 a fiery horse with a speed of light, the cloud of dust, and a hardy high old silver, the Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the masked rider of the planes led the fight for law and order in the early western 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. Typical of the settlements, which sprang in the wake of America's march westward, Prairie City was a lusty, fast-growing boom town whose latest achievements included a bank, a new schoolhouse, and a newspaper, the Prairie City Chronicle. In the ink-stained office of the Chronicle, John Denby, proprietor and his pretty daughter, Mary, quietly celebrated the success of their paper's first year. Prairie City Chronicle, one year old today. Oh, Dad, it looks lovely. One year old. Seems like only yesterday that we printed the first issue, doesn't it, Mary? Yes. Have you been happy here, Dad? Happier than I ever thought I could be after... well, after what happened back east, Mary. Don't think about it, Dad. The west has a future, Mary. It's young, strong, ambitious. Someday this town will be a city, pushing out over the plain farther than your eye can see. When it does, I'd like to be able to say the Chronicle had a hand in making it grow. Yes, Mary, I'm happy here, but I can't help having a feeling... What, Dad? Well, it folks around here will find out my name is John Blake instead of Denby, that I'm wanted by the government for making conifit money in east. Oh, Dad, how could they? I don't know, Mary, but... Besides, it wasn't your fault. Orman King forced you to engrave those conifit plates. The law doesn't know that, Mary, and I can't prove it. It's preyed on my conscience so every time I see Sheriff Bartlett, I'm tempted to tell him who I really am. Oh, no. It'll all work out in time, Dad. I know it will. Promise you won't say a word to the sheriff. All right, Mary, I promise. Now, let's sit down to that turkey. We're here than a starved screech owl. Oh, Shaw, I'll go, Dad. You carve the turkey. No, May I? Why, it's Mary, isn't it? You know it. It can't be. Grown Mary. Very pretty, too. What do you want? Who is it, Mary? It's me, Blake. Orman King. Yes. Never expected to see me again after you skipped out on that last job. I admit I've had a time trailing you, especially after you assumed the name Denby. But you should have known I'd turn up again someday. Bad pennies always do. Or should I say bad bank notes, huh, Blake? I can't believe it. You seem to be celebrating something. Turkey, plum pudding? Can it be that you anticipated my arrival? Or did you come here, King? That last batch of phony paper money you made for me got too hot to handle in the east. So I decided to take Horace Greeley's advice and go west. Get two things straight at the start, King. Folks here know me as John Denby. You've made my real name John Blake a hunted criminal thing which I dare not use again. Very well. It's Denby from now on. And second, I'm through engraving plates to make bogus bank notes for you to pass on innocent people. Dad, what's the matter? I'm all right, Mary. You shouldn't excite yourself so, Denby. You'll overtax your heart. As it happens, asking you to engrave counterfeit plates never entered my thoughts. What do you want of me, then? I want your press, Denby. Press? Press in which you print your newspaper. I'm sure you'll understand when you see these. Counterfeit plates. That's right, Denby. You engrave them yourself back east. Remember? See, here's one to make $100 notes, another to make $50. You mean you're going to print counterfeit paper money from those plates on my press? You're going to print it, Denby. I'm going to pass it. But I can't... Paper money is new to the West. It'll be easy to fool people here with the bank notes you print and exchange them for silver and gold. You won't get away with it, King. Someone will spot a notice counterfeit and they'll trace it to you. You forget that I'm an accomplished actor, Denby, with a talent for disguise. I'll be exchanging other paper notes, masquerading as someone else. Don't let him do it, Dad. Freddy has no choice, Mary. Your father's already wanted by the government for making counterfeit money. If he refuses to cooperate, I shall be forced to reveal his whereabouts and his assumed name to the federal agents. He's right, Mary. I have no choice. Dad, you can't. If that worthless paper money is circulated in Prairie City, a lot of innocent people will lose their savings. It'll give the town a black eye from which it may never recover. I know that, Mary. A while ago I dreamed of helping Prairie City grow. Now I'm forced to do everything I can to hold it back. I guess it just wasn't in the cards, Mary. Now you're being sensible, Denby. Sit down at the table, Mary. We'll celebrate our new partnership. You know, uh... Turkey is my favorite dish. A week after Orman King's arrival in Prairie City, a man wearing a suit that was obviously too small for him and carrying a battered old satchel entered the city bank and walked up to a teller's window. He looked and spoke like a foreigner. I want to change this bank note to silver money. Hmm. $100. That's a lot of money to be carrying around, stranger. They bring it with me all the way from New York. It'd been safer than carrying silver, huh? We don't see much of this here, folding money out west. Wait here till I get permission to cash it, will you? Yeah, sure. Come in. Sorry to disturb your banker homes, but there's a man outside who wants to change this here bank note for hard cash, gold and silver. $100 note, eh? What kind of looking fella is he? Well, he's a friend. Hmm. Looks genuine enough. Them conifers we've been warned against are so slick he can't be too careful. Yes, you're right, banker homes. There's a government circular I received just the other day about a conifering named Orman King. He used to be an actor and was clever at wearing disguise. You think I better cash this here note? Yeah, I guess it won't do any harm. But write down a description of this foreigner. Keep track of him. Never can tell. We might need it. I'll do that. And when you're through, report back here. I'm going to write a letter to James Baird, the federal agent at the county seat who's been sending us them circulars about conifers. I'm going to invite Baird to come to Prairie City and examine this here bank note. I want you to post a letter. Be back in a minute, banker homes. And I'm sorry to keep you waiting, stranger. That note of yours is the first paper money we've seen in this town for some time. Here's your hundred. Hard cash. Thank you, master. By Yimini, I bite me store of it this adventure. Now don't let anybody shortchange you, stranger. It won't. Hey, see you again, y'all. Come in anytime. The only new adhesive on has been shortchains. Cool $100. And by Orman King. A few days later, a lone horseman picked his way along a rocky ravine that led to Prairie City. He was James Baird, the federal agent banker homes at Sampor. Careful, Malrex. I want you breaking a leg on one of these rocks. It's as treacherous a trail as I've seen. Suddenly, from behind a boulder, a stranger appeared. He wore a suit that was obviously too small for him and carried a battered old satchel. Morning, master. Your name been James Baird, y'all. Oh, Oh, Orex. Yes, that's me. Who are you? I got message for you from banker homes. Banker homes, huh? What is it? This. You say that's a gun. Who are you anyway? That's something you'll ever know, Baird. Well, I don't understand. A minute ago, you talked like a foreigner. You aren't the first to be fooled by my disguise, Baird. Now, climb off that horse. This is your idea of a practical joke. No joke, Baird. Get out of those clothes. What? I'm changing clothes with you, Baird. You'll pay for this, mister. Disarming the federal agent, Orman King forced Baird to trade clothes with him. After the change had been made, Baird continued to protest. I don't know what's behind these shenanigans, stranger, but I warned you. You're coming very tiresome, Baird. Let me see how you look. Well, splendid. You look more like that foreigner I was impersonating than I did myself. But what's this all about? A touch of makeup added to these clothes of yours I'm wearing. I shouldn't have any difficulty at all in impersonating James Baird. Indeed, I doubt anyone will ever know the difference. What do you mean? As the shot reverberated through the rocky ravine, a white stallion pricked up his ears, and his rider, a tall man wearing a white hat and a black mask, rained him in abruptly. That was a gunshot, Tunnel. Guiding their horses through the treacherous ravine, the masked rider and his faithful Indian friend soon started the target for the shot they had heard. It was the body of a man lying face down the dusty trail. Beside the body was a battered old satchel. We're too late, Tunnel. Ah, him dead. Judging by his clothes, he looks like a foreigner. He must have been what this? The satchel, Tunnel. Easterners use them on business trips. It doesn't seem to be anything in this one. A man with gun, maybe Rob Forner. It's possible, Tunnel. Wait, there's a wallet on the trail. Stamped with initials. Initials JD. I wonder. Help me with this, fellow, Tunnel. Look at the belt buckle he's wearing. Initials checked. Now, the initials on the belt are okay. Him not same man? No. And if the dead man isn't the owner of the wallet, the killer must be. Ah, him maybe drop wallet, not no. Ah, Kimusabi. What is it, Tunnel? Me open wallet. Find much money. Yes. Three $100 banknotes. It's a lot of money for a murderer to be. Wait, Tunnel. This money is counterfeit. What? Counterfeit. Bogus, worthless. This paper money has been cleverly fake to resemble real currency. And fool innocent people. Ah, how you know? It isn't always easy, Tunnel. The main point to remember is that the workmanship is inferior to that of real money. I look here. Ah. See how smudgy the borders of this bill are. Ah. How blurred and broken are the lines in the portrait. In real money, the lines are clear and firm. Ah, Tunnel, savvy. I've heard that counterfeiters were operating near here. I didn't know they'd come this far west. You think the murderer is a counterfeiter too. His initials are JD. Come on, Tunnel, we've worked to do. Ah, you wait, Kimosabi. What is it, Kimosabi? Ah, footprints, murderer make before him shoot. Not same footprints in making getaway. You're right. The murderer left shoe prints when he approached this spot. When he left, he was wearing boots. That means that... The murderer changed clothes with dead man. Make believe him, victim. Right, Tunnel. His tracks are headed for Prairie City. Yes, a little bit. Help me lift the body across Silver Saddle Town. Oh, we'll be off. Give me help. Easy. All right, big fella. Get him up, Count. Get him up, come on, Silver. 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. I'll continue our story. Leaving the dead man at a deserted ranch, the Lone Ranger and Tunnel entered the outskirts of Prairie City and slowed their hard-ridden horses to a walk. What we do now? If we only knew the identity of the man we found murdered on the trail, Tunnel. As it stands, all we know is that the murderer is a counterfeiter. Any source here can give us a lead on the man we're looking for. It's a city bank. Let's go. In the private office of banker Holmes, a stranger identified himself as James Baird, the federal agent Holmes had sent for. Your credentials seem in proper order, Baird. Thank you, banker Holmes. Now, if you let me see that note you asked me to examine. Here it is. $100 bill. We don't often receive this here paper money at the bank. And after them circuiters you sent out, I was a might worried for fear this note wasn't genuine. Naturally. You needn't worry about this note, however. It's quite genuine. You're sure? Certainly. Counterfeit money is my business. Yeah. That's right, ain't it? Just put this note away for safekeeping. If you've nothing more to show me, I'll go along. But I'll be in Prairie City for a few days if you wish me to examine any more bank notes. I hear paper money's becoming popular in the West. So I shouldn't be surprised if more of it turned up at your bank while I'm in town. Come in. Sorry to bother you, banker Holmes, but there's a masked man here who says he wants to see you. A masked man? Yeah, he says he's got an important business with you. Oh, I don't want to... Banker Holmes, I'd like to talk to you. You can't... I'll see you here. Who do you think you are? Shall I throw him out, boss? I wouldn't advise you to try it, my friend. Close the door. Sure, sure, stranger. Banker Holmes, have any bank notes similar to these come to your attention recently? Three $100 bills. Yes. Oh, yes, stranger. Got one just the other day. Looked just like these. A foreigner brought it in. Did you say a foreigner? Yeah, wait a minute. Got a description of him in this drawer. One of my clerks write it out. Here it is. Does it describe this man as about six feet tall, dark hair, dressed in a suit that's too small for him and carrying an old satchel? Yeah. Say, how did you know? My friend and I found a man answering that description on the trail. He was shot. Shot? Uh, have you any idea who did it? This gentleman's a federal agent, James Baird. I sent for him to come from the county seat and examine the foreigner's note. The county seat, huh? That's at the other end of the trail. Been in town long, Baird? About an hour. Why? I merely wondered if you'd had time to examine Bankerholm's note. Of course. It's genuine. Oh, I see. What's your opinion of these three bills? Well, uh... Yes, they seem to be genuine, too. Sorry to call you a shot, Baird. These bills are counterfeit. Counterfeit? Then the note the ferner brought must be counterfeit, too. Probably. I found these bogus bills in a wallet near the place where the foreigner was shot. What kind of a counterfeit expert do you call yourself, Baird? You told me the ferner's note was real. It is real. Are you going to take the word of a masked man against mine? He may be the counterfeiter himself, or even the murderer. Hey, stranger. Who are you, anyway? Well, that's not as important as why I'm here. Oh, have you any idea who the foreigner might be? No, I ain't. Matter of fact, I didn't even see him when he came to the bank. And if he was one of them counterfeiters, though, these government circulars ought to give us a clue. Yeah, who's this one on top? The Ormond King. Just about the slickest of them all. The circular says he used to be an actor and is clever at wearing disguise. Ormond King. The initials. OK. Fits. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'll look into this case. I assume you left the murdered man as you found him. I didn't say he was murdered, Baird. I said he was shot. Where can I find you later? My friend and I are staying at the old Rogers Ranch. The old Rogers Ranch. Well, I'll see you gentlemen later. I don't know what to make you that fella. I do, Holmes. May I see that note you had? Oh, sure, stranger. Here it is. Yeah, it's just as I thought. This note is counterfeit, Holmes. Counterfeit? But hey, where are you going? Hey, speaker! Oh. I saw the man who just left the bank. Oh, I'm trying to see him. Follow him. Find out if his accomplice is the man who's initials J.D. or on this wallet. You're not come to? I'll wait here for your return, Toto. If our friend suspected I was trailing him, he'd try to escape. You think him... That man is a murderer, Toto. A short time later, Toto returned from his mission and reported to the masked man what he had seen. Kimusabe! Toto, follow Baron. See him go in newspaper office. Sign over door, say John Denby. John Denby? Huh? Well, that fits the initials J.D. I wouldn't be surprised if the counterfeit money is printed on Denby's press. What we do now? Was Baron there when you left? No. Him only stay a few minutes. Him in plenty big hurry. I imagine he would be. Let's go, Toto. We're going to have a talk with John Denby. Come on, Silver. Get him up! Reigning their horses, the masked man and his Indian friend quietly approached the office of the Prairie City Chronicle on foot. Downstairs was heavily shuttered as if concealed from passers-by some mysterious happenings inside. But in the second floor rear, a crossbar jutted from an unshuttered window. There's our entrance, Toto. That window on the second floor. How we get up? I'll hook that crossbar with my larian. Now we make a noose at one end for our feet. Fasten the other end of the pommel. Silver saddle. Yes, Silver. Is that not a hole? Ready, Toto? Toto, ready. All right, big fella. All right, Silver. Must be just over the shop. Listen. Now it's no use, Mary. I just can't go on and make paper money for Orman King. I'll never be able to face Prairie City again. But, Dad, you heard what he said. He'll expose you if you don't. I almost wish he would. At least I could resume my rightful name, John Blake, instead of masquerading as Denby. Dad, there must be some way out. Some way. There is, Mary. I'm going to Sheriff Bartlett and make a clean breast of everything. Oh, Dad. That won't be necessary, Blake. At least not yet. I'm a mask man. And an Indian. Don't be alarmed. I don't hire your friends. But who are you? Where did you come from? Upstairs, Blake. We made our entrance through a window. Then you know who I am. Yes. But it isn't his fault. Orman King forced Dad to work for him. Please, you've got to believe me. I believe you, Mary. Tonto and I overheard enough to know that you're telling the truth. Was that Orman King who was here while I go? Yes. That proves what I suspected in Banker Holmes' office, Tonto. Orman King is a man I met as James Baird. That's right. King murdered Baird. That impersonated him. That hadn't been for King's initials on the belt that dead man was wearing. We might never have known. Orman King, a murderer? Yes. King had a neat little scheme lined up to exchange his bogus bills for hard cash at the bank, wearing his various disguises. Then, as James Baird, he planned to approve his fake banknotes as genuine. King a murderer. Well, that's one time our learned friend pushed his luck too far, huh, Mary? I'm going down the sheriff bottle right now. Is this your wallet? The initials are JD. Well, yes, that's mine. King borrowed it from me a few days ago. What did you find it? I found it on the trail beside Baird's body. King must have dropped it. If you accuse him, he'll swear by this wallet that you are Baird's murderer. But what shall we do? I don't know. I'll take care of everything, Mary. I've already arranged for Orman King to betray himself. Come on, Donald. Ah. But who are you? Wait. It's Mask Man. He's gone. Dad, look. He's on the table. A silver bullet. Now we're in trouble. Don't you see? Dad, he's the Lone Ranger. Dust was falling as the Lone Ranger and Tonto arrived at the deserted Rogers Ranch where they had taken Baird's body. I got to hurry, Tutto. Orman King believes Baird is still alive. It'll soon be dark enough for him to feel safe to come here. That's right. We'd better move this couch into that patch of moonlight near the window, Tutto. Ah. I don't think he sees Baird lying here. Tutto's happy. That's fine, Tutto. Now we have nothing to do but wait for Orman King to bait his own trap. The moon had risen high in the heavens when suddenly through the window the Lone Ranger and Tonto saw the shadow of a man's head fall across the couch. It's King, Tutto. Ah. And what do we do now? We've got to wait for him to make the first move. That way he'll sign his own confession. Ah. Shh. I thought I settled your number on the trail, Baird. But I must have been mistaken. This time I'll make certain. Ah! Where's the black, Tutto? Huh? Time to do it. You! Yes, King? You shot my hand. You came here to shoot Baird, didn't you, King? Why, you? But you're too late. You murdered Baird out on the trail. Beneath these blankets are pillows arranged to look like a man. But in the bank that day you said he was shot. You made me think that he... That's right, King. You twisted my words into believing Baird was still alive. Are you double-crosser? I'll get you for this. Yes! Ah! That'll do for you, King. Oh-ho. Sobby, you hit him plenty hard. Now we'll try him out, Tutto. Tomorrow we'll deliver him to Sheriff Bartlett for the hangman's noose. Masked man? You saved Prairie City a lot of grief by capturing a counterfeiter. If enough of them phony notes he has gotten around, heaven knows what would have happened. Thank you, Banker Holmes, but Tutto deserves equal credit. We're beholden to you both, Masked Man. And if there's anything I can do to repay the favor... You can do one thing, Holmes. See to it that John Blake gets a fair hearing for the part he was compelled to play in King's crooked activities. Thank you, Lone Ranger. Yes, thank you. And you, Tondo, you've both given my father hope for the future. A future in which he and the Chronicle may have a chance to help Prairie City grow. You can count on me to do everything I... Why, he's gone. Yes. He's gone. You have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.