 In a moment you'll hear James Stewart as the six-shooter here on NBC. Later this evening listen to the NBC Star Playhouse with one of your favorite stars. Here meet the press, America's number one newsmaking program. Listen to the new Sunday at home and be sure to keep tuned for the dramatic story of communism in America on Last Man Out. It's a wonderful lineup of great programs, all of them heard only on NBC. James Stewart as the six-shooter. The man in the saddle is angular and long-legged. His skin is sun-died brown. The gun in his holster is grey steel and rainbow mother of pearl. Its handle unmarked. People call them both the six-shooter. The NBC radio network presents James Stewart as the six-shooter. The transcribed series of radio dramas based on the life of Britt Ponsett, the Texas planesman who wandered through the western territories, leaving behind a trail of still-remembered legends. The twilight wind carried the sound of the train toward the two figures who waited hidden in a clump of maple trees. The sandy-haired man, not at a blue bandana at the back of his neck and pulled it over his face, he mounted his horse and gestured to his companion. The other man fitted a soiled handkerchief across his mouth and climbed into the saddle. Touch of spurs sent the horses forward. The train was crawling up a steep grade now and the riders guided their mounts alongside the slowly moving cars. And then they lifted their boots out of their stirrups and swung themselves up onto a small platform behind the tender flicker of lamp light glinted on their revolvers as they opened the door to a passenger coach and stepped inside. For several minutes, the riderless horses continued to pace the clattering wheels. Two men pitched off the platform and rolled down the slope of a barren ravine. In response to the whistle, the horses trotted up to him. That was deep. And all the noise the train was making, he couldn't understand what they wanted. Yeah, I know. He couldn't understand a word. He tried to make out what they were saying, but he couldn't. And when he didn't hand it over... We'll get him, Mrs. Davis. Don't you worry about that. The posse's meeting here. We'll start out tonight and we won't be back until we get him. That won't do Carl much good. Well, at least we'll make sure they don't kill nobody else in cold blood. If only I hadn't had to give him that belt, if I just hadn't had to give it to him. Belt? It was my anniversary present to Carl. We were married 25 years last week. That's why we wasn't taking the train trip over to Cheyenne. And that's why I give him the belt. The bucket was sort of silver-like. What did that have to do with... It was the belt they wanted, but Carl didn't understand when they asked him. He'd already handed over his money and his watch. And then one of them noticed the belt and he said, That bucket was silver, ain't it? Give it to me. Carl couldn't make out what he was talking about. And that's all I got. Real mad. And he jabbed a gun into Carl's side. And he pulled the trigger without even giving Carl a chance to... Easy now, Mrs. Davis. Even though Carl was dying, that outlaw took the belt off him anyway. It wasn't a silver buckle, Sheriff. It just looked like silver, but it wasn't the real thing. I sure must have been sleeping sound or I'd have hurt him right up. Of course, they've probably been as quiet as they could under the circumstances, but I usually wake up when I'm out in the range and somebody's prowling around my neighborhood. I heard him. He let me know. What's the matter, boy? It still wasn't done, but there was enough light so that I could see the barrel of a .45 and a firm-mouthed fellow standing over me, pointing the gun at my head. Howdy. What's your name, Mr. And what are you doing out here? Well, I was sleeping. Don't get funny. We want straight answers. We want them quick. Two of you, huh? At least two. We're waiting, Mr. My name's Ponsett. Britt Ponsett. That's right. And as for what I'm doing out here, well, this is a free range. A man's got to ride the crossover and stop off once in a while to take a snooze. If you take the mind to it. You trying to claim you're the six-shooter? I'm not claiming anything. You asked my name, I told you. How do we know you're lying? How do we know it's who you are? I guess you don't. Unless you want to take my word for it. Let's see your gun, Mr. How's that? I've heard folks tell about the gun Britt Ponsett carries. Oh. No, don't touch it. I can see it plain enough. What do you think, kid? I guess he's Ponsett, all right. At least ways that six-shooter sure fits the description. Oh. Besides, it didn't seem very likely he'd be one of the fellas we're looking for. Huh? Well, there's two of them and he's out here all alone. Of course, they could have split up, but fellas in the run ain't have to do that. That's right. Well, uh, we're, uh, sorry if we woke you. Mm-hmm. I was getting up time anyway. Just, uh, just who is it you boys are looking for? Couple of outlaws held up the Cheyenne train last night about four miles east of Blackledge. Oh, is that so? Yeah, it was some shooting, too. One of the passengers. Well, we're out hunting the bandits. And my name's Kit Springer. This is my brother, Lex. Oh, yeah. Pleased to meet you. You fellas all along? Oh, no, no, there's a posse. A little way back, Sheriff's leading him. But he thinks the robbers headed for Patch Canyon, so he's taking the posse there. We don't see it that way. You don't, huh? We figure them outlaws will try to get through Miller Pass. They can make it, they'll be in the clear. Wow, that sounds reasonable. You, uh, ain't seen nobody tonight? No, no, I can't say I have. I reckon we figured wrong that they'd have to come by here on their way to the pass. This is the only trail in. Yeah, that's right. But not saying them doesn't guarantee they weren't around. The way I was saw on wood, they could have stumbled right over my bedroll without me knowing. Well, I guess even if our hunch was right, we couldn't find them now. Why is that? We don't know the route from here on. We ain't never been through the pass ourselves. See, you ain't traveling in that direction by any chance. Mmm, yeah, yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. I'm riding over to the Jefferson Ranch on the South Slope. Well, that's great. Looks like we struck it lucky for one's legs. What do you mean, kid? Well, maybe Ponsett wouldn't mind us riding along with him. Seeing as how he knows the way, and if we did run into them bandits, it'd be three of us to take care of him. Well, I'd be mighty glad to have some company, but it seems to me like you're letting yourselves in for a pretty long trip, just on a hunch. It's over a day from here through the pass, and there's no certainty the fellas you're after have even taken this trail, you know? I guess we can spare the time. There's a $1,500 reward being offered. $1,500? Oh, wow. The posse does catch him. The money will be split 40 ways to breakfast. We won't be losing out on much. But if we run into them ourselves, well, you see what I mean. Sure. That is, if you ain't got no objections. No. No, no. Like I said, I'd welcome a little company. I'll fix us some chow. We already had breakfast. Yeah. Well, how about a cup of coffee, anyway? Well, that's mighty kind of you, but maybe we ought to get started and face them outlaws did get past you during the night. We wouldn't want them to pile up too much of a lead on us. We could stop for food later. You boys sure are anxious. $1,500 is a lot of money. Well, that's true enough. Oh, God. I guess I can hold off a couple hours. Get the horses, Link. Yeah, sure. Can I give you a hand with that bed roll? No, no. Yes, sir. It was real lucky I was bumping into you. How's that? I mean, you know, in this trail and all. Otherwise, we'd have had to turn back. You fellas may be off on a wild goose chase, you know. No, no, I just don't think so. Somehow, I've got the dog-gondest feeling we're headed right. Well, as soon as I get scars saddled up, we'll start finding out. Easy, boy. Easy, now. It wasn't much of a trail. Just a little rocky path that hugged the side of the mountain and wound around tighter and tighter like a string on a top. It was hard riding, too. Every now and then, we'd come to a horseshoe turn and the horses had to cut so sharp they pulled the back legs in under their bellies and left us sort of hanging out over the ledge, looking down at an awful lot of air. Easy, easy, easy, easy. I got a hand at the Springer Brothers, you know. They didn't complain. I'd taken this route before, so I knew what to expect. It was all new to them. After three or four of these loops, though, they did start dabbing their foreheads with their haggages, but neither one of them said anything about turning back. And to tell you the truth, I was doing a little sweating myself. That's a pretty steep trail, isn't it? Yeah, yeah. Now, these horses are getting tired. Maybe we ought to rest a spell next wide space we come to. They can keep going for a while yet. Well, maybe they can. I'm getting tired myself. He's right. We can't risk a stumble not up here. Okay, okay. It looks like we're coming to a good spot up here. Yeah. Oh, oh, sorry. Oh, afraid you boys are going to be disappointed. Huh? About that $1,500. There haven't been any fresh tracks along the trail. These boys, I haven't seen any. I was so busy riding I didn't have time to do much looking. Well, if somebody was just ahead of us, you'd think we'd spot a sign of them here and there. Maybe somehow we got to hit them. Well, in that case, there wouldn't be much point you fellas going on, would there? We've come this far. We might as well go the rest of the way. All right, it's up to you. Sure is hot. Yeah. Yeah, I reckon I won't be wanting that coffee after all. I'll tell you one thing. I'm getting rid of this jacket. That's a good idea. Yeah. I'd say that belt there, that mighty fancy belt you're wearing there, kid. Huh? I don't think I've ever seen a buckle like that before. Silver, isn't it? Yeah. Yeah, it's silver. Yeah, it's real pretty. Too bad you got it all spotted up like that. Spotted? Yeah, that sort of bludge you got on there. Oh. Why, I cut my hand the other day. It must have been when it happened. I didn't realize I'd smid up my belt, though. It's all garnished. Probably have a heck of a time getting a leather clean again. Yeah. Yeah, blood stains are out to be sort of permanent. Yeah. Oh. It's a shame I can belt like that. We'll return to James Stewart as the six-shooter in just a moment. Someday, science will find a cure for infantile paralysis. But it takes research. And this year, your March of Dimes is forcing a showdown with this terrible disease. It's testing a highly promising vaccine in the hope of proving this year that it can stop polio from crippling your child. Now, you can give these crucial tests which are costing extra millions of dollars an extra chance to succeed. Your help in paying the extra millions for polio prevention is urgently needed. Join the 1954 March of Dimes. Send your dimes and dollars to your local March of Dimes headquarters this week. Act two of the six-shooter starring James Stewart as Britt Ponsett. As soon as the horses were rested, we start off again. But the higher we got, the harder it was for the animals to keep moving. The air was thinner now. You'd notice it every time you took in a gulp. And the trail seemed even fainter than before. A couple of times we missed it completely and just went off on a tangent. Then we had to swing around and try to pick up where we'd gone wrong. I'll never catch up with him at this rate. No, I wouldn't worry about a kit. What do you mean? I still haven't seen any phrase tracks. Looks to me like nobody's been through here since last rain. You'd keep your eyes on the trail instead of looking for horses, you marks we might not get lost so often. I told you, boy, you're letting yourselves in for some. Yeah, yeah, you told us. Oh, come on, come on, let's see if we can make up some time. I sure couldn't help notice that the longer we rode, the less friendly Kit Springer got. I sort of put it down to the fact that he must have been sort of worn out. We weren't taking any pleasure job, that was for sure. I couldn't blame him for being a little down for now. But there was one thing that sort of troubled me about this fella. Something he said kept pecking at the back of my brain. I shifted around and glanced back over my shoulder. Kit had one hand on the saddle horn and the other was gripping the reins. The cut must have been all healed up by now. At least he didn't seem to have any trouble with it. And a cut deep enough to spot his belt that way, it must have taken several days to get well. Funny, he'd never noticed the blood on his belt before I mentioned it to him. Well, one thing was certain, Kit Springer sure couldn't be much of a dude. The sun finally went down and we made camp for the night. We managed to find a pretty good sized level spot right above the trail. He likes to build a fire and I cooked up a mess of beans and some pan bread. Kit didn't seem to be very hungry though. I don't know, it'll be coming up pretty soon. Oh, another hour or so. I think it'll give off much light. Oh, some, I guess. Not enough to see by, huh? To see what? Well, you said we were almost through the past, didn't you? Ah, we've got a couple of three more miles. Why do we have to stop here then? The horses can feel their way. Just simmer down, Kit. Just simmer down. It's plain enough we're not going to run into those fellas you're after. They're either out of the past now or what's more likely they never took this trail in the first place. That posse is probably captured them hours ago. More coffee, Lex? Yeah, thanks. Kit? No, no, I've had enough. And there's a town on the other side of the pass, ain't there? Yeah, English Creek. Just a little bird. Spending the night there would be a whole lot better than sitting out here. You got a bath and a shave, change of clothing. You wouldn't want to risk your neck on the trail just for a bath, would you? I guess not. But I ain't very comfortable wearing the same britches and shirt day after day. That's all right. I didn't figure you for the particular type. Well, you figured wrong, Mr. Fawcett. Kit's a real fancy man. Oh, that's all right. Yeah, you ought to see him on Saturday night when he starts off for town. Looks like a real riverboat gambler. That's what he looks like. Well, there's nothing to matter with a man just because he tries to keep himself presentable, is there? No, no, nothing at all. That can remind us, well, turn in. All right, you fellas go ahead. I'll back the fire. You know, it's funny you never used this trail before. What's so funny about it? Well, seeing as how you live in Black Legs. We never said we lived there. No, no, I guess you didn't. Come to think of it. Well, since you were a part of Sheriff's Posse, I sort of jumped at the conclusion. We were just passing through on a way to Beaver Junction. We heard about the train robberies. It seemed like the sheriff needed all the help he could get, so we volunteered. Not to mention the reward, of course. Not to mention the reward. By the way, who is the sheriff of Black Legs now? What difference does it make? Well, I'm just curious, that's all. I don't remember his name. It wasn't time for any formal introductions. Folks just call him Sheriff. Oh, I see. Big folly, is he? With a mustache? Look, Ponce, you were the one who was so all fired determined on us stopping for some shut-eye. So how about settling down? Sure, sure. Night? I rolled up my blanket and I turned my face toward the fire. I don't know. As far as I could tell, the Springer boys hadn't been lying to me. A man could join up with a Posse and not find out the sheriff's name. And I guess a man could write himself half to death on an off chance of earning him a $1,500 reward. If he had a mind to do it. Of course, it hadn't worked out. Kits hunched on the train rubbers and were using those paths. It just hadn't worked out. But I'd played plenty of wild hunches myself. And so I... But then I dropped off to sleep. The last thing I remember is here in my mind say, maybe you're wrong, Ponce. Maybe those outlaws are using the paths after all. It just kept echoing through my head. Maybe you're wrong, Ponce. One must have been six, seven hours later when I... At first I wasn't sure what it was that woke me up. One of the horses, maybe. I started to drift off again. Lacks. Lacks? What's the matter? It's almost dawn. You gotta stop moving. What about Ponce? He'll wake. I don't think so. Britt? Britt? I don't know what it was that kept me from answering back. But I just laid there, hardly breathing, not moving, not even opening my eyes. He's still asleep. Yeah. We ain't gonna need him the rest of the way, Lacks. That's what I figured. Trouble is he knows our names while we look like him. Sooner or later he'd put two and two together. You didn't have to tell him who we was. I knew it would make no difference one way or the other. You. You gotta shoot him, kid. Nope. You are. Me? Yeah. I'm already wanted for a couple of killings, Lacks. But they're only after you for robbery. Even though you're my brother, if they're going to get too rough someday, you might want to ease out of the apartment. Did you know better than that, kid? I don't know it for sure. After you kill Ponce. Well? Kid, kid. Whatever you say. I'll get the horses. Hurry it up. I heard kid move off across the clarion. In a minute, that's all I heard. Then Lacks started moving too. I lifted my eyelids just a hair and I saw him through the lashes. He pulled his revolver out of the holster. My gun belt was lying right beside me and I inched my left hand toward it real slow so he wouldn't notice. I felt the fingers slide across a couple of stones but the gun was still a little space beyond. I hadn't touched it yet. Lacks was standing right over me now. I wasn't going to have much more time. If I didn't get a grip on that gun the next second or two, I'd spun over as he fired but the bullet had served my shoulder and dug into my chest. My right hand jerked up and I let fire. At first I thought I'd missed him. I saw his fingers start to squeeze off another shot but he never finished pulling the trigger. His whole body was shaken like an aspen tree and he just tilted forward. I slid out of the way as he fell. I hadn't had time to feel the pain before now but it started tearing through me so bad I almost let out a yell. One shot would have been enough to... Lacks! Just hold it there, Kat. What? It seemed you were right about the train band that's using this trail to... to... the words... wouldn't come out. And everything started burning in front of my eyes and I could barely keep them dropping my gun. It was getting light now. You could see how bad it was shot. He whipped his revolver up from his side. The sound kind of jerked me back to my senses and I managed to pull the trigger. I knew my aim wouldn't be so good but it was good enough to send Kit and dive him back up and rock for cover. And there was pre-stumped not more than a couple of feet away and I managed to roll myself behind it. I know you're hurt, Clancy. You can't hold out much longer. I sure wasn't in any way to argue with him. If I... If I could just get off a couple of more shots, maybe... Maybe he'd think twice before it, but... I... That... That couldn't be Kit's right. I pushed him a channel to the edge of the stump. What is it? Were there horses coming up the trail from the same direction we'd come? And for a minute I couldn't think over it and I remembered the posse. They'd been following us all the time and that's why Kit was so anxious to stay on the move. And that's the Sheriff's Springer. I wouldn't plan on going much farther. I could see him. I knew he was calling his horse. There was only one way back trail. He had to ride past me in the open and I'd prop myself up against the side of his stump and I shifted my gun to my left hand and for a minute I thought the trigger was stuck and then I... And he's coming too, Sheriff. Yeah, good, good. How you feeling, Brad? What? Dog? Well, doggies don't know you. What the Sam hell are you doing out here? Well, there's no law saying a doctor can't go along with a posse, is there? Oh, no. Well, for my sake, it's a good thing you did. Well, what about... What about Kit Springer? Did you... Did you catch up with him, Sheriff? He gave just the trouble, Britt. Well, I couldn't have done that. He must have gone away. That last shot of mine was a mile wide. Well, maybe you didn't exactly hit him, but you sure scared the daylights out of his horse. What? Yeah, we saw the whole thing from down below. Springer was just turning out of the trail. When you fired his horse reared and started slipping over the edge. Springer tried to jump clear, but he just couldn't seem to tie himself loose from that saddle. Yeah, it was the weirdest thing, Britt. When we finally found him, he just jumped right into that saddle. Yeah. Yeah, the belt he was wearing had got caught onto the horn somehow. That must have been what drugged him along when his horse fell. Oh, yeah. I... I never heard of a man's belt hooking onto the saddle horn before. Neither did I. But that's what happened, all right. Yeah. Well, how about it, Britt? You gonna be able to ride on into English Creek after I finish banaging you up? Yeah. Do my best, Doc. This six-shooter is a transcribed NBC radio network production in association with review productions. It is based on a character created by Frank Bird and is written by him. Mr. Stewart may soon be seen in the Universal International Picture The Glenn Miller Story. Others in the cast were Eleanor Audley, Forrest Lewis, Bill Conrad, Joel Cranston, and Frank Gerstle. Special music for this program was by Basil Adlam, and the entire production is under the direction of Jack Johnstone. All characters and incidents were fictitious, and any resemblance to actual characters or incidents is purely coincidental. This is Hal Giffney. Spend 30 minutes with Sunday at Home next on the NBC Radio Network.