Omen of the Emerald

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 the omen of the emerald. Their lies in the northern sector of Africa, the river Bugara, which winds its way to the borders of the forbidden land of Zoroka.

No white man has ever ventured into the ill-ohman land of Zoroka. None that is except one Lord Kingsley and his lady, whose disappearance 20 years before the time of our story, has become somewhat of a legend.

And perhaps the following account would never have been recorded, or if not the Tarzan had one day noted the ominous maneuvers of Ska, The vulture, flying low overhead circling some creature, not yet quite dead.

As Tarzan made his way to the spot, Numa the lion dropped from a ledge and moved cautiously toward the form, lying motionless on the ground. The form of a white man. The man stirred at the sound of the king of beasts, struggled to rise only to fall back, terrified, staring at the huge creature.

No! No! Musical heavens let me die, but not like this, not like this! No! Numa! No more will go away. But don't come close, man. We'll both be killed. Stay away! I perfectly still. Agarano.

Agarano. He is gone now. Are you all right? I guess so. Thanks to you. For a moment I thought I was done for. No more was not hungry. Just curious. But there would have been much danger if you attempted to flee.