 A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty high old silver, the Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Tuttle, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains 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. Returnless now to those thrilling days of yesteryear, from out of the past come the thundering who feeds the great horse Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again. It was two months after the Custer massacre and the Dakota Badlands swarmed with the hostile Sioux. In the heart of that dangerous region a recent cloudburst had left a pool of water standing in a narrow canyon. There the leading wagon and the supply train bound for Deadwood was mired to its hubs. As the bullfackers fumed and eight teams of oxen strained vainly to free the big Conestoga, Captain Anson Mills, commander of a small cavalry escort, watched from his horse. His face was grim when he spoke. Sergeant, this place is a death trap. Yes, sir. We're sure goners of the Sioux fighters there. Lighten your load. Unload them. Pass that order to the other wagons. Sergeant, have the detachment help those bullwackers. Yes, sir. Detachment, this one. How many get busy? Well, I joined the army to fight. That's great. You should have been with Custer. I'll hop to it. Sergeant, look up the canyon. The last man in the engine, sir, riding like fury. What's it mean? I don't know, sir. Who's in command here? I am, sir. Who are you? Why are you mad? Never mind that. They're Indians up the canyon. Indians? How many? At least 500. They may not know you're here, but they're headed this way. We can't outrun them. Our horses are spent. Let's block the canyon with wagons and make a stand, sir. Let's storm the wagons on foot or shoot you from the rim rock. Yes, the Sioux have learned how to fight the army. Oh, what's in those barrels? Oil. The jeans and lamps and the deadwood gold mines. Thousands of gallons of it and me with 12 men. Let it, Captain. We can stop the Sioux. How, Mr. How? Roll every barrel downhill to the water. Dump part of the oil into this pool. Dab the barrels on end to form a barricade. Then cut the oxen loose and set fire to the oil. Yes, I get it now. Prairie bread Indian ponies panic at the sight of fire. That oil will burn long enough to give us an hour's head start. Get those barrels up here, Sergeant. Yes, sir. All barrels to the front on the devil. Keep it up here. Look up on rim rock. Man on horse. Now I'm gone. Those were signal shots. The Indians know now that we're here. Maybe him's count for Sioux. Let him sit on horse like white man. More barrels up here. Come on, Taro. Now, where are you going? Back up the canyon to those big bowlers. They'll have to delay the Indians if they show up before the barricade is finished. But you're only two against 500. The Indians can't know our exact strength. A few shots from behind those rocks will make them cautious. If we pile the barrels up, you'll never get back over them. Leave an opening where there's only a single tear of barrels. Start the fires at the side. Even with a single tear, the flames will leap high. We'll start back as soon as we see a blaze. Then we'll have to take our chances. All right. Come on, Taro. What's up? You got perfect cover here, Taro. And maybe it's a good thing. We hear plenty horses and canyons. Here they come. Daddy's over. Well, you see them now. Them belong to Ogallala Sioux Tribe. Then they're crazy horses' braves. Empty soldiers. Now, Taro, now. That's top ones in front, but warriors behind push arms. See what the soldiers are doing. Then got barrels followed up. Now with them not heads out of sun. Now barrels get fired. Captain's stand on top. Him wave past. Him jump. Stay inside. Then come on. Our horses can hurt the low part of the barrier. One, two, three. With a blazing barricade ahead of them and a horde of hauling Sioux close behind, the Lone Ranger and Taro raced for their lives. One, two, three. From some of the bullet-punched barrels, jets of blazing fluid played into the pool. Flames licked out over the oil-coated water and black smoke rolled up in a choking cloud. At the sight of the fiery roadblock, the Indian ponies reared up, squealing. The warriors themselves stared in dismay at the spectacle of burning water. Then the masked man and Tato gathered their horses into the pool. Come on, big fella. The Lone Ranger's great white stallion gathered himself with a jump. All right up. A thawing leap, a flash of filled reuse. Then he and his rider were over. Then Tato put scout over the flaming hurdle. They were just in time. The instant later, the flames closed in behind them. A cheer burst from Captain Mills and his cavalrymen as the two men flowed up. Oh, sir. Oh, sir. Look at that fire now, sir. The arrows are blowing up. Flames are as far as the canyon goes. Well, Captain, you and your men are safe now. The Indians can't get out of the canyon in time to head you off. They won't be able to pass that fire before you're out of reach. We owe you our lives. If there's anything... There isn't, sir. All Tato and I ask is a chance to be of service. Then you'd better return with us to Fort Laramie. I have to know General Sheridan needs someone to carry out a dangerous and delicate mission. Very well, sir. Let's get started. Detachment at the truck! All right! All right! Ho! Ho! General Philippe Sheridan heaved his bulky body from a chair and stood face to face with the Lone Ranger and Captain Mills. For a moment, he tugged at his moustache, studying the mask man. Then he pointed to an empty sabre sheath which lay on his desk. Sir, that scabbard belonged to General Custer. I want Custer's sabre recovered. In view of what Captain Mills has told me of your contact in the face of great odds, I think you're the one man in the West who stands any chance of getting back that sword. General Sheridan, just why do you want it back? It's a point of honor with the army. No general of the regular forces ever before lost his sword to the Indians. The Indians are worthy enemies, but I can see how sitting bull or some crafty medicine man could use it to play on tribal superstitions and get the Indians to fight again. Fortunately, sitting bull doesn't have it. Prisoners tell us that when the spoils of battle were divided, the sword fell to Crazy Horse, who's strictly a war chief. He can be found. Then you'll undertake the mission? Yes, I will, sir. I want to keep the Sioux war from spreading. Several weeks later, the Lone Ranger and Tonto rode into Slim Butte's Pass with a six-horse pack train. At the scene of the battle of the oil barrels, they had picked up the trail of the Ogallala Sioux, only to lose it as they pushed farther into the Black Hills, the Holy Land of the Dakota Indians. Tonto, who guided the pack animals, was saying... He must hurry. Yes. Horses act like them know this place. They were bred here. This is where the Moray Ranch ranges its stock. Oh. Now, how we get horses from army? I picked them out of the remount herd because they didn't bear the United States' brand. Captain Mills said it'd been commandeered from the Moray spread. Oh, me savvy. Look out, Tonto, pull up. Hold still, old fella. Hold still, old fella. Wait. I saw a lookout move on that beaut over there. Then bullets come plenty close. Return to fire. Look! That horse break loose. We get him. No, wait, Tonto, wait. Let him go. That horse knows the herd trails around here. It may lead to the hills by another route. We'll follow it. Hold still, old fella. Tonto! Thomas Moray paced the floor of his ranch house. A big-bodied man, he made a striking figure with his flaming beard, which he wore trimmed in the imperial style. He seemed to be paying no attention to his guest, Ben Wade, who had just arrived from Deadwood. Wade ventured a question. Say, Moray, what are you gripping those horse specimens for? I'm Major Moray, do you, sir? Don't forget I was a staff officer under General McClellan, Maximilian of Mexico, and Napoleon III, an expert swordsman. I'm gripping the oar to keep my hands in shape to use a saber. Oh, I forgot about you being a swordsman. I was schooled by Maternist Shulman as Sel Darman, Paris. Paris. I'm going back there when this western adventure is over. It won't be over soon. That's why I'm here. I've been instructed to tell you to keep the Sioux on the warpath for another six months or a year. That's a big order. The big men in the syndicate have fixed things in Washington, so we'll get a grant of a million acres of land around here. Wade, the Indians are too short of ammunition to continue fighting. That's worse. Crazy Horse is getting hard to handle. I thought he trusted you. He doesn't trust any white man. He knows we have some hidden purpose for helping his people, but he respects my knowledge of military science. That's my only hold on him. Well, the syndicate's sending a packet load of new winchesters and cartridges up the Missouri River. That's good news. Yeah. Where's Crazy Horse now? Quarter in a big cave where the horse herd used to go in winter. I moved them there last month. That was when we ran into that supply train. We were ready for about that arms shipment as soon as possible. You might take a notion to head for Canada who was sitting bull. We'll see him tonight. I hear someone outside. What's the matter, Sam? Major, the mask man and the minion just ready to come through the pass. The mask man. Call your gang together and head them off. Deep in the cavern where the Sioux had taken refuge, a council fire burned high. The great war chief Crazy Horse had the place of honor. He drew on an empty pipe as two moons rose and addressed him. Great sheet. The Sioux and Cheyennes are scattered. We hide in a hole like hunted coyotes. Our stomachs and our guns are empty and there is nothing left to smoke in the council pipe, not even a shred of willow bark. We win battles, but the white men win the war. I have spoken. What two moons says is true but we will fight again. Our friend Redbeard has promised us more rifles and many bullets. He is a great warrior. Let us be patient. We're not, we're not, we're not. My people have found a pack horse. This pony comes into cave. It carries much tobacco. It is gift from Juan Tango, our father and the son. It is a trick, my brothers. I see nothing but a trader's horse and goods. Our people are all here. No one watches at the mouth of the cave. Hobo, hobo, go back. Look, great chief. Two men are coming with more pack cornage. One is an Indian. The other is a white man with a mask. They are trapped. Let us kill them. 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. Ranger and Tonto were trapped in a cave to which their quest for General Custer's sword had taken them. As hundreds of Sue Braves closed in, the masked man tried to speak, but his voice was drowned and yelled. And the great war chief, Crazy Horse, sprang from a council fire and confronted his people, arm-up-raised in the sign of peace. Hobo, get away. Great Chief Wicco, my Indian friend and I have come in peace. Let the white stranger say how he reached this cave and what he wants. We followed our Runaway pack horse. We are here to trade this chief has seen many traitors. None wore a mask. Great Chief, all trading with hostile Sue has been outlawed by the white man. Let the strangers dismount. Join us at council fire. Great Chief, your council pipe is empty. Here, let me fill it. This tobacco is good. There. Now let me light it. Do you have enough of it to fill the pipes of all your people many times? My people have little left to trade for it. We have been driven from our hunting grounds. But you have taken much loot from the pony soldiers. Another trader got watches, rings and paper money we took that little big horn. It is told that yellow hair had a sword mounted with silver and gold. This chief took two long knives that day. One belonged to yellow hair. The other was his brothers. Let me see them. We will bring them. The great chief is obeyed. Here is the squaw with long knives. Take the white man. The names of General Custer and Captain Tom Custer are engraved on the blades. Great Chief, they are worth everything I brought you. Manita, you have traded much for little. Great Chief, who are these men? Major, one of them is masked. The masked man again. I didn't know that we had met before. Great Chief, these men are spies for the army. Tell your warriors to seize them. They cannot escape. How do you know that they are spies? They were with the soldiers in the canyon. They jumped their horses over the burning barricade. This chief was there. He did not see a masked man. You were in the canyon and his back was turned to you. If I was on the ledge, you could look down and see his face. How did he manage to find this cave? He said he followed a runaway pack phony. This chief believes him. I believe that too. Those pack horses are some that the men of the Second Cavalry commandeered when they passed through my range right after Little Bighorn. I recognize that blue ron. My friend Redbeard could be mistaken about a horse. Great Chief, we are not spies. If we were, we wouldn't have come into this cave. We knew you were here and could have gone away without being seen. Then the soldiers could have taken you by surprise. That is so. They wanted to see how many warriors were here and how well they were armed. This chief cannot decide the matter. I fold my arms and leave it for you white men to find out. That means a duel, I suppose. I have heard that white men use long knives to settle arguments. Let the stranger give Redbeard one of those I traded to him. Very well. There's a saber, Redbeard. It's too good a blade to use on a snooping pole cat like you. The life of the man who loses will belong to the man who wins. I, Tashunka, with Coe, have spoken. Hello. Look here, Major. You ought to give the chief the good news right now. No, Wade. He'll go over better with him after he sees what I can do with a saber. Here, tunnel. Take my gun. Now, Redbeard, get rid of yours. Don't worry, I won't need it. Here, Wade. All right, Major. Great chief, I lift my sword to you. And I lift mine. Now, watch me. As he spoke, the renegade swung his saber high above his head in a muscle-flexing movement. The singing blade cut a circle in the firelight and he rose on tiptoe as though pulled upward by the glittering gyrations. Still keeping the steel of whirl, he passed it around his body in between his legs, then brought it to the salute with a final flourish. The day was pressed forward, eyes gleaming with excitement, and even the stolid crazy horse appeared odd. But the lone ranger remained impassive, his own sword in a guard position. Moray gave him a wolfish grin. Well, fellow, what do you think of your chance of living? On guard, Redbeard. On guard it is. Blade crossed, the lone ranger and Moray swayed back and forth. The muscles of their backs, drippling as each strove to keep the other from disengaging. Still sneering at his adversary, the soldier of fortune called a crazy horse. Great chief. I'm about to cut this by the pieces. Sue fashion. Quiet. There's a thrust in tears. Now turn your blade. Oh, you do know swordsmanship. So much the matter. Suddenly Moray pivoted like a dancing master. His blade flicked out. The masked man sidestepped, but he was late. Too late. The point of the free-booter saver caught him high in the shoulder. Touché! I could kill you with a corn cutter. A scratch doesn't kill. Moray fainted and they're said another thrust at the masked man's heart, but it was caught and parried. Once you've changed, the renegade put into play every trick of the praying swordsman, but step by step the lone ranger forced him back. No, you don't. I'll get you yet. Not with the saber. As Moray fell back, breathing hard, a draft in the mouth of the cave whipped up the council fire. Smoke enveloped the duelists. Half the blind of the masked man failed to see a signal which Moray passed to his confederate, Ben Wade. I'm out of that smoke. I'll give you time. I'm coming. Now! At that instance, Wade pushed a piece of fire between the lone ranger's legs. He tripped, lost his balance, fell forward on hands and knees. Moray sprang forward, his saber glittering above his head, his red beard, redder steel in the firelight. He poised himself for the death stroke. Here it comes, spy! Out of the crowd of Indians, a great white horse came rearing and thrashing. It was Silver, a silver who's rolling eyes and flaring nostrils, beckoning his deadly rage. The warriors gave way and panicked, and as the circle opened, a big stallion leaped and landed astride his fallen master. Moray fell back, his saber still upraised. Wade, Wade, grab that horse! Get it away! Not me, Major! I can't get at that spy! He's getting up! I am up. Good boy, Silver. Now back. Back, big fella. Watch him, Colo. If it hadn't been for that horse... On guard! Hard-clressed again, Moray dropped halfway to his knees. From that position, he aimed a terrible lunge at the lower part of the masked man's body. It was a foul thrust, known as the Coolish Jarnak. The lone ranger turning sideways, debated the steel. The point ran into one of his empty holsters, and for a moment the tough leather held it. His own sabre slid down the pre-booters' blade, meshing its point in the handguard. In vain, Moray tried to disengage. The sword flew upward, torn from his grip by a twist to the masked man's wrist. It fell at crazy horse's feet. Ah! Ah! Great Chief! Save me. He has distorted my throat. I promise to lose his life to the man who won. I do not break my word. Great Chief, think of what I have done and can do for you. Redbeard, I thought you were a great warrior, but I was mistaken. Hear me! In a few sleeps from now, a shipload of arms and ammunition will reach us. This Chief will not listen anymore. You speak with a crooked tongue. Why, you miserable red-skinned? Wait, wait! Here's your gun, Major. Come on. He won't use his sword. I don't need it. I've got that gun. Drop it or I'll break your arm. If I can't get you, I'll kill that double-crossing, crazy horse. Watch out, Chief! Oh! I'm shot! Major, you shot me! I've got the gun now. Stand still! Oh, I miss crazy horse and hit Wade. Well, he got me into this. Otto, look after Wade. You already look keema-santi. I'm dead. Great Chief, I'm going to take Redbeard away. He is yours. But this Chief does not understand why you do not kill him now. He will die later. You are a mighty man with a long knife. You are my friend. Hereafter, my people will know you by the name man for whom the horse fights. It is good to be a friend of the great Chief. Now, let me show you a silver bullet for my gun belt. Look well at it. There must be good medicine in it. And a white man who shows you such a bullet from now on can be trusted. This Chief sees and believes. Good. Otto, get the horses. Come on, Mori. So you know me. You betrayed yourself tonight. You're going to Fort Laramie. That's better than being left a crazy horse now. If it hadn't been for those cursed sabers... Save them up by the ends of the blades and hand them to me. All right. This... This was General Custer's sword. Ranger returned to General Sheridan's headquarters. And the swords of the Custer brothers lay on the commander's desk. The masked man stood by silently while Captain Mills reported the latest developments in the Mori case. The Captain was saying... We've sent out a company of cavalry to raid Mori's ranch. He himself is in the guardhouse. He's made a confession stating that a gold mining syndicate financed his activities as a gun runner and troublemaker among the Sioux. We'll go into that later. And now, Masked Man, I'd like to know just where you found Crazy Horse and his band. You wouldn't find him there now, sir. He'd be on the move from now on. He's short of food and ammunition. I'm prepared to throw 5,000 men into the field against him. General Sheridan, there's no need to waste the lives of your soldiers or exterminate the Sioux. What do you mean? I'm confident, sir, Crazy Horse will surrender. If he is approached by a man, he can trust and fair terms are offered to him. There's the rub, sir. Crazy Horse isn't likely to trust anyone who has the authority to treat with him. I can help you in that, General Sheridan. Here, take this bullet. Hmm. A silver bullet. Anyone who shows it to Crazy Horse will be accepted as a friend. Indeed. Then we shall follow your advice. Now, let me present you with the reward which the officers of this department raise for the return of the sword. It's a considerable sum. I want you to turn it over to the families of the men who fell with Custer. All I ask, sir, is the privilege of restoring the saber to its scabbard. There they are, sir. I have them. There, General. The saber is back where it rested before Custer drew it at Little Big Horn. It should never be unceased again. What do you think, Captain Mills? I fully agree with him, sir. A masked man, I... Why, he's gone. So he is. Er, Captain, can you tell me who he is? The silver bullet identifies him, sir. He's the lone ranger. This is a copyrighted feature originated by George W. Trendle and directed by Charles D. Livingston. The part of the lone ranger is played by Brace Beemer.