 From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. Yes, it's Tarzan brought to you by CBS Radio, where America listens most. But before we begin tonight's story, remember that danger can lurk in your home. Keep danger away by keeping medicines and sharp implements away from the reach of children and by keeping rugs anchored so grown-ups won't slip. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery and violence comes to one of the most colorful figures of all times. 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 two in the bush. For many days, Tarzan had been following a wretchedly ill congo buffalo hoping to aid the trembling beast. But each time he drew close, it shied away, staggered on, plunging ever-northward toward the dense bush country beyond remote Gerechadi. Suddenly the pitifully suffering creature lurched into a wide clearing. And Tarzan was amazed to behold a collection of small buildings, dozens of animal-filled cages and an immense aviary containing hundreds of captive birds. As the now hemorrhaging buffalo tottered toward the largest of the buildings, a man emerged, elderly but unbent and possessed of the most powerful-looking hands Tarzan had ever seen. Go away, you. Humans are not welcome here. I may prove even less welcome before I leave, but the sight of caged animals and burges arouse my curiosity and my anger. Oh, keep quiet. Can't you see this animal needs all my attention? Here, help me hold him down while I give him a shot from this syringe. You? You had the syringe in your hand when you came out of the building. Of course I did. I've been expecting this fellow for days. Now then, that's it. Well, cut it out, you unrecreated. That little needle didn't hurt you. Now, get into this cage here. Go on. What disease is the creature suffer from? Antrex, almost always fatal. Lucky I had the serum handy and that patient arrived before the final convulsive deliriums began. How did you happen to expect his arrival? Congo buffalo seldom one to this far north. His mate arrived a week ago when she first contracted antrex. And I was positive he'd follow. Even if he didn't catch the disease, Congo buffaloes are always very loyal to their mates. Too bad humans ain't more like animals. I share your feelings on that score. I cannot imagine an animal confining people within cages. You obviously saved the life of that buffalo and yet I'm at a loss to know why if you intend to hold him captive. Sometimes it's necessary to put bars on a hospital window to restrain the patient until he's cured. That doesn't make a penitentiary out of the hospital. I haven't any more time to waste, jungle man, but you can continue your cross examination while I make a round of my other patients if you like. All of the animals and birds here are your patients, doctor? I'm not a doctor. My name's Neil Mortensen. You may call me by my first or my last name, but do not call me a doctor. All right, well, Mr. Mortensen. Oh, more birds in here. This is an isolation ward for members of the Parrot family who have been stricken with citicosis. Parrot fever? Well, there's a law saying that birds infected with citicosis must be destroyed. I'm quite aware of that, but I refuse to destroy any of my birds up east. I came to this remote sanctuary in the mountains to escape man-made laws, and I shall never permit those laws to follow me here. Aque around the world, two other men were in a room full of tropical birds. Only this room was in a warehouse of an American metropolis. The birds were in crude wooden crates, and the men sprawled in huge leather chairs that occupied an aisle between two of the endless banks of pile crates. A radio rested on an overturned box between the men. Hey, stop fussing with that radio crate. I want to hear the racer's voice. Beyond in a couple of minutes, Ross. And not Ross. Ross in yours. Ross in yours. It is strange for the nightingale. Yeah, you already told me that a thousand times, but it's hard to say. You got to have a bird's name. Why don't you call yourself Sparrow? Suit yourself better. And why did you not take the name of Gorilla when you changed your name? Don't get so smart. If he stopped me without any wife crap, say, one I should start getting myself ready for the truck at night, and I've already told you to get into the road, but no further. Not out on to the loading platform and the loading platform, and throughout the U.S. Government Health Department agents today began a careful inspection of all pet shops and wholesale assets of tropical birds as an epidemic of citicosis, or parrot fever, began making serious inroads into the nation's health. At first, believed to be a wave of typhoid fever, the disease was correctly identified late yesterday, and Health Department officials claimed that by... Hey, who was the idea turning the law? I didn't hear the racial. That's what's wrong with them birds you had me put in the back room. All right, so that's what's wrong with them. Now, listen to me, Craig. Get this through your head. It is against the law to import parrots, parrots eats cockatoos, or any of the other birds we handle here. But even as it is, we cannot supply our customers. Our contact in Africa has proven very unreliable lately, and we may even have to go there ourselves if we can't fill our orders. But you must tell no one. You understand? Yeah, sure, I'm no dummy. Hey, sounds like Sammy spotted somebody suspicious coming in. Craig, quick. Take those birds in the back room down to the furnace room. Destroy them quickly, and leave Pierre Rossignol to cope with the government, Health Department agents, or whoever the suspicious looking one is. I have met the law before, and I have always managed to survive. Is that door leading Mr. Rossignol? Oh, that door? It leads only to the furnace room, Mr. Cairndon. Surely the health department does not require of its agents that they inspect heating systems. I think I'll have a look just in case. Well, we were just about to join you in the furnace room, my friend. Mr. Craig, this is Mr. Cairndon of the government health department. Yeah, glad to meet you. Everything is all right with the fire, Mr. Craig? Huh? Oh, sure, sure. Burnin' like a million bucks. It might be interesting to see how a million dollars burned. If it is your pleasure to inspect the boiler, you are, of course, most welcome. I will... No, never mind. If there were anything suspicious down there, you wouldn't be so obliging. As you wish, Mr. Cairndon. There's something mighty fishy about your operation, Rossignol. I admit I haven't been able to find anything here, but I'm gonna keep my eye on you. The cremation of the obviously infected birds had crystallized Rossignol's determination to go in quest of a tremendous supply of new ones himself, and he'd already decided upon the coast of French West Africa as the jumping-off place for his hunting expedition. By midnight, he had made arrangements to charter a private vessel, one with a hold large enough to accommodate thousands of birds. On the other side of the globe, it was mid-morning. Tarzan had just completed accompanying Niels Mortensen on his customary morning round of patience. The buffaloes look fully recovered to me. They won't be back to normal for weeks, but I'll know it when the time comes. You saw that buff-colored bird in the cage with him? The buffalo bird? Yes, I noticed him over in the corner, searching the ground for a stray insect. And yet it prefers to feed on ticks, which he finds on the backs of buffaloes. Yes, I've often seen them doing that, much as the crocodile bird picks parasites from between the teeth of crocodiles. Exactly. And they seem to have an uncanny ability to avoid contaminated animals. When the buffalo bird returns to its mission in life, I'll set the buffaloes free. You see, my small feathered friend is, well, really not a patient here. He's a sort of laboratory assistant. You haven't shown me a laboratory yet. I was just about to. That's why I was heading this way. Here we are. This is an amazing place, Mr. Mortensen. A fully-equipped laboratory hidden in a jungle mountain. Good many doctors would be proud of such a workshop. All right, so I was a doctor once, struggling for years to win the confidence of people who judge me by my brust manner and my huge ungainly hands instead of my brain. By the time they finally came to me, I wanted none of them. You've decided to devote your skill to animals. In preference to people, yes. They didn't mind my lack of bedside manner and my large hands were an asset. But I found that people weren't interested in the health of their pets. They wanted horses who could run faster, parrots who could talk more, dogs who could win blue ribbons to be framed and hung on the wall. Mr. Mortensen, on your wall, that feather. Oh, yes, yes. I found it when I first came to the mountains, high up near the summit. But that must be six feet long. It's almost impossible to imagine the size of the bird it came from. Yes, I thought it was interesting. That's why I brought it back. It recalled the off-pole stories about the giant rock. Rock? I've never seen a bird of that name in the jungle. Nor has anyone else ever seen one anywhere. But men have woven legends about them for centuries. Marco Polo spoke of a rock. The Arabian knights made mention of them. And one was supposed to have swooped down and carried off Sinbad the Sailor in its huge talons. It seems incredible that a bird could pick up a man, but that feather... The legends claimed that rocks often made off with elephants to feed their young. Surprising that as a man of science you didn't try to track down this amazing bird once you'd found its feather. Well, if I found one, people might learn of it. Ambitious men would vie to be the first to take a rock back to civilization. And greedy hordes would trample down what I've built up here. No, thank you, Tarzan. Your hatred of mankind is not natural, Mr. Mortensen, but it is understandable. If your sanctuary is threatened with invasion while I'm here, you shall have my unqualified help. Into the jungle. Why don't we hunt for ivory or gold or diamonds like they tell about in all of them stories? I have an even more interesting story, my friend. It concerns two men who return to America with a shipload of gray African parrots. Other citizens with great commercial value blooms from the beauties, regret, and rare species of birds that will be worth a fortune. I told you all them long words and all this talk about birds is getting me sick. Eh, perhaps you'd best complete the packing of the net so you can carry them easily. With my muscles I could lug a blacksmith's anvil through the jungle. But I can't figure these nets. A mile wide and made with twine stronger and steel. What are you planning on capturing? Flying elephants? My contact in the mountain country north where we will land will undoubtedly be most helpful to us. But there are stupid ones who hold the ridiculous laws protecting birds as something sacred. If they attempt to halt my efforts, we may need our nets to ensnare some very strange birds. As the weeks pass, Tarzan remained with the enigmatic Niels Mortensen and the suspicions with which the jungle lord had viewed his hosts rapidly dispelled as he watched the man's powerful hands subdue a feverish panther one moment and delicately pluck a thorn from the sensitive mouth for the tiny flying squirrels the next. With an incredible instinct known only to the denizens of the wildwood, sick and wounded animals made their way from almost every portion of the Congo to the uncharted sanctuary in the mountain. But there's still one thing I don't understand, Mr. Mortensen. The animals when they recover, but you never open the cages of the birds. No. Not as long as lovebirds and cockatoos and the like are fashionable in civilization. You see, those born in captivity command much smaller prices than those taken wild. And recently, some were even stolen from the isolation ward here to be shipped to distant forts. By whom? By a young man I was training to be the world's finest veterinarian, an assistant I had here by the name of Clark. You discharged him? He, uh, he disappeared. I don't know where he went. Well, certainly you must have some idea where he went. Well, back to work. Now, here's an ambulance case. An aggressive, badly injured? Yes, this is the season of the year when they grow long black plumes called aggressive. More popularly known as ospreys by milliners and dressmakers. You think someone deliberately injured this bird in an attempt to secure his plumage? I'm positive of it. Well, come on. We better see if there's anything we can do for this one. Mortensen, eh, he couldn't have flown far in this condition. The fiends are wounded. They must be comparatively near. Perhaps we could find them. I'm staying right here to look after my sick children, Tarzan. To find anyone in this dense-bushed country is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Uh, Tarzan, I may need your help. Where are you going? A search of a needle. It'll be a wonder if the porter's minds are gonna get all them crates into the holes. Yes, we did well even without Clark. But I would like just a few more. Climb a little higher. Spread the net more crates. That is right. Just a few more parrots now. Before they catch something from one of them, see he look at one. The vaccine will protect us both. We have nothing to fear. Why did you don't count me or my gun? What? Kernden, U.S. Health Department, remember? Yes, but... But you couldn't have come here after me. I have Department Agent A. It isn't considerable. Tell that train chimp of yours to climb down from that tree and let's get headed back towards civilization. I never argue with a man who has a gun in his hand. Please! Come down. But first, drop the net. We are heading back. Stay! What are you doing? Perfect aim, please. Get this net off me, you fools. You may be able to get away with killing birds. How did I do, boy? Perfect, please. Look, you guys. I left word where I was going. If anything happens to me... You did not have to hit me, my friend. You'll never escape from that net. My brother starts gathering up the things. Yes. If we shall sacrifice this net and move on to another location. Craig, where did you get that? This big feather? Yes. Back in a rocky coast just north of him? Eric, when? Yesterday. When he was busy paying off the porters. It's your big, but why all the fuss? Look at it. The width of the column was the length of the main shaft. Craig, if we can find the bird that came from, we can be rich, rich and famous. The most famous ornithological discoverers of the age. Mr. Kernan, try to recall what they said before they left you here. Something about a feather they had. The height of the tree over there must have been part of my delirium. I, too, have seen such a feather. If only I could be sure that I'd jored them in the right direction. But when they left here north, they said they were going north. Toward the summit where Mortensen found his feather. Mr. Kernan, I'm taking you someplace where you can receive treatment, then I shall go after Craig and Rossi and y'all. No, Tarzan, I travel thousands of miles in a mere hunch. I won't be cheated out of going after him now. Not if I have to crawl to the top of this mountain. I'm getting dizzy way up here. Why don't we climb down from these rocks? We got one of them, ain't we? Keep climbing, Craig. This one may not live. It is only a baby who fell from the nest. Some baby? It must weigh over a hundred pounds. Well, put it down here, Craig. It is injured. I mean, that nest among the bushes ahead there must be other young ones. Perhaps a clutch of eggs about to hatch. You ain't looked down. Nothing but sharp cracks as far as the eye can see. They're almost there. That's the nest ahead. Yeah. Look, like a magpies nest. Only a hundred times as big. Two young ones. You'll see for yourself, Craig. Could you say anyone underneath, Tom? Perhaps I could help you in... Ah! Walking off! Look! Big one! The size of everything coming out of it. It's an ant! Like a swarm of our miles of... The pictures out of some insane nightmare have come on the wings of fury. Now, as they spring to the defense of the young, they claw to the pet and scream. Then, grasping the two men in their mighty talons, they anchor them savagely from the precarious rope, toward high over the nice white crag, their enemies dangling like evil puppets. And then, so by some vengeful signal, they drop them into the yawning cazzo under the piercing rocks. Then they return to the young, unmindful of the two humans who would witness their revenge. Tarzan placed a supporting arm under Cernden's shoulder, and half carried him back along the trail toward the medical health he needed so desperately. I think your patient is going to recover. I hope so. A man like Cernden restores one's faith in people. You're a resistant... the one who was the last blow to your faith in man. He must have encountered the same fate as Craig in Rossignol. There was a skeleton at the base of the cliff. Yes, yes. I found it first. That's where I got the feather. He also hoped for more profit and fame. Rossignol might have achieved it, for I couldn't have deserted Cernden to follow him, and had he left after securing the first young bird, perhaps he might have awarded its parents in the dense jungle. It was his decision to get the two in the nest that cost Craig and him their lives. The old saying, Tarzan, a bird in the hand. CBS radio's present cycle of these exciting adventure programs. Now stay tuned for the news, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS radio stations. Your announcer, Bob Muller.