Jungle Smoke

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 bronze, the white son of the jungle. And now on the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of Jungle Smoke. There was no more than the usual commotion in the jungle as Tarzan rode easily in the back of Tantor the elephant.

But a thousand miles from this tranquil scene, a man worked swiftly, cautiously, not realizing that his actions would soon bring him face-to-face with the Lord of the Jungle. The man was Harry Douglas, whose clever hands were busy packing a parachute.

He smiled to himself as he folded the white silk because he knew this parachute would never open. The smile vanished as the door to the hangar where he worked slid back. What are you doing in that hangar at this hour of night?

Oh, oh, Eli. Going back to bed, I'm just getting ready for tomorrow. You might have told me instead of letting me worry where you were, I thought maybe the police had got it. The police don't know anything.

By the time they do, nobody's going to know where we are. I hope you're right. No, but it won't be necessary to actually use these parachutes. Don't you worry, Ly? This is my part of the show.

You got hold of the diamonds? It's my job to get them out of Africa. And the sooner the better. I'm getting nervous, Harry. Just relax. I know what I'm doing. I hope so. Well, if we're gonna take off in the morning, you better get some sleep.