First Prize - Death

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 white sun of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of first prize death. The capital really consisted of two cities.

In the old city, Axtron Karts threaded their way through a melange of richly rolled Arabs of nearly naked savages of Hindus and Eurasians. A scent of strong spices filled the air and blended with the music of the Orient.

But the new city was typically modern. The governor's palace was a glass brick and marble, and its gleaming white driveway played host to many late model cars. Now, in the brightness of the tropical morning, The limousine drove up to the entrance and a man got out.

Like the city, he too was a strange combination. His complexion was swarthy, his features oriental, and yet his suit was of an English cut, and he walked briskly through the halls of the palace in a manner foreign to the east.

Thank you, Governor. I've been inspecting it. Oh, but perhaps I was too hasty. I was expecting a gentleman who phoned me from Cairo. I am he. Your original whiting? Whiting? That is correct. You find it hard to accept an English name in the possession of one with an Egyptian countenance?

Oh, I bet no offense. I merely thought that perhaps a mistake had been made. We have many requests for individuals. You made no mistake. And I made none when I took an English name legally.