039- John Jock Todd

Escape! You are groping in the dark of the African jungle knight, trapped on a wharf above a crocodile infested river, fighting for your life against a ruthless giant, from whom you must escape. Escape! Designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure.

Tonight we escape to the dank jungles of the Seguang of Allah in Africa, And to the heart of the courageous man, as Robert Simpson told it in his story, John Jock Todd. No doubt you may presume my scott answer sway from a wee bit of the old speech that still links to my voice.

Though it's been some years now since I last walked in the heather of the heel and the abrogary, my name is John Todd, the same as my father's, though to be sure he's more often called Jock Todd.

Jock being the fighter's equivalent to John and a name which a no wise applies to me. I am a peace-loving man, not a fighter, and no man can deny it, even today. However, in other respects, I was a raw lad for certain when I sailed up from Glasgow and came here to this heat in Land of Africa, and that's a thing which can be said of me at present.

If a man lives at all in this steaming hot jungle, at the Niger River, Then he must learn very quickly. And most is specially so, if he lands at that dirty little trade-in post. And Seguanga Creek.

Up Seguanga? London, come and up? Here. Here you are, Mr. Durt. Seguanga landing, and you can have it as far as I'm concerned. Well, I might say the parlor company had somewhat more elaborate offices in Glasgow, Mr. Simpson.