Jungle Odds

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 son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of jungle odds. New York City is a long way from Equatorial Africa, and the maze of Manhattan's teeming streets are far different from the tangled growth of Tarzan's jungle, but in some ways they are closely akin, for in the city too man pits his strength and his wits against the

odds of life. For a good many years Jerry Mulqueen had concentrated his wits and the odds to be encountered at the racetracks and the gambling casinos of the world and of late his luck had been all bad. Gambling czar Vic Morati knew about Mulqueen's financial state, it was his business to know such things.

Away I get it, you're broke. And you've already borrowed from every easy touch and time. Yes, I borrowed a few bucks, but my luck's bound to change. How many losers can I pick and rule?

According to the law of average, I've got to pick a winner this time. The odds against my pick and another loser. Oh, and your odds. Well, not look, Barati. After all the money I've spent with you, I credit ought to be good for one last bit.

Just one little bit. That's all I'm asking credit for, just one chance to get even. What happens if you lose again? Oh, you'll collect. I swear it. I've got money at home. It's just... Well, I can't get my hands on it unless I'm really desperate.