you did not tell me why the men wish to harm you. Well, it's a long story. You see, I'm an American, but I was stuck in Warsaw during the last war. I'd been working in a nightclub there. The Nazis admired me and I was not arrested. So I was free to secure information for the Allies. Naturally, I made many enemies. And they still pursue you now. They'll never let me go. They followed me here. I changed my name and learned that French act. I thought I'd be safe, but somehow von Horn learned of my past. He made certain demands on me. And when I refused him, he put my picture out front as a threat. And others beside Tarzan saw the picture. Did you see the large man? The one with the mustache and goatee? Yes. He was the head of the Gestapo in Warsaw. We shall return to Bekorata and report him to the authorities. Oh, no, no, Tarzan. Please, we can't do that. Why not? You know what they are in Bekorata. Government officials would promise to investigate. They might even put him in custody in his hotel room. Do you think that would stop von Horn and him from killing me? It is all confusing. Certainly, we must turn to the government for help. And yet von Horn is an official of the Agricultural Bureau. And he refused me help. If you could just guide me to Lewanda, I would be safe. I have friends there. Well, that's in Angola. It's all the way across the continent. And look, there. They're still pursuing us. You are strong and brave and wonderful. Surely you will not refuse to help me. I keep remembering the beauty of your song and the terror in your eyes. It makes refusal difficult. My eyes can look softly, too. And with you, I would know no terror. I shall guide you to Angola. But your days of terror are only beginning. We must cross the most dangerous jungle of all Africa. We will have to ford rivers and brave man-eating animals and overcome the greatest of obstacles. And unless my appraisal of your enemies is very wrong, we will be pursued every inch of the way. We'll return to our story of Tarzan in just a moment. All that night, Tarzan traveled through the upper level of jungle growth, carrying the frightened girl in his arms. Below them, Sheetah, the panther, sounded his mournful cry. In the distance, it was answered by the scream of dango, the hyena. And the screeching of Manu, the monkey. Each time, a new threat sounded. The girl's soft arms clutched Tarzan more fiercely. But as morning broke, her fears abated somewhat. Could... Could we go down to the ground now? All right. I think we've lost our friends, at least for the moment. I don't know how I stood it. If I ever get my feet on the ground, I'll never leave it again. There you are. Terror firmer. Oh, honestly. Now, Latin and French and English. I can't figure you. Oh, my story's even longer than yours. I'll try to make it brief. My parents were English. They were murdered on the African coast. And later they were killed by savage apes. But I was rescued by a mother ape who had lost her own child. She raised me and I learned to hunt and fight and leap from tree to tree as did the ape tribe. My small friend, Togo, a native boy, claims I am a monkey. Not in your appearance or speech. Ah, yes, the speech. Well, I spoke only the language of the apes until I was 20 and then other white people were marooned near the cabin where my parents died. A Frenchman taught me the language of man for the first time and then later I traveled extensively and I learned many languages and the ways of many people. But always I returned to Africa. Well, I'm glad you were in Africa last night. Oh, Tarzan, in the trees, savages. Natives, they've been following us for the last hour. They're a friendly tribe, but this is their land and they observe us to find out our intentions. Jumbo. They do not want to make talk, I guess. What hideous looking painted faces. Perhaps they do not approve of the way in which civilized women paint their faces. They will not bother us, but they will watch us closely until we've passed into the country of another people. I'm frightened. And there's a great distance to the Portuguese Angola. I will gather some fruit and then we will resume our journey. I won't go up in those trees again. How will you travel? I walk. In those shoes? What about my shoes? Well, they're not meant for a trek across the jungle, even though they are sturdier than some I have seen on women's feet. What what do they call that manner of footwear? They're called wedgies and I'm not giving them up. All right. Only we do have a start on funhorn and the others. If you are to walk in those wedgies, they might catch up. Oh, no, no, they mustn't. Perhaps I could kill a small animal and make a pair of moccasins for you. You could put those wedgies in the little bag you carry if you're so fine to them. All right, fine. Tarzan, where are you going? To find your future shoes. Oh, no, no, Tarzan, please. Please don't leave me alone. But Tarzan had already caught the scent of wappy the antelope and with his knife fun sheen, he glided through the forest. In a matter of minutes, he had killed the small animal, stripped it of its soft hide and cut off enough of its meat to supply a good meal. And then suddenly he sensed that the girl was in great trouble. He wheeled and ran back like Bara the deer. But already the deadly python, which had hung motionlessly from a tree, had begun to wind its great coils about Gabby's slender body. Tarzan sprang from the brush and his knife found its mark in the brain of the writhing reptile. It's all right. You're all right, Gabby. He saw the snake is dead. Tarzan, Tarzan. Almost worn out, Tarzan. They served well, considering I had no time to cure the skin properly. How far must we travel yet? It seems as though we've been beating our way through this jungle forever. Well, let us stop and rest for a moment, Gabby. Ah, yes, let's rest. Gabby, we've been walking for weeks now and there are still many weeks traveled before us. Each day the enemy comes closer. Let me carry you through the upper level so that we can increase our speed. No, Tarzan. Even if I could overcome my fear of the heights, I couldn't stand the jostling. I think my... my ribs still haven't healed. You were lucky the python didn't do more than crack a few ribs. How was your a brave girl, Gabby? Not so brave. I can't sleep at night for fear of Von Horn and the leader of the Gestapo. I plead with you for the last time. Let... let me build a Boma for you. A tall one, well spiked. You'll be safe within it and then I can turn back and fight your enemies. Oh, no. Tarzan, don't leave me in the name of heaven. Don't leave me. All right, Gabby, all right. Come on, now, cheer up. Sing the song I heard you sing that first night. Zatandre... I... I can't... Oh, Gabby, Gabby, I... I won't let anything harm you... ever again. You have to run faster, Gabby. They're gaining on us. I can't run any faster. They're surrounding us. Our only hope is that cave ahead. But we don't know what's in the cave. We know what's outside. Come on, Gabby. I can't... I'll pick you up. We'll make that cave yet, Gabby. That water? It's an underground river. If we were worried empties into the sea, we'd be safe. We're close to Angola? Must be just over the ridge. Less than a mile from this cave. Quiet, Gabby, quiet, quiet. We might fool them yet. Take my hand, Gabby. Where are we going? We must find the river. Here's the underground river, Gabby. Are you game? For what? Our only hope is to take a deep breath and then try to swim under water. We'll have to wander until the river flows into the open. But how far is that? I don't know, Gabby. This is your last chance. I'm not a very good swimmer, Tarzan. I'll help you. Why are you changing your shoes at a time like this? My wedgies are lighter. All right, then. Take a deep breath now. It may be your last. Ahead, the sunshine. All right, Mr. Tarzan. Mademoiselle Gabrielle, climb out of the water. Never. We'll... I beg of you. Do not make me shoot. In the name of the Surte, I implore you to surrender. Hey, the police are France. No, Tarzan, don't let them arrest me. I'll help you up, Gabby. Well, a little scheme work, Captain Duffer. No, I... The reward money would be yours, my norm. Now step aside. This is official business. Carson, would you like to take care of our charming young prisoner, you? I'll take care of her, all right. A little pair of bracelets for you, Mademoiselle. Handcuffs. And after all I've been through. The stranger who released me from Fanon's basement? I'll relieve you of that bag, Gabby. Someone tell me what this is all about. The lady you've been escorting for the jungle, Tarzan, has many aliases and many stories. Sometimes she's a European princess in exile, sometimes a member of the underground, fleeing from the Nazis who still pursue her, even now. Sometimes what... She has a dozen stories and names to match. But who is she, really? One of the cleverest jewel smugglers in history. Gabby? She's wanted in a dozen countries. I represent the Surte. Monsieur Carson here represents the FBI of the United States. And Von Horn? Paid informer. It's unfortunate that we have to resort to them, but in cities like Becurata there's no other way. But Von Horn drugged me and the man you call Carson released me. That just doesn't make sense. Makes very good sense. Fanon was afraid you knew the girl and intended to ruin his game. Carson released you so that you could save her. You see, we did not know where she carried her present shipment of gems. But we did know that if she made a break for it, with your help, she'd take them along. Is this true, Gabby? Yes, Tarzan, I'm sorry. Did you find anything, Tarzan? Yeah, just about a million dollars' worth of uncut diamonds. In the bottom of her wedgies. It all adds up. We do not intend to press charges against you, Tarzan. You were an innocent tool. Believe me, you are not the first man this woman has made a monkey out of. A monkey? Maybe Togo was right all along. In just a moment, a preview of our next thrilling story of Tarzan. The killer, as he was known in boxing circles, stood well over seven feet in height and weighed more than 300 pounds. His red-rimmed eyes and savage mane indicated that he had come honestly by his ring name. But there are no electric arc lights, no rules and no referee when he meets Tarzan in the jungle. It's a fight to the death in our next story. Tarzan and the killer. 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 Lesser. This is a Commodore production.