 with the speed of light, the cloud of dust, and a hearty high old silver, the Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early west in the United States. The stories of his strength and courage, his daring and resourcefulness have come down to us through the generations, and nowhere in the pages of history can one find a greater champion of justice. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. From out of the past come the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver, the Lone Ranger rides again. Inside the home of the driver of the Overland Express stage in Prairie City, two boys stood admiring the faded yellow coach and the team of four horses which were waiting to make the regular run to Dolby. One of the youth, Danny Kern, was the stage driver's son, the other was his friend. Someday I'm going to be a stage driver, just like my dad. It takes muscle to drive a foreign hand. Oh, you bet, and I got it. Huh? Oh, look at this if you don't believe me. Yeah, that ain't so much. It's better than you can do. Well, I bet you can't drive a stage now. Oh, I bet you I can. I already done it. When? Well, not so times. Whenever dad takes me on one of his trips. You're just fooling. I am not. If dad wasn't going to drive that stage soon, I'd show you. Go on. I dare you to drive it. I tell you, dad's taking it out on his run. It's easy to talk. Will you go with me if I do? You mean you'll drive it? If you go with me. Well, are you afraid? Of course not. Well, come on then. All right, come on. Quickly the two boys scurried to the driver's seat of the stage, and Danny scooped up the reins. With an air of authority, he spoke to the horses, then released the brake. Get out there. Get out, horse. We're moving. Of course we are. I told you I could drive. Where will we go? On a trail. Then I'll show you some real driving. Are you sure you know how? Oh, afraid he can't look at them turning green. I am not. Hang on then. Here we go. Get out. Get out there. The main street of town lumbered the stage, while the town folk gave it to the two boys who sat on the driver's seat. Needless of the warnings of the sheltered affluent, Danny headed the foreign hand to the Dobie trail. Oh, look at them horses. What? Say, this is five. I bet I could drive it clear to Dobie. You ain't going to the warrior. Well, not this time, dad. It's giving me a lie. Well, how far are you going? Oh, just for a spell down the road. Are you sure, dad? That'll end horses, Dan. Hey, you want to try your hand? You think I could? Oh, sure, as long as I'm here to help you. Well, maybe I better not. What are you scared of? Here, let me change places with you. As Dan Haft stood in the driver's seat at the fast-moving stage, two riders quickly rained in their horses. One of them was a tall man who wore a white hat and a black mask. The other was an Indian. The boy is driving their stage tunnel. Now he's changing places with the other. That's plenty dangerous. Yes, it's suicide. That stage is heading for a sharp curve. That's right. We must warn them. Come on, Sylvester. Urging the powerful white stallion and the sturdy paint forward, the masked man and his Indian friend rode winter-stepped the stage before it was too late. Master Sylvester, come on. It'll be close tunnel. Stay front and be fast. We've got to beat it while Sylvester is away. From the fast-moving stage, the boy has suddenly saw the dangerous curve ahead. Dan, look. Hey, give me those reins. Stop the horses. We'll overturn. Whoa, whoa, there. Whoa. They're running away. Whoa, whoa, horse. Pull up there. Look, a masked man and an Indian outlaws are overtaking us. As the thundering stage drew closer and closer to the sharp curve ahead, the great horse, Sylvester, drew even with the driver's seat and leaped alongside the lead horse of the team. Quickly the lone ranger grasped the team's reins. Whoa, whoa, hold up, whoa. Raining on the reins, he slowly but surely pulled the team to a halt, virtually on the brink of the turn. The coach lumbered to a halt. What are you boys doing with this stage? Well, we were just taking it for a ride. All right, huh? You might have killed yourself. We won't do it again. Oh, no. I better take it back now. My dad's a regular driver. He'll need it for the run to Doben. I'll see you on your way. Help me turn the horses, Tutto. A few days later, across the arid wastes of a sun-bleached prairie, a puff of dust moved along a new wagon trail. Then a sudden breeze whisked the dust away, revealing a stagecoach bound for Prairie City. As the stage lurched wide around a bend, two horsemen watched its approach. Something wrong with that stage, Tutto. Horses run way. Look at the garden driver. Let me see. Something's happened to the let's go. Half hour later, a strange procession filed down the main street of Prairie City toward the express office. The town folk gape as it slowly lumbered past, then buzzed with excitement. Hey, Sheriff. Stages here, Sheriff. It's been way late again. What's that? There it is. You can see for yourself. Look who's driving it. A mask man. And a ninja. What is it, Sheriff? No yet, Ram, but I'm aiming to fire now. I'll go with you. Me too. Come down off that stage, you two. I've got your cover. Put those guns back in the leather, Sheriff. How are our friends? I'll decide for myself who you are, Mr. Meanwhile, if either one of you make a wrong move, you'll get a sludge for those six guns. Hey, Sheriff. Yeah? The driver and the guard. They're dead. Narita, mark on them. Mark on them. This is the third time that's happened inside a month. Maybe they died of bad heart or something, Sheriff. Are you a slow-witted maverick? If it had been just one, she might be right. But six corpse had been brought in by stage, and all without a mark on them. Right, Sheriff. Much more, the stage has been looted every time. That's right, Sheriff. There's no two ways about it. Those men were murdered. And this mask starving the engine of the ones who did it. You're right there, too. These two men were dead when we found them. A likely story, ain't it, Sheriff? Who are you? I'm District Superintendent of the Stage Company, Mr. And I'm charging you with murder and theft against the Oberlin Express. Oh, Dad, bring them up. It's Danny Kern, the stage driver's boy. Let me through. All right, get back there. Let the kids through. Dad, get the damn work away. Dad! Father's dead, Dad. Dad? You're the man? That's the man who killed him. That's the man who sent two murderers. Yeah! Come on, Tutto, steady silver. All of our way. Now, hold on there. I'll get him. What's so fast? The lone ranger and Tutto rode along the new stage trail, seeking a clue to the mysterious murders. Somewhere along this trail, six men were murdered, Tutto. Uh-huh. No sign of injury. Who's coming? Who's coming? Oh, oh, oh. Where is it, Tutto? You look there. You're a big fella. The stage was driven off the trail and alongside that boulder. They follow tracks. Maybe find something. There are three sets of wagon tracks leading from the trail. Not right. Kimosabi, maybe find something. You look here on rock. Gold dust. At least it looks like it. Gold was stolen from the stage. Not right. What that mean? Working alone, the outlaw found the loot too heavy to handle, without dropping and breaking the boxes. Oh. I drove the stage off the trail and slid them onto this boulder, and probably onto pack horses. This dust trickled from the boxes. Oh, Tontosabi, no. That means he knew the garden driver would be dead when the stage got here. What killer? Easy, big fella. Answer lies on the trail ahead, Tutto. Come on, Tutto. Hit him up, Tutto. The next day, the sheriff was in the district office of the stage company, conferring with the manager. All right. As I size things up... Oh, just a minute, Sheriff. Who's there? It's me. Danny Kern. That's the son of the stage driver who was killed yesterday. I wonder what he wants. Ask him in and find out. All right. Come on in. Sorry about your poor death, son. Yeah, me too. We mean to make it up to you by catching the yellow-livered coyote who killed him. Yeah, that mask man is ancient friend. Well, that's what I come to see about, Mr. Rand. What? I want you to give me the chance to catch a killer that murdered my dad. What's that? Oh, can I give you the chance, boy? By giving me the job driving the stage my dad drove before he died. What? What? Well, don't laugh. Oh, sorry, son. But I thought I heard you say you wanted to drive the stage. I did. Horsifact, the kid's plum serious. How old are you, boy? 14. But I can handle a foreign hand. 14. You got size and weight enough to pass rating. Where'd you learn to handle a foreign hand? My dad taught me. He used to take me with him on some of his trips. And you think by taking your dad's place, you might meet up with a murderer, son? That's what I'm hoping. The new stage trail runs through some pretty dangerous and deserted country, Danny. Yeah, driving that coach is a man's job. Only one water hole in the whole stretch. When you come to it, you're so dog-gone thirsty you like to drown yourself getting enough to drink. I want that job, Mr. Rand. You got the spunk for a stage driver. I'll say that, son. I don't know. I heard you needed drivers for the new stage trail since some killings commenced, Mr. Rand. That's so. I heard you couldn't get no experience driver to take the job. The boy's got you there, Rand. Six men have been murdered riding the stage on that trail. Yeah. And do you want the job in spite of it? Yes, sir. What makes you think you'd bring the stage through when six grown men have been able to? I'll bring them horses through all right, Mr. Rand. And when I get to Prairie City, I'll be driving them. They won't be pulling my corpse. Dog-gone it, Rand. Let the boy try it. I like his nerve. Just give me one chance, Mr. Rand. You haven't got anything to lose. No, no, nothing but four good horses in a stage in Congo. Give the lad his chance. I've got an idea. All right, boy. The job's yours. Thanks, Mr. Rand. Report to me here tomorrow. You'll take the stage at Dobie in the morning and drive it back to Prairie City in the afternoon. Yes, sir. Goodbye. Goodbye, Jack. Good luck to you. Got the job, Rex. Now I'll get the critter that killed my dad. Get that boy. Get up there. The youth rode away. A lone ranger and Tonto watched from a nearby concealment where they had listened to the conversation. I'm going in now, Tonto. I'll wait here. And what? Change your... I don't think so. I have a hunch there. I'll map out a plan after I get what I came for. I want you to overhear that plan. Tonto, Sandy. I'll wait for you at the fork outside of town. Adios. Adios. Hey, what the... The mask, man. Keep your guns in leather. They're covered. Put them chute knives down, stranger. And surrender in the name of the law. I didn't come to surrender, Sheriff. So you admit you're the killer. You'll think that whether I deny it or not, Rand. And you are the murder and coyote. No, I'm not, Sheriff. I came here for information. Information? What kind? I want to know when the stage leaves here for Dobie tomorrow morning. I'm going to schedule to leave Dobie in the afternoon. So you can murder more of our men and loot the coach again, huh? You're becoming insistent on that point, Rand. I don't like it. Pretty brave when you're standing behind them six guns, aren't you? You think it'd be a match for me if I weren't? I'd be twice the match of the likes of you, mister. Sheriff, here are my guns. What? Now, Rand, prove your point. Well, prove it. Miss that swing, Rand. Well, I won't miss this. That'll do for you, Rand. What a wallop you've got, stranger. Flush on the jaw. Now, Rand, I'll take that information. It gets the rules to give to anybody except them. The boy's a fair. Very well. I'll buy one. Oh, are you? I never mind, Rand. That chart on the wall seems to be the schedule. I'll just help myself. No, no, stop him, Sheriff. My gun, Sheriff, if you please. He's getting away. Stop him. Gornet, I've never seen anything like that mask man. Never. The curtain falls on the first act of our Lone Ranger story. Before the next exciting scenes, please permit us to pause for just a few moments. Now to continue our story. After the Lone Ranger escaped in a hail of bullets, Tonto crept closer outside the window and listened. It's the second time you've let that mask arm break it away from your sheriff. How are you going to hang on to Grease Lighthouse? You better do something to catch him pretty quick. Well, I name him, too. Oh. What's the stage freighten the doby tomorrow? Oh, nothing valuable. I'm not going to do that. What's the stage freighten the doby tomorrow? Oh, nothing valuable. What's it carrying on the return trip? Gold. Gold, eh? You think we better move the shipment back a couple of days? No. That gold's going to stick to schedule. But I can't afford... We'll use it as bait to lure the mask man into a trap. Oh. What's your plan, Sheriff? I'll ride the stage on the return trip myself. I'll take the job as guard of the gold. You mean... I'll swear in a lot of new deputies today to post along the trail. All along the trail? Yeah, but regular intervals. There ain't no sense in stationing them in dry gold, Sheriff. Part of the trail's clean deserted. Ain't even a shrub for the murderer to hide behind. I'm not taking any chances. Well, I guess you're right. We'll have that killer bottled up no matter where he strikes. Yeah. Well, I'll be getting along. I've got a lot of deputies to swear in before tomorrow. So you think you'll have the killer bottled up, Sheriff? Urging his sturdy paint ahead, Tonto rode to the fork outside of town with a lone ranger waited. He quickly reported what he had heard. Well, the sheriff is pushing men all along the trail, huh, Tonto? That's right. That's the surest way to scare the killer off. Ah. To capture the murderer, we'll have to get those deputies away from the trail. What do we do? Well, I have a plan, Tonto. That'll require a third person to carry it out. Someone we can trust. You know a person? Yes, I think I do, Kimosubbie. Come on, Silver. Get him up! It was dust when on the trail, not far from town, Danny Kern heard the thunder of distant hoops and, looking back, saw White Stallion with a masked rider rapidly approaching. For a moment, he sat transfixed as the great horse, Silver, raced toward him through the gathering shadows of night. Then, recognizing the rider as the stranger he and Tad had met on the trail, the mysterious masked man whom he believed had murdered his father, Dan spurred his horse ahead. The masked man? Get up, Rex! We ain't got a chance against him without a gun. Get up, boy! Wait, Diane! I want to talk to you! But try as he would to stretch the distance between him and the masked man, Dan soon found his efforts were of little avail. The onrushing Stallion rapidly bridged the gap with powerful, sinewy strides, and a lone ranger reached for Dan's bridle. Oh, Sir Silver! Take your hands off that ranger! Oh, Silver, before I expose! Suppose you're going to kill me just like you did my dad? I didn't kill your father, Dan. You've got to believe that. I suppose this engine's innocent too. Tad and I would like to be your friends, Dan. Ah, you can't trick me like that. Dan, do you want to capture the man who killed your father? You bet I do, and you're him. Tad and I have a plan to trap the killer, but we need your help. Oh, you don't fool me, none, Mister. If you really wanted to catch the killer, you'd just walk into the Sheriff's Office and give yourself up. Perhaps, uh, this will change your mind about me. What? I'm just Silver Bullet. Silver Bullet? A masked man and a white horse. What? You're the lone ranger! Shall we talk about that plan now, Dan? You bet we will! Late the following afternoon, there was a bustle of activity before the express office in Dolby. It was almost time for the departure of the stage for Prairie City, and an exceptionally large and curious crowd of town folk had gathered to watch how the 14-year-old son of a slain stage driver handled the foreign hand on his return run. But then, made confident by the success of his trip from Prairie City, ignored their interest and whispered comments with the aplomb of a veteran. Whoa! Hold up there, horse! Whoa, whoa, there! Whoa! All right, Hank, hit some horses at the stage. Just as you say, Danny. You handle that foreign hand like a veteran already, sir. Thanks, Sheriff. A gold horse to board? Everything's in order. Good. Time to be moving into, Danny. Almost, Sheriff. We, uh, we got a passenger. A passenger? He's coming out of the office now. A tall man in nondescript clothes stepped out of the express office and into the stage. A secret preparation of wild berries and herbs applied to his face by Tonto had almost magically changed its appearance. Where not long before the lone ranger had stood, now walked an ordinary car ham. Horses are all hitched, Danny. Thanks, Hank. You ready, Sheriff? That passenger... You better get moving if you want to make it to Prairie City on time. We're moving right now. Come on, Sheriff. All set, Danny. Get up there, horse! Get up there! Come on! Get up! Get up, horse! Get up! Leaving the outskirts of Dobie, the stage gathered speed, then settled into a steady run under Dan's expert hands. Unknown to the Sheriff, the quarry he so eagerly sought as he fastened his eyes on the trail sat disguised as a passenger inside the coach. How far are we from the water hole, Sheriff? There are quite a ways to go yet, stranger. Have your men seen anything of the outlaw? No. The one at Maskspeller and his Indian friend hold at the stage this time they'll find a mesh of trouble. What's that? I don't know. It's coming from behind us. Why, it's your deputy, Sheriff. They're chasing someone. The injured. Oh, go and let Red Skin... And the Tonto dashed along the stage trail toward Prairie City with the Sheriff's deputies in hot pursuit. Attracted by the thundering hoops and the sound of gunfire, each man in turn left his post and joined the chase. You follow me! The express office in Prairie City sped the chase. Superintendent Rand went to the window to see what the excitement was. All of them leaving their post to chase one innocent engine. It's just what I needed to give me a chance at that gold. It was some time later when Danny Kern brought the stage to a stop at the water hole. The afternoon sun blazed down on the trail with an almost intolerable heat and dust clogged the hot air as the stage slowly rumbled to a halt. Pidgeting beside Dan on the driver's seat, the Sheriff eyed the water hole with keen anticipation of a drink from it to cool his part's throat. Pull up there! Whoa, easy there! Easy there! Whoa, whoa, there! Whoa! Man, I don't know about YouTube but I'm making for that water pronto. I'm so dry I can drown myself. Just a minute, Sheriff. Come on there, horses. Oh, hold on, Danny. If you've got no better sense than let them horses drink first, they'll muddy up the water. Them horses are mighty thirsty, Sheriff. So am I. I ain't hangin' to drink water after horses have stirred it up. Well, maybe you better wait till we get to Prairie City for a drink, Sheriff. Go on, local, Rad. Get them horses out of here. Even muddy water's better than none. Suddenly, from the direction of the stage, a tall man who wore a white hat and a black mask and silver-mounted six guns hung low at his hips, strode toward the Sheriff. Don't drink that water, Sheriff. The mask man! Also, your passengers. Look, you mean this... I removed my disguise and a coat, Sheriff. Jumping juniper. And all my deputies went chasing that engine. That was necessary to give the killer a chance to expose himself. You don't have to expose yourself to me, Mr. I know who you are. Dan, take this gun. Yes, sir. If he tries to drink that water, shoot him. What in thunder? Yes, sir. So you two rent cahoots all the time. The killer's as gritty for gold as I think he is, Sheriff. I'll bring him to you. What? Easy, big fella. Remember, Dan, don't let him drink that water. Yes, sir. Come on, gentlemen. Down the trail, thundered the powerful white stallion. His flying hoop struck sparks from jutting stones and his nostrils widened as the mask man urged him to even greater speed. Then partly concealed by a boulder, they sighted their quarry. Ho, sir, for who? How won't you, Rand? Keep your hands away from those holsters. What do you want? I want you for murder. Murder? You must be a love ghost. No use, stalling, Rand. I have proof. Will you ever take me out of my hands? The second time for you, Rand? Kill them! Kill them! No, you don't. You won't be out of my saddle. You're coming with me, Rand. Come on, gentlemen. What are you taking me? To the waterhole. You'll talk there. At the waterhole, in the baking heat of the afternoon sun, Dan Kern kept his vigil. Watching the angry sheriff grow angrier by the minute as his eyes thirsted on the water, Dan's guns wouldn't permit him to drink. Please, arguments, offers of leniency to Dan in exchange for a mouthful, the water availed him nothing and he lapsed into bitterness. I think I encourage Rand to give you this job and you're working for the killer. I tell you, Sheriff, the masked man ain't the killer. I reckon your pa would say different. Well, the masked man will be back soon, then you'll see. Well, I want a drink of that water. My throat is parched. Oh, no, you don't. You don't touch that water. My throat's parched. Can't help it, Sheriff. My orders are you aren't to drink that water. Oh, boy, who's over who? Don't call it. What's wrong with this water? It's poison, Sheriff. Well, Rand, what are you doing here? Well, I suspect, Sheriff. Rand is a mysterious killer, Sheriff. That's a lie. Well, he saw a tunnel chased by your deputies. He hurried to murder you and Dan as he did the others. Don't listen to him, Sheriff. I found him where I expected. At a boulder where he planned to rob the stage of the gold. Is that right, Rand? No, no, I... I asked him what he's doing on the trail with these pack horses, Sheriff. How could he kill six men and not leave a mark on them? He put poison in this water hole. Poison ordinarily used to kill insects. Oh, Dan's horses drank that water and there is healthy knowledge before. Horses aren't affected by the poison, Sheriff. Men are. That's why you and Dan were so anxious not to let me drink. That's it, Sheriff. One hour after the six men drank here, they were dead. Rand wetted at the boulder where he could be certain of it. He's lying, Sheriff. After looting the stage, Rand sent the horses on again. You'll find the stolen goods at his home. Why, you yellow-libered murderer! Don't touch me, Sheriff. I tell you, he's lying. You won't further prove, Sheriff. Make him drink that water. Go on, Rand. Drink it. No. No, don't make me drink it. Oh, confess, I killed him. I killed him. Now you ought to drown you in that murdering scum. I told you I'd help catch some murder, didn't I, Sheriff? Yes, you did that, Danny. If it wasn't for you and the mask man, why, he's gone. Yep, he's gone. You have just heard as a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.