 Ranger Bill, warrior of the woodland, struggling against extreme odds, traveling dangerous trails, fighting the many enemies of nature. This is the job of the guardian of the forest, Ranger Bill. Pouring rain, freezing cold, blistering heat, snow, floods, bears, rattlesnakes, mountain lions. Yes, all this in exchange for the satisfaction and pride of a job well done. Hello boys and girls. Say, listen to this. You hear that music? Sure isn't much like what we call music, is it? We had to travel many a strange and dangerous path until finally one day we heard it. And what happened then? I'll tell you about right now in the story I call One Mile Don. Hey, soccer talker? Sire? Is this the day? This is the day, Sire. Have you kept count? Each time the sand clock has run out, I have placed one small pebble in the clay bowl. I have counted carefully, each day I have counted. Every time the bowl was filled, filled with 365 pebbles, then I put it on the ledge with the other bowls. The bowls already filled with pebbles. And how many filled bowls are there, soccer talker? Sire, there are 40 bowls. 40? 40 bowls. 40 years. I have been here for 40 years. The world has forgotten me. And I have almost forgotten the world. Soccer talker? Sire? You put the 40th bowl upon the ledge yesterday? Yes, Sire, I have. Good. Now I start my 41st year hidden from all the evils of the outside world. The pebble soccer talker dropped the 14,600 first pebble into the new bowl. You want to hear radio, Bill? News report being about over by now, Gray Wolf. Turn it on, though. I like to compare there with the reports with ours. Of course, recent rains have kept the forest fire hazard as a minimum. Campers and hikers are urged to take the usual precautions. And that about winds is up for the day, except for one final item. Old timers will recall the great Green Tree mystery. Just 40 years ago today, Lieutenant Garnet Green Tree vanished from the face of the earth. After a brilliant war record, Green Tree, an officer in the Army Air Corps, flew his private plane to South America. And somewhere over the Andes Mountains he vanished. No trace has ever been found of his plane or of him. Yet legend persists that he is still alive. If he were, which seems unlikely, he would be 75 years old. Green Tree's disappearance remains a classic unsolved mystery. Well, we'll be back next at six o'clock. Wet woods we don't have much to worry about. And they're still talking about Green Tree. Do you remember much about that? Gray Wolf not born yet when Green Tree fly away. But I read a lot, hear a lot about him. How people think Green Tree alive? You think he alive, Bill? I don't know. Funny thing, though. I do know his family. They have their home not too far from here. Justices and nephews left now, of course. Why, Green Tree, you go to Andes in first place. Goodness knows. He was bitter, disillusioned. So they said. And the war, World War I, made him aware of the cruelty and avarice of some men. And apparently he flew off to South America after it was over in an effort to get away, to forget. His family has never given up hope, though. They still think that... What are you thinking about? Green Tree. Bill, you remember two, three years ago you made a trip to South America. Prue, you study erosion control and give advice to Peruvian government. Sure, but what is that? You bring back souvenirs. Grateful government men give. All Spanish coins, earl heads, even tiny medallion of pure gold. Yes, I remember. That medallion was supposed to be very old. Probably back as far as Montezuma's time. Well, you still have that stuff? Sure. It's around here someplace. These desk drawers... Ah, here it is. Not a very big package as that. Here, I'll open it up. There you are. Good. Let's see. Earl heads, old Spanish coins, and the heistic medallion. That's it, all right. But what's that got to do with it? It would look like head of Indian on one side, on the other side. On the other side, it's this not Montezuma medallion. This modern medallion. On the reverse side, stamped deep into the metal, crude and rough, but plain as day, two initials. Yes, the initials GG. You see Green Tree people, Bill? Yeah, showed them the medallion, left the plaster cast we made of it with them. Now, what do they think? Well, they're very excited. They gave me all the existing maps they have of the territory where they think their Uncle Vannish and all the reports they've ever received and they want me to look them over. Oh, it looked like planetary. This is the first clue, the first real clue they've ever found. Might mean a great deal. Or what? It might mean nothing. We can't tell. Not yet. We will, the Green Tree family want me, us that is, to go down to South America and see what we can find out. We go? We'll have to think it over. I'd want both of us to study all this and, well, I have a full month's vacation doing, well, who knows? Maybe this is a clue that might lead to actual information about Green Tree. We go whenever you say. See, that gives me the idea for a tune. I'd call it, I'll call it, We Down South in the Andes Mountains where they have them sparkling fountains. Listen. Sir? Yes, sir. I have them here. I have them up from the coast. A whole bundle. Good. That is very good. We will do as always. Each morning you will bring me one. Just one. From the top of the pile. I understand. Each morning, just one now. In this way, I find out everything that is happening in the world. Where I I remain out of the world. In this way, I know all about them. They know nothing whatsoever about me. Move the lamp a little closer. Yeah. That's it. Now trim the wick. There. Now, hand me the first one from the top of the pile. Well, that's that. Ah, yes. We've read, studied, compared notes and all this data and don't know anything more than we did before. All we know is that green trade did disappear somewhere in one general area, the Andes Mountains. Thousand square miles, maybe more. Too big place for a hunt. Hard to find tracks after 40 years. No use, I'm afraid. But gold medallion, good clue. But not enough clues. Ranger Ed Corners, Bill Jefferson speaking. Bill, this is Colonel Riley. I'm calling from the Pentagon. You got pencil and paper there, boy? Sure I have. Well, get ready to write this down. We check on that plastic cast of that medallion with the initials GG, but didn't turn up anything new on that man green tree. Well, neither did we out here, Colonel. But the case has never been marked closed. He's still listed as missing by the Air Force. But get this, boy. I'm listening. In hope that it might cat somebody's eye. Brother, it did. What? Yes, sir. You know the New York Blade? Sure, the largest circulation in the world. Well, some little old lady in their mailing department read the item about the medallion. Seems they send the subscriptions to their papers all over the whole world. Nothing unusual about that. But more years than she can remember, they've been sending an annual subscription to some fellow down in Peru. Some fellow with a Spanish name. Not, boy, but listen to this. Those subscriptions have been paid for with those little gold medallions. What? The Blade takes them to the bank, turns them into our money, and credits this South American's account with them. Boy, I've been to that bank, and they still have a few of them unconverted medallions. And did they? You bet they did. Each stamp with the initials GG. Look out plain window, Bill. Not good country. No tree, no bush, just rock and sand. Do you know about the gold mines in this area? The weird ones that they have here in these very Andes Mountains? I know. Well, they're just like any mine, I guess, except for one thing. What's that? They're the deepest mines in the world. How deep is deep? Hard to believe, but some of them go down more than a mile. Yeah, bloody deep. Yeah, and the marvelous thing about them is that those savages working hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ago managed to dig air ducts and ventilation channels that even the deepest parts are always supplied with plenty of fresh air. Are mines all gone now? Most of them. The ruins of some can be found here and there. Look like plain turning. I think we ought to be on the ground for a long time. Green tree nephews must want you to find their uncle real bad and pay all your expenses down here. Of course, when the Air Force found out I was thinking of going, they arranged for a leave of absence for me, so this trip doesn't even count as my vacation. Why, you think we find Green Tree? Yes, as good as mine. As you said, a 40-year-old trail is going to be hard to follow, but we can try. Morales Sanchez, that indeed is my name, Senores, and I am at your service. May I be so bold as to ask what it is that brings two noble North Americanos to my humble cassa? We're not sure. Morales Sanchez is here to serve you, Senores. As you see, I am an importer and an exporter. Some days I am very busy with imports. Imports? Exports. Imports. Morales Sanchez is always busy. I can imagine. Morales Sanchez can also be trusted to execute commissions. Anything. Anything at all. As long as it is legal. I think that's the sort of thing we want to talk to you about. Ah, excelanto, Senores. Let us be seated here under the arning out of the heat of the sun. Bring us the lemonade. Jesus, a North Americano costum serving the lemonade. We are very modern here. Oh, then how can I best serve you, Senores? Allow me to get to the point right away. Exactly. Proceed. Well, we were... Ah-ha, here is the lemonade. Oh, how refreshing on a warm day, Senores. Thank you. Mr. Sanchez, you spoke of commissions. Exactly. Well, sorts of commissions. And all confidential, of course. Well, we wouldn't want you to betray a confidence, but it may well be that what we want to know is... Senores, your wish is my command. Very well. Mr. Sanchez, we understand that for a number of years now, you have been ordering each year an annual subscription to the daily paper The New York Blende. Ah, some more lemonade, Senores. This in itself is not unusual, of course, but the fact that you pay for it with a gold medallion... You know a great deal, Senor, in your beer. And I see you have come a great distance to find out more. Well, I can help you, but not much. Senor, do have some more lemonade. And I will tell you what I can. Thank you. Go right ahead. It is true that I have subscribed to the blade for many years. It is sent here in bundle, six months of paper each time. Of course, I do not read these papers myself, Senor. Who does read them? I do not know. My commission agent. For many years each year an old Aztec appears in the street before my door. He has the medallion with him. As payment for the renewal of the subscription. But why? Why use this ancient method of payment? He insists... insists that I pay the New York office in gold. Some of these old Aztecs are well... What's his name? I do not know, Senor. He has been coming here since before I was born, open to each other. But who are the newspapers for? Senor, I do not know. I make out the subscription in my name, as you know. And then, twice a year, the old Indian comes and picks them up. Where does he go with them? Senor, I do not know. How can we find this man? Senor, I do... Senor, you are a very fortunate man. The old Aztec is coming down the street right this minute. Do not speak. Just wait. I beg you. Just wait. Very well. Let's stand over here at the side. Here you come now. He is old. He talks sign language. I do not understand his kind of sign language. Look, he is drawing a picture in the dust of the road. A picture of a man with long beard. I think he is trying to show that the man is sick. Plenty of sick look like. Now, Indian offer a goal to Mr. Sanchez. Great Wolf, that old Indian is here to try to buy medicine. He is pointing to his hips. See his chest. Somebody is sick in hips and chest. Wait a moment. Maybe we can help you. We have... Old Aztec kicked one like a dew and run like deer. He sure vanished in a hurry already. He laid two cloaks behind. Deer. He dropped medallion. Same kind. Same tuition. But what is this other clue? Old Aztec, pretty good artist. You look picture in dust. You look at nose of man. Nose like yours. Not like Aztec nose. Man in picture has sharp straight nose. Like white man. You smart man, Bill, figure out this move. Not smart, Gray Wolf, just deduction. These tribes, just like the tribes in our country, all dress differently. We looked at those illustrations of native costumes in the museum and discovered that our man, according to what he was wearing, had to come from this part of the end. So we hire old car from Sanchez and drive up here. But what we look for, Bill? We'll just keep our eyes open and hope for another clue. I don't know if this is where old Aztec gold mines were or maps were. Yeah. Nothing here but rocks now. This road is barely wide enough for the car. Hang on! That was a close call. We ran smack into that big rock. It's falling right across the road. We can't get around it. We'll just have to... Bill, get out of the car! Run fast! That second, Ra came rolling down the mountainside and hit our car and flattened it. It's in a row. Bill, come over here. Two good luck. Each rock have cobalt mocks in it. It's rocks not accident. Somebody ply first rock in the road to stop car. Then pry second rock loose to make it land on us. Bill, you know what? What? Somebody not want us here. Nothing in sight. Nothing. Wildest country I ever saw. Nothing but rocks. No grass, no bush, not even birds. No traces of people. No. No use, I guess. Suppose we might as well... Hey, something's moving up ahead there. Yeah. Like a bird, maybe. Just an old piece of newspaper. What's a newspaper doing up here? Here, Bill. Page from the New York Blade. Only a month old. And here, in the top of the trackless and these mountains. You think this paper belongs to Bill? I think the same as you do. Let's keep on pushing. How long we keep looking? Keep this up forever, that's for sure. I'll tell you what, let's sit down and rest for a while. Sure. Big flat rock here. Good place to sit. Chance to rest or fate? No. Not rest long, though. Why not? Take better look at rock. See here. And there. And over there. You have sharp eyes. Trimmed with some sort of an instrument. Hey, have an idea. Get a hold of that edge over there, will you? Grille or fam, good grip. No, heave. It's no use. Wait a minute. Let's shift over to the other side of that rock. All right, get a hold over there. No, no, give it, give it again. A tunnel! That rock swung open just exactly like a trapdoor. Perfectly balanced. The ancient Aztecs built those tilting doors to hide the entrance to the mines. It's written down in books. What we find is opening to all mine. Yeah. You see the steps going down? Carefully cut out of the solid rock. Go down out of sight. Straight down, dark down there. Well, we have our flashlights. Come on. Each step perfectly made. Perfectly fitted. Without modern cutting tools. Without any cement or binder. Down. I've kept count. Each step is almost exactly a foot high. The main is according to the number we've come down. We're more than a half mile underground. Look, passageway on the side tunnel. Leading off the right. Wait a minute. Nothing. See the dust on the floor hasn't been disturbed in a hundred years. The dust on the floor is some tunnel not disturbed. But no dust on steps. That's right. A little sharpened wall. Bundles in it. Put like this way. Bundles of news papers. It's neatly tied up with fiber. Hand me one, Grey Wolf. Here you are. This one is a whole stack of New York blades for the year 1922. You still keep the count on steps built? Yeah, it's incredible. Unbelievable. Grey Wolf, we're more than one mile down. And bare fresh. Huh? End of steps. Reach bottom of mine. One mile down. Look like we in big room. Flash your light around. Passageway there. And there. Three passageways. We look at dust on floor. First passageway. Plenty of dust. Second one. Dust same as the first. Not disturb. Third passageway. Yeah, I see it too. A clear path. No dust. Somebody has been using this passageway. We go for a look. We go for a look. What do we stop for? I thought I heard something. I couldn't be sure. Savage music. Hard to tell in this cave. Maybe up ahead, maybe not. That music proves one thing for certain. Alone in this mine. All we've got to do right now is find out who's making that music. Hey, music, stop. Thanks for the wonder. Thanks for the wonder if they've heard us. If they know we're here. Hey, like end of tunnel. Yeah, right. That's odd. This passageway just stops. No nothing. Solid one rock. We all plunge a long way just to see that. What? I thought a rush of air. Flies your light back along the passageway. Solid rock wall there too. It's a door. A rock door. Somebody has shut a rock door and wall is in. What do we do, Bill? We haven't a single tool of any sort. I can't budge that stone door in my fists. Wait. So carefully fit it in the room, but didn't even see it when no one was there. We see it now, all right. We see who opened it. It'll be your last. That's who it is, all right. Look, he's beckoning to us. Out on that stone bench, warm beard and all, just like them drawing in the dust. A white man. That Indian is motioning us to be quiet. White man dead. Now, he's breathing. I don't think that... Uh, yes. Thank you, Socrates. See, you have brought our guests. We have been expecting you. Perhaps I should introduce myself, gentlemen. I am, as I am sure you know by now, Garnet Green Tree. It was quite clever of you to find me. Mr. Green Tree, are you a prisoner here? No, no, of course not. Forty years ago, my plane crashed. The natives, a remnant of a once great tribe, brought me into this mine. And here I have found peace, joy, escape. Here I have stayed by choice, underground for forty years. The plane? As soon as I decided I had found a way to hide from the evil in the world, I had to try and take the plane apart and conceal it in the mine. I have been here ever since. They bring me fruit, milk, and it has made my amusement to send each year for the New York newspaper. But here I stay because here I do not have to see the evil that is in the world. But you are seventy-five years old now. Seventy-six. And you're ill, very ill. It is of no matter. Yes, it does matter. You've hidden from the sound, the evil. In an effort to pretend there is no such thing as evil. It is true. But can't you see that's wrong? I'm not a doctor of it. Even I can tell that a glance you're suffering from a serious vitamin deficiency, lack of vitamin D, lack of sunlight. It's wrong of us to avoid the light in the sun, Mr. Green Tree. It's even more wrong of us to avoid God. We can't live healthy lives without sunlight. Nor can we live healthy spiritual lives without God and forgiveness of His Son. God doesn't want us to run away from the world. We can't hide from the world and be happy. We can't hide from Him and be happy. You say you can't face the evil of the world. Well, I suppose there will always be evil men to work somewhere. But we can't fight evil by ignoring it. Suppose we own it at it. Suppose Jesus has done that. No, Mr. Green Tree. It's up to those of us who are Christians and those of us who want to be Christians to do our part in combating evil. We're a part of God's plan. The forces of evil can't be conquered by running away from them. And you have run away, Mr. Green Tree. You've run away from the strife and the turmoil of the world. Hidden yourself deep, deep in this abandoned mind. One mile down. But even so, you can't run away from God. Each of us, in our humble way, can fight the wickedness of man. Fight it by example, by witness, by testify. You, Mr. Green Tree, have run away more successfully than any man I've ever known. But even you haven't been able to run away from... Oh, God. From Jesus. I used to think I was a Christian. But I can see now that... Yes. Sir, there are almost 6,000 steps up to the surface of the earth. A long way. A long, long way. But if you and your friend there will help me, I'll go with you. And when we get to the top, when we get to the top, when we're no longer one mile down, we can send a telegram to my nephews. We can tell them, Garnet Green Tree is coming home. Garnet Green Tree is no longer lost.