 a fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hyo silver, the Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Toto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the planes led the fight for law and order in the early western United States. 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. It was press day at the Modak City News. Dan Reed, the 14-year-old nephew of the Lone Ranger, had called there to buy a copy of the weekly for the masked man. Previous visits had made him acquainted with the staff, and as the paper run had not started he was busy helping Inky, a printer's devil, clear the littered floor. Hilda, a typesetter, worked at a nearby case. While in the back room, editor Tom Carson fought to keep an old whole press in operation. As the machine clattered and thumped, a shadow fell on the glass on the street door. Inky lifted a smudged, impish face. But Dan, there's a tramp outside. Tom never turns one down. It's certainly generous. Didn't he take me in when my folks died? Yes, I know. That fellow's coming in all right. I'll just tell him Tom's out. Oh! Crossing slowly with the aid of a cudgel-like cane, the caller revealed an almost fleshless face. A black patch dangled over one sunken eye. Fixing the other on the boys, he croaked. Where's the editor? Tom! Gosh, I hope he's got his gun. Well, Inky, what is it, friend? Mister, I need some help. This'll do you any good. Well, wait. I'm not begging, even if I haven't eaten lately. I'd like to have you run a wand head. A wand head? For what? A shaven mug. A $100,000 shaven mug. Oh, easy, friend. Easy. Don't out your gun. I'm not crazy. Of course not. Who are you? Patch Denton. That's who I am. Who got papers here from San Quentin, pen to prove it. See? Yeah, see. Oh, gee whiz. He's the last of five outlaw brothers who used to raid around here. Oh, what about the shaven mug? Mister, about 15 years back, my oldest brother, Buck, took a $100,000 in gold pesos from some Mexican revolutionists. Stashed it in these parts. Nice piece of chain. Right afterwards, the law closed in on us. Three of my brothers got killed. I was sent to California to do time. And Buck? They caught him before he could get to that gold. Gave him life in this territory. When were you released? Just a few months ago. I'd got consumption, so they turned me out to die. Then I started figuring on how to find that money. Wouldn't Buck tell you where he hid it? He couldn't. Not with guards reading his letters and listening to our talk when I finally was able to visit him. Yeah, this is where the mug comes in. Ah, yes. Mug. Buck's cellmate was a trustee. Painted things on shaven mugs. Large emblems, cattle brands, animals, stuff like that. On visiting days, they let him sell the mugs outside the gates. Yeah, I've seen those convict stands. Yeah, one day I got in to see Buck. He told me that he had the trustee put a picture of our old homestead on a mug and asked me to buy it. He said the picture even showed the old red bull in a pasture lot. Then he winked. Then I savaged. Savaged what? That the picture told where the gold was. We never had a homestead. Gee, where is it? Before I could pick up that mug at the trustee's stand, some other visitor bought it, not knowing what he was getting. The next day, his old buck died. And who was this visitor? A drummer who traveled in these parts. I trailed him to this town. I think he's here now. Why did you come to meet him? I can't go on alone. I'm sick and broke. I hear that you were a square shooter. I figured if you'd run an ad for a mug with a red bull on it, saying it was a keepsake and offering a reward, it might turn up. Well, Pancho, I'll think about it. Well, mister, if we locate the money, it's all yours. A few thousand. All I want is the last fling. Won't be long now. Now, look, here's five dollars. Get yourself something to eat. And see you, doctor. Thanks, mister. I'll be back. You just get the mug. The old fraud. Don't you believe his story, Tom? Not at all, Dan. He probably tells it to the editor and every town he hits. Oh, well... Tom Carson, you gave him money you need for your rent. No, dear... Don't dear me. If you think I'll marry a fool like you... Now, don't cry, Hilda. I'll work for nothing to make up for that money. Anyhow, we'll find that gold. Then Tom can buy a big new press and a steam engine. Oh, Inky. If that's how you feel about Tom, I'll be with you. Hilda, we're rich right now, having a boy like him. Yes, Tom. I'm sorry I begrudged a gift to a dying man. Hey, Tom, I got news for you. Oh, it's the sheriff. Come in, sheriff. No time. Just got word the Bulldog Indians were to the ranch family about 50 miles down the Colorado. I'm right now. Howdy-o, sheriff. Hey, that's real news. I'll start setting type right away. We're lucky that old outlaw held up the press run. A little later, Dan was back with a lone ranger and tonto in a nearby mountain camp. He had told of the Indian raid, and as the men prepared to leave for the scene, repeated patch-denton story. Dan was saying... It all sounded true to me in spite of what Tom said. Tom seems to have had a lot of experience with beggars. Don't talk to Denton if he's still around when we return. Aren't you going to take me along? Oh, no, Dan. We don't know what lies ahead. Put up at the hotel. All right. I can help Inky at the print shop. Horses are ready. Come with me. Good enough. Easy, silly big fella. Easy, silly big fella. Come on, silly. Come on, scout. It was the following day when patch-denton stood at the lunch counter in Tige's place, which was a cafe located half a block from the newspaper office on the same side of the street. From within a glass partitioned office, two men watched Denton. One was Tige himself, the proprietor, and the other, a crooked gambler, called the deacon or the deek. Tige was scowling, as he asked. Deek, what put a smart gambler like you on the treasure hunt? Well, Tige, I was in the territorial pen working around the hospital when Buck Denton died. I heard him muttering about buried money in a shaven mug. A shaven mug? That's it. I thought so myself till I got out and found old patch that was traibousin' around, askin' questions. About what? A fellow who'd bought a mug at the pen. Patch wants it mighty bad. How could it tell him or else anything? By what's painted on it, of course. Eh, could be. My own barbershop mug has a tiger on it. I trail patched the newspaper office yesterday. What was he doin' there? Making a deal, I reckon. At least ways he's got money today. And we'll have to act faster or somebody'll beat us out. All right, deal me in. What's our play? We gotta make the old, old hoop talk. He's standing close to the cellar door. We can get him down there without anyone bein' the wiser. And let's do it. Well, boys, have you found the fabulous mug yet? Oh, gosh. I've looked at everything on the barbershop racks. They were horses galore, but no red bulls on any mug. Has Denton been in town? No, and I haven't seen him around town. But don't let that spoil your fun. I'd like to join you. Tom Carson, I do believe you would. Everybody likes the rummage around, honey. Uh, which reminds me, the lady's aide is holdin' a rummage sale down the street. Yes, Mrs. Fox was here collectin'. I gave her some stationery. Inky, suppose you and Dan gallop down there and see what else they've collected. I can guess. Dishes and doilies and all that. Now look, I want to write a story about what's bein' offered for sale. This is an assignment. An assignment? Oh, boy. Come on, Dan. You got everything down in your notebook? Of course, sure. Hey, look, here comes Mrs. Fox. The uppity-all credit. Yeah. How are you, young Jacknames, up to? We're reporters, ma'am. Reporters. Mr. Carson sent us here to find out what you had to sell. He's gonna print a piece about it. Well, that's very nice of him. Please note that Mrs. Fox has charged. It's noted, ma'am. Now have you young gentlemen seen everything? Oh, but what's in this box here? That horrible stuff. The sheriff sent it over. And believe me, I'll give him a piece of my mind for doing it. What sort of stuff is it? Well, he mentioned that much of it had been left by a drummer who was killed in a runaway a few months ago. But the rest of it... You were saying... The rest of it must have been left by criminals he hanged. Then you're not going to sell it? Mercy, no. You boys can have the whole box for taking it away. Oh, thanks, man. Grab a hold, Danny. In the meantime, Patch had fallen easy prey to the cafekeeper and gambler. He lay on the cellar floor of the cafe, barely conscious. Tig was shaking him. Come out of it, you bag of booms. Water. Water. Tell us what that mug looks like. Give me water. First tell us, what were you doing in the newspaper office? Answer me. It's no use, Deke. He's out again. This ain't getting us anywhere. We can't hurt him enough to make him talk without him passing out. What do we do now? We'll wait until after dark and dump him in the street. Then we'll watch every movie he makes. You might go to the sheriff. No, Denton never called the law. He'll keep after that mug till he tips his hand. It was after working hours that night when Dan and Inky opened the box from the rummage sale. Tom and his sweetheart had gone, leaving them to enjoy the thrill by themselves. And thrill it was, for as they delved into the contents, such amazing things as a pepper pot pistol with four barrels and a broken trigger, and a set of dominoes jail-made from beef ribs came to light. Inky squealed with delight. Poor gully. Here's a Joe Miller joke book, Dan. And here's a pearl-in-layed mouth. Look at this. A shaven outfit. What's on the mug? The mug? Well, I don't... This is it. The very one. You're right, Inky. There's the red ball and the scenery in the background. The drummer, Mrs. Fox, told the bot was the one who bought it. And he was killed. Gosh. Maybe there's a curse on it. Like there always is on pirate maps. Listen. I thought he heard a noise outside. What? It's the old outlaw. He's gonna fall and grab him. I got him. Steady old time. Let's get him into this chair. There you are, mister. Water. Water. Better close the door. Right. And get some water. Take it easy now. Get him some. Just take it easy. Here. Here. Just like this. Good. Inky. Good. You better run for a doctor. He's in bad shape. No, Doctor. Too late. I... I'm at the end of the trail. Brace up. We found the mug. Oh, look at it. See? The red ball. Boys. Watch out. Danger. 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. In the absence of the lone ranger and tonto, Dan Reed and his friend Inky had discovered a shaving mug bearing symbols which told the location of the Denton gang's treasure. Old Patch Denton was captured by the crooks and badly beaten. Dan and Inky were in the newspaper office when Old Patch came in barely conscious. Phantom with us had his gasping for breath. Hold his head up. Somebody helped him die. Look at the marks on his head. I see. All the lawmen are hunting Indians. Let's get Tom. Bring the mug and come on. This way, Dan. Stop you sprout. The mast. There's a holdup. Right. Now give us that mug. I got one of them. Let loose of me. Run, Inky. Save the mug. Help. Help. Hey, that printer's devil's getting away. Stop or I'll shoot. You'll pay if you hurt him. You better think of your own hide button. That little barman gave me the slip. We gotta get out of sight. But Ty, what about that kid you're holding? We'll shut him up in the cellar of my cafe. Now come on, sprout. I got use for you. A few minutes later, Inky had awakened Tom and Hilda and was back in the print shop with them. As the editor stood staring at the dead man in the chair, Hilda exclaimed, Don't stand there, Tom. Do something. Anything. What can I do with a sheriff and his men away? A rider's in the street. Take the headed here. Hilda, Inky, get back. Good morning, sir. Hello. Hey, sir, thanks for running. Stand right there. What about that gun we're friends? I'm asked, man. An engine, too. Maybe they got Dan. What do you mean? Where is Dan Reid? I'm his friend. Tell me what happened. Oh, mister, Dan and I found a shaven mug. Below Ranger quickly won the confidence of Inky. Then listened to the story of Patch Denton and the shaving mug. So I don't know where they took Dan, but here's the mug. Well, you trust me with it? Oh, yes. You're a thing. Here, take it. Let's rouse the town and start searching for Dan. That's a good idea. No. A big search would add to Dan's danger. Well, me think Pellers still got him here in town. That's palatable. The time of Dan's capture, we were approaching town from the mountains. We noticed nothing suspicious. Only the sheriff wasn't chasing Indians. Renicades all captured, but sheriff not come back for a couple of days. We'll handle this our own way. While Tunner watches inside the town, I'll scout the trails leading out. What about the rest of us? Wait here for word from the abductors. Maybe... You'll hear from them. They want this mug. Inky, stop the press. I can't print advertising stickers at a time like this. Gosh, I wish I'd busted that mug. Another night's coming on and we still haven't heard from those crooks. Wonder where the masked man is. Hey, Inky. Gosh, you came in quietly. You heard what we... Yes, Tom, but there's still time for a letter. Hilda's waiting in the post office. Did you find anything? Nothing on the trails, but I discovered what the picture on the mug means. You did? Who cares about that gold with Dan gone? Well spoken, Inky. I only hope to use what I know against the crooks who captured Dan. I thought that puzzler would be hard to solve. No, it's simple. So simple that it's deceptive. Without knowing that it has a hidden meaning, no one looking at it would notice anything unusual. Here, look. All I see is a red bull standing against a typical western background. I see three mountains and a creek that flows down from them to where the bull stands. These horns point to out of cabin. The red bull means the Colorado River. Of course. Knowing that, it's easy to see that the three mountains are the peaks known as the Three Angels. And the creek that flows from them to the red bull is Scorpion Creek. And the gold is buried in a cabin only a few miles away. So it appears... If those crooks get the mug, they may learn the secret, too. See, we could fix up a substitute mug. No, don't try it. Those fellows were outside when the old outlaw died. They must have heard Dan and me talking about the picture. Yeah, I think he's right. Tom, here's a letter for you. It's postmark Modak City. And sign Dan Reed. Take it, Mr. That's Dan's writing. He says that he's being treated all right and will be released when the men who hold him receive the mug. How are we to get it to him? They want you to take it and walk alone along the south side of Main Street at two o'clock tomorrow morning. They certainly don't expect to meet me on the street. Take the mug and calmly walk right away. That's how the instructions read. There won't be much moonlight at that hour. We can have men posted all around to trail or stop them. They're not taking that chance. Then what's their dodge? Tom, I've looked down on Modak City from the mountains and it appears it's a one-street town. Yeah, all the buildings are about the same height. There's a solid row of them along each side of the street for a half a mile. And they all have flat roofs. That's right. A man could walk along the roofs from one end of the town to the other. Yeah. Is it possible to enter any one of the buildings from the roof? Sure thing. Every building has a flight of stairs or a ladder that leads up to a trapdoor on the roof. I see. Yeah, but why are you asking these questions? I think I know how those abductors plan to get the mug. Well, I don't. And another thing I can't see is how they're released to him without running the risk of being identified later. We have only the word of men who have already committed one murder that he'll be released. Tom, they'll kill you too if you go out with that mug. I'll take it to them. But tell me one more. First, uh, first let me look at one of those stickers you've been running through your press. Well, here's one, missy. It'll stick on anything after it's wet. Can you ink out all the white on it so it won't show in the dark? Oh, sure. I'll get my ruler right now. Fix up a big bunch of them. Now, those stickers. This is what we'll do. As the masked man outlined his plan, Dan sat on the sandy floor of the cafe cellar, his back to the wall, his hands and feet tied, Dick squatted on the bottom step of the stairs with a lantern. He was saying, it's no use looking at me, kid. Why not? Because you won't be seeing me again tonight. In fact, you won't be seeing anyone ever again. Told me you'd let me go when I wrote that letter. You know too much. You know we killed old Denton. Killing me won't help you. He'll have more than the law to beat. Well, Tig, it's about time. Everything's working out fine. Did the letter go through? What's that you brought down with you? A spade and a pick. It's way after midnight now. Aren't you going to help me dig? Oh, I got a scout around up above. Ah, you put all the work onto me. You won't take a very big hold for the kid. As the hour for the delivery of the mug approached, a hatch in the roof of Tig's cafe opened noiselessly. Dick emerged, a darker shadow against the dark sky. He called in a low voice. Hey, Tig. Where are you? Right here. You got your boots off? Sure. All right, then follow me. Where are we going? Go to the roof of the stage station. Have you looked things over good up here? Good enough to know that there's no one to plan it to see where we go. Then the editor didn't figure out our game. How are things in the cellar? I let the kid as he was. The hole's done. This is the station roof. We wait here where we can see down. At exactly two o'clock in the morning, the lone ranger stepped out of the newspaper office. Turning, he followed a boardwalk along the south side of the dark and deserted street. By pre-arrangement, Tonto kept pace with him on the opposite walk, a gun in one hand, a lariat in the other. The masked man passed a gunsmith's shop, an ocean store, and a long line of cafes and dance halls. But nothing moved in the shadows, and the only sound that came to his ears was the measured click of his own boot heels. He reached the stage station, and then from above, a voice knife-sharp sliced at him. Hold it. You down there, you're covered. We're letting down the line to you. Tie the mug to it. You found the line? Yes. The mug is tied fast. You stand still and we see whether it's the right one. I got it up. All right, up down. Strike a match. There. I can see the red bull. This is it. Thanks, Mr. Editor. Now put this in your paper. It looks like you got him. Come on, let's get below. You hit Kimmel's hobby? No, I expected those shots. Which way'd they go? Over-roofs. East? Rope one of those roof beams that stick through the wall. Then he catch it and rope fast. Then up we go. Hand over hand. Take a look at it before we plug you. You cowards. Cowards, are we? You wait till I reload this six-shooter. Keep your hand frozen. Look deep there on the stair. Shoot him, my gun's still in. Oh, my arm, he broke it. You keep back or I'll get this kid. You don't dare. Look at your partner. Jumping tunnel? Any color you lose, Dan. Then fellas hurt you. No, no, but you came just in time. Call over, folks. You can come down. Who's coming, Tom? A lot of other citizens who helped me smash the street door. We heard the shots. Here's Dan. Are you all right? Sure, Inky. The mug got smashed in the fight. Look at it. Now nobody'll ever find the money. You're wrong again, Cook. We know what that picture means. What? If you know so much, tell me this. There was a trap door in the roof of every building. How did the masked man know which one of the buildings we entered? We sealed all the trap doors with stickers just after dark. The sticker on the hatch of this building was broken. That's how we knew which building you entered. Now, Tom, I'm turning these prisoners over to you. They won't get away, mister. But what about the treasure? You know where it is or was. And I know that if you find it, you'll put it to good use. You hear that, Hilda? We can be married and give Inky a real home. You can have a steam-driven press. And feed tramps to your heart's content, Don. Goodbye, all. Maybe I'll see you again. Bye, Dan. All right, Dan. Does anyone know who that masked man is? Oh, sure. Dan told me. He's the Lone Ranger. The Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created and produced by George W. Trendle, directed by Charles D. Livingston, and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer.