Hunter's Fury

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 Hunter's Fury. In the background, one could hear the chompering of an elephant, the howling of a hyena, the roar of a lion.

And yet this was no tangled jungle, but a collection of concrete and steel buildings that made up the zoo of a modern American city. One of the buildings housed the administrative offices, and Douglas Hamley, a young assistant curator, occupied a tiny cubicle on the second floor.

At the moment, he wore a look of pain and consternation, almost as though he were to face to face with one of his savage charges. Actually, he was alone in his office and he was merely talking on the telephone.

Talking? Well, for the most part, he was listening. Yes, dear. Yes, I know, but... No. But Esther, we can't afford it. No, we're overdrawn now. Well, I'll try to dig up the money somewhere, but...

Hello? Hello? She hung up on you, huh? Riggs, where did you come from? Your door was open. Well that doesn't mean you can storm in here like you own the place. Oh take it easy, Doug.

I didn't mean to intrude on some private matter between you and your wife. Door was open on it. Oh, I'm sorry. I guess it's just that Esther's got me on edge. She keeps forgetting about the size of my salary.