Kellogg's Pep, the super delicious cereal, presents The Adventures of Superman. Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings at a single bound. Up in the sky, it's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman. Yes, it's Superman. And today, as we continue our story of the boy king of Morania, it would seem that his enemies have triumphed. We'll get the details in a moment, but right now, here's Dan McCullough to tell you more about the nifty model of the walkie-talkie. Say, gang, what would you say if I told you you could whisper to a pal from the top of a 12-story building and be clearly heard? Why, you'd probably say I was kidding, but I'm not. No, sir. Just listen. If you've been smart enough to send in for a Kellogg model walkie-talkie, you can add enough communication line to it so that it operates over a distance of nearly 200 feet. And that's as far as from the top of a 12-story building to the ground. But, gang, before I tell you more about the wonderful things you can do with your Kellogg model walkie-talkie, I'd like to describe it for you. It's about a foot high, made of strong cardboard, done in regular army color, and it comes with full instructions for assembling. With it, you get two aerial sticks, a tuning-in dial, and a receiver transmitter, along with 48 feet of communication line. Now, when you get your Kellogg model walkie-talkie properly set up, you can give the receiver transmitter to a pal, and the two of you can both talk and listen from a distance of 48 feet. That's quite a way, gang. It's almost clear across the schoolyard or down the block. Best of all, if you get your pals to send in for their Kellogg model walkie-talkies, too, you can hook them all up together and have a smart, modern communication system that works for hundreds of feet. So, gang, don't waste any more time. Send two box tops from packages of Kellogg's Pep, along with a dime and your name and address clearly printed, to Superman, Box 80, Battle Creek, Michigan. That's two box tops and ten cents in cash, along with your name and address, to Superman, Box 80, Battle Creek, Michigan. You'll be rushed your own Kellogg model walkie-talkie that really works. And now, the adventures of Superman. Superman, having forced Charles Barrett, the boy king of Morania, to sign away his throne, Count Moniak, the Moranian traitor, left the boy near death in a metropolis warehouse. Jimmy Olsen, who had been with Charles, managed to escape and told what had happened. And while the young king was rushed to a hospital, city and government police agencies bent all efforts to apprehend Moniak. But the wily Nazi eluded them and made contact with a German submarine that night. As we continue now, the black swastika-marked U-boat is silently sliding like a great fish through the moonless, dark waters of the Atlantic. In the wheel room, the gloating Count Moniak and the burly submarine commander are congratulating each other. Listen. Now, with our friend Carl on Morania's throne, there will be plenty of oil for Nazi war machines. Eh, Count Moniak? Plenty, Herr Capitan. Enough to keep the Führer's armies in the Bavayan redoubt, fighting for years and years. Until the American, British, and Russian swine despair of ever defeating us and are willing to make turns. Excellent. Excellent. Lack of oil, as you know, was our only fear. Everything else? Food? Munitions? Tanks? Planes? All these are stored in abundance in the mountain around Beata's garden. Yes. Now the Führer will have everything. Morania is rich in oil, Herr Capitan. And since I have persuaded our stupid boy, King, to abdicate in favor of his cousin, all of Morania's oil will go to the Führer. You will find him appreciative, Count Moniak. In his plans for the next world war and the new order to follow, he will surely give you a great place. I am looking forward to that. There is... But what is that, my friend? A young newspaper reporter, Olsen by name, knows what transpired between me and the boy King in the province. By this time, he must have already gone to the police and perhaps let them back to Charles. And if Charles is dead, what does it matter? I told you, Olsen knows that I was forcing Charles to abdicate the throne in favor of his cousin. The police may easily guess that I succeeded, or Charles may have regained consciousness long enough to tell them. Knowing what that will mean to the course of the war, the American government will make every effort to prevent me from bringing the abdication papers to Morania. And you fear they may be able to do that? It is possible. When they are unable to find me in Metropolis, they may surmise that I escaped in a submarine. They will then send great numbers of ships and planes to seek this U-boat. You need have no fears, my dear Count. I, too, know how important it is that you arrive safely in Morania. And so I have made arrangements to ensure your safe arrival. I have perfected a plan which not even the combined navies and air forces of America and England can oppose. A truly magnificent... The old pig eye is gleaming in his meady face. The Nazi submarine commander reveals to Count Moniak his plan for escaping American sub-patrols. Meanwhile, in Perry White's office in the Daily Planet, the gray-haired editor paces the floor anxiously. While seated in a chair, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands, is Dr. Tragor, the elderly, dignified ambassador of Morania. I don't know why we haven't heard from Inspector Henderson yet. He's had all day and evening to find that... that quizling Count Moniak. Why doesn't he call up and say he's got him? I fear his efforts will be in vain, Mr. White. Oh, nonsense, Dr. Tragor. What makes you say that? Because Mr. White Count Moniak is a very clever man. He's a master of cleverness and guile. What do you think our police and FBI are, dopes? No, no, of course not. Well, they're not. Then take it from me, they're... Maybe that's Inspector Henderson now. Very wise speaking. Ah, well, it's only you, Olsen. Well, what do you want? Now, they didn't find men I get. You think I'd be waiting in my office at this hour of the night if they did? Now, that's all you called up about. What? What's that? No, I don't want you to come back here. I've got enough on my mind without you getting in my hair, too. What hair? Now, you look here, you, you, you, you, you insolent young pipsqueak. More hair than most men of my age. I, I... Oh, sorry, Dr. Traeger, that was Olsen. He's at the hospital with young Chuck Barrett. I mean your young king. Oh, yes. Did he give you news of his majesty's condition? You bet, and good news, too. The doctor says he's going to recover. Oh, I'm so glad. But it comes too late. He has already abdicated his throne to his cousin Carl, the Nazi collaborator. Now Hitler will get all of Morania's great oil supply. No, not if we catch that rat manically, he won't. Uh, excuse me, Mr. White. Well, what do you want, Beanie? Well, excuse me, Mr. White, but I want to ask you a question for Mr. Robertson. He'll be right, man. He says he has to know the answer to this question. Oh, he does, eh? Well, what do you think this is, the information desk? No, sir. I mean the information desk is closed. It's after 11 o'clock. But Mr. Roberts says he can't send Miss Lane's story to the composing room until he checks up on this question. Okay, okay, what is it? What is it? What is it he wants to know? Are the Dodgers going to win the pennant? Are you kidding? With the team they got this year, one of the giants will show life. Stop it, stop it, for the love of heaven, stop it. Now what is it you want to know? I don't want to know nothing. It's Mr. Roberts who wants to know. He says, even if Morania gets a Nazi king, like Miss Lane says in her story, they might get now. Well, how are they going to get there while they hit them when the Allies have just about got Germany surrounded? Not to mention cut in hand. Well, well... I can explain that. Well, you see... Just a minute, Dr. Baker. Beanie, did Roberts or you happen to take a look at any one of the couple of dozen maps we have hung in the city room? Sure, I don't know, Chief. I mean, Mr. White, you want I should ask him? No, I don't want you should ask him. I want you should tell him to do it. Sure, I mean, yes, sir. Only, I don't see how that answers his question. Oh, you don't, eh? Well, you'll look at the map, too. Maybe you'll learn something, although I doubt it. You'll find that Morania is so situated that until the Allies make more gains, enough oil can be moved from Morania to Berkusgaden to keep Hitler and his gang going for a long time. During which time, anything might happen, including the loss of thousands of our boys. Does that make it any clearer? Chief Weiss, Josh, Chief or something? It sure does, Chief. I'll Chief you! Now you get out of here and tell Roberts I had those maps put up for reference, not for wall decorations. Yes, sir. I'll tell him, Chief. I mean, Mr. White. Now, wait a minute. Did Kent get back yet? I ain't seen him. Haven't seen him, you numbskull. Oh, where is he? Anytime I want him, he's not around. And anytime I don't want him, he's... He's what, Chief? Words fail me. Well, it's about time. Hiya, Mr. Kent. Hello, Beanie. Go on, Beanie. Get out. Yes, sir. Ah, good evening, Mr. Kent. Good evening, Dr. Tragar. I'm very glad to see you're still here. Yeah, that's very, very nice. But we haven't heard from Inspector Henderson yet, Kent, and I suppose it's too much to hope that you found out anything. I found out one thing, one very important thing. You did, Mr. Kent? Well, what's that? Well, I called Henderson's office just before I came in, and he told me that his men are on the way here now. What? Here? What for? To pick up Dr. Tragar. To pick up? To pick me up? Kent, are you serious? Certainly am. They're right in there, Lieutenant. Hey. Good evening, gentlemen. Oh, you see, here's Lieutenant Carney now. Good evening, Lieutenant. I think maybe we'd better let Lieutenant Carney explain. Amazed, Harry White stares from the dignified, pale-faced Moranian ambassador to the alert police Lieutenant Carney who strides into the office. What does this mean? We'll return in a moment to find out. But first, let's find out how all of us can be helpful to the less fortunate people of Europe. Gang, you probably know that right now, all over this country, people are looking through attics and closets for used clothing to send to the bombed-out families in Europe. As a matter of fact, your own mother has probably gotten started on your family collection, seeing how many used coats and suits and other garments she can collect for those families who have none. Now, here's how every one of you can help out a great deal. You should make it your job to see that your own family's clothing contribution gets to your local collection station, neatly bundled up and ready to be turned over. In fact, you might form a team with the members of your gang and check every family in your neighborhood to make sure that they've made a clothing collection. And also, that this contribution is taken down to the center. You see, this clothing won't do a bit of good to anybody if it's just collected and left at home. It's got to be taken down to the collection center. And gang, that's a job for you. You probably already know where that center is in your town, or if you don't, your teacher or your parents can tell you. So get busy on this job, gang. It's not hard to do, and it's certainly mighty worthwhile. And now, back to the adventures of Superman. And while Metropolis and government police agencies carried on a feverish search for Count Moniak, Clark Kent brought word to the Daily Planet that the police were on their way to the planet to pick up Dr. Tragor, the Moranian ambassador. As we continue now, we find Kent, White, and Dr. Tragor in a police car with Lieutenant Carney. Lieutenant Carney, I demand to know where you are taking me and why. Yes, and this had better be good, Carney. After all, Dr. Tragor is the Moranian ambassador to our government. I hope you know what you're doing, Lieutenant. This may embarrass Washington, you know. Now, wait a minute. Take it easy, all of you. Dr. Tragor is being arrested. I am not. Yes. Then what are you... Of course not. Well, then may I inquire where you're taking him and us at this time of night, Lieutenant? Surely it isn't just for a breath of the sweet night air. Not at all, Mr. White. I'm going to the morgue. The morgue? You are taking me to the morgue. But why? We are hoping you can identify a body, Dr. Tragor. A body? Oh, no. Don't tell me. Easy, Dr. Tragor. What body, Lieutenant? That's what we're hoping Dr. Tragor can tell us, Kent. Here we are. Come on. I'm so confused. So bewildered. All this I do not understand at all. It's all right, neither do I. But we'll be straightened out soon enough. Of course, this body has something to do with the Count Manik business, Lieutenant. Yeah. You mean you think it is Manik's body? I'm not saying anything yet. Come on in. Hello, Lieutenant. Hello, Mike. We want to see that body that was just brought in. You know the one. Sure. Over here. Well, it will tell the story. What story, Lieutenant? That's what I want to know. And I. It'll tell us whether Count Manik's dirty scheme to sell out Morheny at the Hitler worked or failed. Okay, Mike. Let's see him. Training forward, barely holding their breaths. Clark Kent Perrywhite and Dr. Tragor watch the morgue attendant wheel a surgical table under a spotlight. Whose body will they see? And how will the discovery affect the Nazis' desperate last-ditch plot? We'll know tomorrow, so don't fail to listen then. Tune in, same time, same station, and follow the adventures of Superman. Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings at a single bound. Up in the sky. It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman. Fellas and girls, be sure to follow the adventures of Superman. Brought to you every day, Monday through Friday, same time, same station, by the makers of that super delicious cereal, Kellogg's Pep. Superman is a copyrighted feature, appearing in Superman DC publications. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.