Congo Magic

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 Burrows, Tarzan, the bronzed white son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burrows, the story of Congo magic. The city of Port Zarota, deep in the Congo, is neither a port nor a city, but such are the strange contradictions of the jungle.

The huddle settlement stands at the delta of a river that has long since dried up, and the pygmies and the stalkmen who live but a few days march from Port Zarota refer to it as the city.

Actually, it is nothing more than a miserable collection of thatch native huts, sun-whitened government buildings, shabby barracks, and crumbled dwellings. And yet the native authority court convenes there, and it was to this court that Tarzan had come three days before.

Well, Captain Lawrence, I'm certainly glad that my duties and court are over. Yes, Tarzan. Court appearances are always tedious. But don't Chris Morgan never would have been convicted without your testimony? Convicted? That's a horrible word.

Oh, he headed coming to him all right? Yes, of course, but to be confined within the walls of a prison. Even the confines of a city like this one are intolerable to me. Yes, I know.

I know you'll be awfully your jungler in the morning, I suppose. Tonight, if you don't mind, I'll pick up my few belongings at your quarters, Captain Lawrence, and then I'll head for the coast. Well, you'll be making an awful liar of me.