Lord Of The Jungle (xx) Tarzan and the Arena of 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 son of the jungle. And now, in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of Tarzan and the arena of death. In the ever-important search for food, Tarzan was ranging apart of the jungle unknown to him.

With the keen alertness of the wild creature, he was alive to all that was strange and unusual. No sound escaped his ears, no scent went unidentified from his keen nostrils. For those of the jungle, eternal vigilance is the price of life.

Suddenly Tarzan stopped, the scent of man was strong. Togio! A native calls for help. You are hurt. Mercy Bora. Do not be afraid. I'm Tarzan. The Lord of the Jungle High. Don't be quiet now. I'm rest.

I'll get you water. You feel stronger now? Yes, Tarzan. Who are you? What are you doing alone in this country? I am Wange from the city of Orthole. Orthole? My name is Strange to me.

It is to the east. Two sons. Two days away. What brings you here? What brings you here? My master Thorvall, the King's brother, brought myself and others to hunt meat for our city. The lion-men attacked us.

A lion-men? Yes. It was they who killed the others. You're the only survivor of the hunting party? But for my master Thorvall, they took him prisoner. These lion-men, why are they so called? They train lions to hunt and kill.