Presenting the transcription feature, Superman! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Superman! Yes, it's Superman! Strange visitor from the planet Krypton, who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman, who can leap tall buildings at a single bound, race a speeding bullet to its target, bend steel in his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for truth and justice. And now to our story. Taking advantage of the superstitious nature of the savage Narwhan Indians, Clark Kent and his guides of Superman made a spectacular appearance before their chief and in the role of a great spirit requested as a gift some of the brown crystal antidote for which he had come to Central America. At the same time, he asked for and received some of the antidote to the poison used on the Narwhan blowgun dots. Back at the rubber plantation where John Carter's life was slowly ebbing away from a poisoned dart wound, Kent gave him the medicine in the nick of time. While they were talking, after Carter's recovery, a cry sounded from outside. Kent went to investigate. As he left the cottage, Pango Pete, the white derelict who was in league with the Indians, slipped in through the back door and stole the leather pouches containing the precious antidotes. When Kent, in response to Carter's frenzied cries, returned, Pango Pete was gone. Meanwhile, 2,000 miles away in the Metropolis Stadium, the all-important football game between Metropolis and Southwest University has gone into the fourth quarter. In a booth high above the field, a sports announcer reports the progress of the game. Southwest fall of the Metropolis 15-yard line directly at midfield. Going to attempt a field goal with Southwest ace-to-artist, Big Johnny McGuire, getting the assignment. Lining up now. Hackerty will receive in the bowl. Here's the pass. And that makes the score of Southwest 17, Metropolis 6, putting the ball game on ice for all practical purposes. Nothing seems to have happened to the Metropolis team. With the score 6-0 in their favor at the beginning of the fourth quarter, this undefeated team has played it for the Rose Bowl, just went to beat it. Bob Harris, captain of the All-American fullback, started the collapse by bumbling Southwest kick-offs. In an effort to stand the tide, Coach Taylor has thrown every reserve on the board into the team. What the next six to the half minutes will bring is anybody's guess, but it's a trouble in the most reasonable... The mocking echoes of Southwest University's cheering penetrate to the basement dressing room of the Metropolis team, where Professor Nelson, dean of the medical school, and Spike Taylor, the coach, are closeted in the latter's office. Taylor, nervous and on edge, is pacing the floor. Hadn't you better go out on the bench, Mr. Taylor? What's the use? I can't do anything for them. Perhaps it might help their morale. Morale? That has nothing to do with morale, Professor. Those boys are sick. They've been doped. I can't stand sitting out there and watching them go through the motions without knowing what they're doing. Isn't there anything you can do? Why is medical science so helpless? Of course, we can only cure, Mr. Taylor, when we know the cause of the ailment. The substance contained in the potion Dr. Stone administered the team to defied analysis. Every possible effort has been made. The drug is, as we are aware, the concoction of a tribe of Central American Indians, probably derived from some native root to berry. The laboratory has given it all the possible tests to determine its contents in Norway. But there is an antidote. Well, Stone mentioned it in his diary, and his sister told us there were brown crystals that killed the effect of the potion immediately. Yes, I know. But the antidote is in Central America, 2,000 miles away. It would take months to get, if it could be gotten at all. No, Professor, I can't understand what happened to Clark Kent. His office hasn't heard from him in three days. It's strange, because he seemed so interested. All a man just doesn't vanish into thin air. He'll probably turn up. Kent is not our problem. What is our problem? Well, it's trying to solve the mystery of that Indian drug. But I'm afraid we've failed. Well, I suppose there's nothing we can do except stand by and watch the slaughter. I don't care for myself particularly. Although you can bet your bottom dollar those sportswriters will take me apart piece by piece in tomorrow's papers, it's the boys on the team. They're the greatest sufferers. If you mean physically, I wouldn't worry too much. The recovery from the effects of this mysterious potion seems rapid and complete. All it does is create a temporary dizziness. No, no, I don't mean physically. I told them it was up to the team to raise enough money to meet the terms of the Richards' will so that the medical laboratory could get that three million dollar legacy. They know it won't be earned unless we're invited to play at the Rose Bowl. What can they be thinking of out in the field now? Fumbling, running around in circles, tackling like cream puffs. Suppose we both go out to the bench, Mr. Taylor. Possibly there's been a change. The potion may have worn off. Come. Shall we? All right. Probably another touchdown. And that makes it 23 to 6 with Southwest on the long end of the floor. On a 30-yard pass, Gordon McRain, the Southwest quarterback raised 47 yards to a touchdown without having a hand laid on it. I see the coach Taylor just turned to Metropolis bench. Making something. Dive clock on the west side of the field shows three minutes to go. Not much time with 17 points separating two teams. Sad day for Metropolis. A very sad day. And here are some substitutions for you. Slate for Bob Harris. McCoy for Danny. Saunders for Willis. Time has been called. The Southwest band is forming a huge victory yet. Down at the other end of the field. And just listen to that gear. Three minutes to go in the football game for which the stakes are $3 million. A million a minute. All hope seems lost. And yet, unknown to any of the thousands of people crowded into the Metropolis Stadium, the darkness of a Central American jungle is the scene of a dramatic chase that may well determine the outcome of the game. There, Clark Kent, having thrown aside his reported disguise, is trailing Pango Pete, the white derelict, as Superman. The jungle is alive with the blood-curdling cries of wild beasts that roar defiance as Superman plows his way to the matted, twisted undergrowth. The only way he could have come. The only semblance of a path. He didn't have much of a lead, so I should be closing in on him soon. Stuff is certainly thick. Twisted vines and heavy brush. Now, one of those Indians camp here. It's like going through barbed wire. What? That doesn't sound like an animal. It isn't. It's a human voice screaming for help. I wonder could it be Pango Pete. What? Great Scott, it is Pango Pete. Caught by a giant boar constrictor. Oh, he's crushing them in his coils. I never tackled a 50-foot snake before, but there's nothing like trying. Here goes. There we are. Oh, you don't like being interfered with, huh? Open those coils. Come on. Open them. There, that does it. Now, I'll just tie you into a knot that you'll never squirm out of. There we are. Now, to see what happened to Pango Pete. Oh, he's done for. Got to him too late. Well, I can't say the world has suffered any great loss. Now, where are those leather pouches? Let's see. Ah, here in the shirt. Both of them. There isn't time to stop back at the plantation. I've got to get to Metropolis immediately. Even now, it may be too late. Up, up, and away! Red cloak streaming in the wind. Superman speeds north, carrying the precious antidote to the mysterious drug affecting the players on the Metropolis football team. Meanwhile, in the stadium, the referee's whistle sounds for the resumption of play. On the Metropolis bench, Coach Taylor and Professor Nelson watch the teams line up. Ah, you see why I didn't want to sit out here, Professor Nelson. Look at those boys. They're all groggy. They can't stand up on their feet. This game can't be over too soon for me. Now, there's the kickoff. Harris never punted less than 50 yards in his life. That kick went 20. It was a lot. Ah, 32-yard line at the kickoff. There's four on this play. You just wait and see. Taylor, call time. Hurry. Kent, where did you come? Call time. Don't ask questions. Metropolis, time! Now, get the team down to the dressing room. What a hell of a bitch! I've got the antidote. Hurry. You only have three minutes. I can't take the team off the field. It's against the rules. Well, then get the balance of the squad into the dressing room. Professor Nelson and I will take care of them. When we send them back, make substitutions as fast as you can. Don't waste a second. Come on, Professor. This is our only chance. Ladies and gentlemen, and so am I. With only three minutes to play, time was called by Coach Taylor of Metropolis. Every Metropolis reserve left the bench for the dressing room. And down there, a miracle happened. The same men who just a minute before were tired and beaten came out like raging tigers. In three lightning plays, Metropolis scored to make the tally 23 to 13. And then, kicking from the 49-yard line, Captain Bob Harris landed a stunning field goal between the upright, and the score was 23-16. And that draw you heard a moment ago marked the second Metropolis touchdown, the result of a forward pass into the southwest end zone. And so, as we go into the last 20 seconds of play, the score is tied at 23-23 with a ball in the possession of Metropolis on the southwest 44-yard line. Anything can happen now. Anything. There's the whistle. Teams are lining up. And so, another adventure of Superman ends in a blaze of glory. But there are new thrills in store for us, beginning with the very next episode. Thrills and adventure that only the Man of Steel can provide. So, don't fail to be with us when we begin our new story. Thrills galore, so tune in and listen with Superman. Don't forget, tune in again for the next thrilling episode with Superman. It's a plane. It's Superman. Superman is a copyrighted feature appearing in Action Comics magazine. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. It's a plane. 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