The Wicked Cyborg by Ron Goulart

found in the elephant’s graveyard provides plenty—”
    “Oh, sure, live on that and desert the family business.” Jerry shook his head. “Boy, if dad could see you guys now he’d—”
    “Good morning, gentlemen,” said Electro, leaving the girl and Tad and moving closer to the bickering jungle men. “We appreciate your frightening off those tharks for us.”
    “Manners,” said Jerry to his brothers. “There’s another thing dad was always trying to instill in you dolts. Here you let our guests stand around while—”
    “I was wrestling the damn thark,” reminded Dik. “I was busy doing what a jungle man is supposed to do, whereas you two bumpkins were falling out of trees and—”
    “If that poor thark hadn’t broken your fall you’d have—”
    “Forgive my brothers, sir,” said Mort. “It is sir, isn’t it, and not madam? Or miss? With you robots I’m never quite cert—”
    “Of course I’m masculine,” said Electro, briefly glancing down at himself. “I did get rid of any traces of Mother Z, didn’t I?”
    “I didn’t mean to imply there was anything effeminate about you, sir,” said Mort. “What I was trying to—”
    “Mort’s not much good at communicating with anyone,” said Jerry. “You ought to see him trying to converse with an ape, or even a snerg. He actually has trouble getting through to tigers, if you can imagine that.”
    “Well, I don’t fancy a tiger would be all that—”
    “But we were raised by tigers,” said Jerry. “Or rather Dad was. So there’s a family tradition, as it were, for being able to get along with the things.”
    “Allow me,” said Electro, “to introduce myself. I am Bozo the Robot and my young charges are Constance and Ulric Rowdybush, a devoted brother and sister I am escorting.”
    “Are you maybe lost in the jungle?” inquired both Mort and Jerry at once.
    “No, we are perfectly aware of our location,” replied Electro.
    “Reason we ask,” said Dik, “is we’re pretty good at guiding lost travelers to safety. I mean, that is part of what jungle men do, after all.”
    “You still haven’t,” pointed out Jana while she and Tad approached the group, “told us who you are.”
    “Manners,” said Jerry. “We’re the Ty-Gor Triplets.”
    “Our father,” added Dik, “was Ty-Gor.”
    “The famous jungle man,” said Mort, watching their faces.
    “Doesn’t ring a bell, miss?”
    “I bet she’s heard of Ka-anga,” said Jerry, kicking at a clump of moss with his big toe. “Him I bet she’s heard of.”
    “Oh, yes, Ka-anga the jungle man,” said Jana. “He was well-known when I was a child. He rescued lost travelers in the jungle, fought wild animals and occasionally stumbled onto a hidden civilization. Everybody’s heard of him.”
    “He stole the whole idea from our dad,” said Dik.
    “Exactly,” said Mort. “The entire jungle man gimmick was dreamed up by our father. He did it quite by accident, you understand. His parents were eaten by tharks and he was left alone in these wilds. Yes, alone in the wilderness, a wee babe of four years and—”
    “Four years old, that’s not so wee,” said Jana.
    “He was small for his age,” said Jerry. “Now let me get on with the Ty-gor legend. Okay, so there was Pop a wee babe all alone and this maternal tiger found him and it chanced she had recently lost her own baby. She took in Dad and nursed him and reared him.”
    “That won’t work, will it?” asked the girl. “You can’t raise a human on tiger milk, can you?”
    “Sure you can,” said Dik. “She reared our Dad, didn’t she?”
    “Tiger’s milk is good for you,” said Mort.
    “Anyhow, dad grew up with the tigers and he took to calling himself Ty-gor,” continued Jerry. “See, it sounds sort of like tiger. Ty-gor.”
    “What was his real name?” Jana asked.
    The brothers all studied their toes.
    “It wasn’t anything near so catchy,” said Dik finally.
    “No, Ty-gor has a real snappy