 A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty, I.O. Silver, the lone ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Tato, the masked rider of the plains 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 the thrilling days of yesteryear. From out of the past come the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver. The lone ranger rides again. In the middle of a rolling plain of lush green prairie grass, Rocky Patch was an ugly clump of scrub thatched boulders. But to the Indian, who urged his sturdy paint up the steep and narrow trail to the top, was soon revealed a shallow basin of the same rich soil as the plain below. This time, regged into neat rows of waving grain. Tato's eyes, searching the basin for a sign of the farmer, suddenly saw a man lying on the ground under the blazing sun. His arms and legs tied. His head twisted and limped against the blue-green grass. He's not dead. Now are you free? Yeah. Here, you'll drink water. Or you'll get bad blow on head. Or you'll rest. Me fix warm now. What happened? My legs. I can hardly move them. Ah, then plenty stiff. Somebody tie you. Oh, yes. I remember now. Oh, my. Oh, now. Now you drink this. You feel better blind by. Oh, thanks, engine. If you hadn't come, I'd have been a goner. What's your name? Me, Tonto. Uh, who you? What's owned is I. I own this farm. There is a soon-will, unless Tom Hunt and his body has run me off it. Oh, him fellow who tie you? He's boss of the borax range. Spread runs all around the foot of Rocky Page. Oh, yeah. Let me see it. I've seen him before. Let me see it. I've sweated for more than six months to make a home up here. I've cleared the land for crops and built a cabin and barn with just my own hands. But that don't make any difference to Tom Hunt. He hates homesteaders. Today he came to see me. Chillin' you straight. Clear out. I don't want nisters on my land. Technically, I reckon Rocky Page is your land, Mr. Hunt. But it's too steep for your steers to climb in grays and you never paid no attention to it before I filed my claim. And eat here and there. You're a farmer. I'd rather be hog kind and see you a kind within miles of my range. I'll give you your answer now. It's no. What? I like Rocky Page. In two weeks, my claim will be proved. This is my home and I mean to keep it. Why, you young whippersnepper. I'll have my waddies when you outta here so fast you'll make your head swim. Now, Dad, you know what the doctor said about your blood pressure. Renji, what in thunder you doin' up here? What's the trouble? Won't wit follow orders? You mean to say you know this, this land grabbin' Maverick? Your daughter's been here before. But now you're old friends now, Dad. Blast it, Nancy. I won't have you collabin' with a nester. Your range boss has been here, too. I'll thank you to order Monk Myers to stay free of my farm. Order my... Where are you, young buckaroo? Why won't you let Wit stay? It's not really our... Keep on, Lacey, Lacey. You've got no business up here with this owner. He can't hold it anyway. I think you've said all you came to say, Mr. Hunt. What? What? You're darn tootin' I have and I'm sayin' it again. Bear moose. If you ain't cleared out the insatiable wheat by Juniper, I'll turn the boys loose. And they hate nesters worse than redlers. Dad, you've got to look... You're comin' with me, young lady. If your Ma was livin', she'd skin you alive before she'd lie you to mix with the farmer. Get it, boys. You'll hold that. Goodbye, Whit. Goodbye, Nancy. Say it while you can, you young squirt. It's your last goodbye. Monk, keep your hands clean. I got you covered. You wanna know I've got no reason to carry a gun up here? Sure. I saw you wasn't wearing a gun belt. I figured maybe you was the knife-throwin' kind. Why are you... They've got a nervous trigger finger for nesters. What do you want? Well, I've been listenin' to your talk from behind their boulders. You seem to have a notion that you're... It's more than a notion, Monk. It's a fact. Neither you nor any other town huntswaddies can stop me. Oh, I'm right sorry to hear that, Whit. You don't frighten me. That's because you haven't got much imagination. If you had, you'd see how easy it'd be for me to drill you without anybody ever knowin'. A killer, huh? That's right. When somebody steps between me and what I want... You mean a Nancy hunt? Yeah. Her and something else. I thought I saw you skulkin'in' back a few of the time. She came to see me. You don't have a chance, Monk. I will after you're gone. But I'm staying. There's six bullets in this gun that say different. It's up to you how you go. Perpendicular or horizontal. That'd just as soon drill you. But you'd rather not risk a hang-noose if you can help it, huh? Yeah. If I had a gun, you wouldn't have the nerve, Monk. I'll just have to do the best with what there is. You won't fire again? Give me that gun. Take it. Oh, oh. The honorary coyote. Led's too good for you. I'm sending you six feet under. But slow. You'll bake under a blazin' sun by day and at night you'll freeze. No food, no water. Just as slow, torture and sweet. Boy sounded like it was miles away. And I came too for a minute, and so he tied me the way you found me. I guess Mr. Droptoff again. Uh, him hit you plenty high. I think it all happened that morning, half hour ago. And you feel better now. Yeah. Thanks to you, I... Look, my crops are on fire. They'll all be destroyed. Come, Scouts. You get up and saddle quick. Get them up, Scouts. Open the hole. We haven't a chance to stop on that blaze. Brain burned plenty fast. Every bit of my spring plant going up in flames. Cabin on fire. My barn too, and all my stock is pinned inside. We get them out plenty fast. Man run from house. He fired us. It's Monk, the yellow snake. He sent a match to everything I own. Get him right away. We've got to get the stock out of that barn. They'll be burned alive. Huh? I hear door. He worked plenty fast. Racing into the burning building, Tato and Witsauners worked chronically to free the stock that was quartered there. Flaming brands hurtled from the roof of the barn to the haystroon floor, narrowly missing the Indian and the farmer and setting a dozen new fires. Suddenly, as the last stock was being driven out, they heard an ominous rending overhead. Looked up to see the flaming roof about to crash upon them. Look out, Tano, we'll be trapped. Ah, you come. We'll just get the stock clear of the door. The roof cannot hold up much longer. Oh, I know it. Come on, let's go. Animals are a danger now. Look out here. Come on. Burned out. Six months' worth. The whole farm had gone up in smoke. But it'll take more than this for the barracks to drive me off. Ah, I'm not good. You'll fight for rights. You bet I will. The next barracks' gunk who shows himself on Rocky Patch is getting a slug. Some time later, the thick smoke from three signal fires billowed toward the sky from the rim of Rocky Patch. It was the traditional sign in the west that help was needed. In scanning the trail toward the nearby town of Bear Ridge, Tano was confident that the lone rager would answer his signal. He did not know that at that moment Muck Myers was conferring with Carl Judson in the latter's office. Ah, you're a fool, Muck. You had that nester set for a pine box, but you had to do it the hard way. Now he's more alive than before. Well, HUD, I know that blasted red skin had come nosey and around. Except for Tom Hunt and Nancy, nobody takes the trail up to Rocky Patch. Who is the Indian? No, no, never saw him before. Fine mess you've made. Now we'll have to do it all over again. Maybe not, Carl. Before I left, the nester's whole farm was a mess of flames. There wasn't a chance of stopping the blaze. Now there's nothing to keep with on his claim. It'll take more than a fire to drive him out. I know that young pup. He's proud and full of fight. I reckon you're right. If we don't act fast, somebody else will get wind of the gold buried on Rocky Patch. Maybe even with Saunders himself. You're sure there is gold up there, are you, Cal? Of course I'm sure. Got a map that shows the exact location, but it's on the nester's claim and as long as he's alive, we can't dig for it. The half-breed might have made the story up. I don't invest cash without proof that I'm going to get a sizable chunk more in my investment back. No offense, I just wanted to be sure it wasn't risking my neck for nothing. I wouldn't have told you about the gold if I didn't need you to get rid of Whit Saunders. Tom Hunt has threatened to have the boys run the nester off in a week. Tom Hunt's daughter wraps the old coat around her finger. You know that. She wants Whit to stay. You'll be there come doomsday. All right. I'll go gunning for him again. When? Tonight. Looks like it's going to be cloudy. He'll give me a chance to sneak into the patch without being seen. Now, this time, don't get any fancy notions. Give him a straight taste of lead. Don't worry. I don't make the same mistake twice. I'll drill him full of so many holes if he don't pass out from lead poisoning. He'll die in the moon. The night was thick on the prairie below Rocky Patch when the Lone Ranger reigned in beside Tom. You come plenty fast. I left as soon as I saw your signal. You'll not bring Dan? No, I didn't want to involve him in danger. He'll be all right in town until we return for him. What's wrong, Kimosabe? Plenty wrong in Rocky Patch. Me ride down to Prairie to meet you. I think maybe you'll not find Mountain Trail in dark. Is the trail far from here? Half mile. We go there plenty quick. There may be trouble later. What kind of trouble? Me tell you why we ride. Get him up! Come on, Silver! As the powerful Silver and the sturdy Scout raced across the prairie toward the Mountain Trail, Tonto revealed the nature of which Saunders troubled with his masked friend. Then they began the short with steep ascent. Is that fair to his farmer? Ah, him lose everything but livestock. I see. We come to Rocky Patch, that basin head. This trail is treacherous. Ah, it's plenty steep and narrow. We go slow. Watch out for loose rocks. Steady Scout. Steady, Silver. Listen. Shots come from top of trail. That horse is running away. Ah, he kept his way. Stop him. Come on, Silver. Get him up, Scout. Horse not have rider. He must have thrown her. Ah. Oh, boy. Pull up. Oh. Nancy! Nancy! Look. Horse throw girl and ledge. She's unconscious. That's right. If she moves an inch when she recovers, she'll fall over the cliff. 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. Now to continue our story. Whit Saunders stood staring with poor at the still huddled figure of the girl he loved. Nothing short of a miracle had saved her from instant death. The ledge where her body rested was not more than two feet wide. A narrow shelf which jutted from the scrub-thatched face of rocky patch some distance down from the rim. Beyond it was a sheer breath-taking drop to the prairie. Racing to the top of the trail, the Lone Ranger and Tonto quickly drew rain. Oh, sir. Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Hurry, Tonto. Bring your rope. I didn't know it was Nancy. I wouldn't hurt her for any... Wait. You may as well... There's no time for talk. Run both of these ropes through the fork of that scrub. Yes, sir. Fasten the end of your rope to Scout, Tonto. I'll fasten mine to Silver. You're going down to it? Yes. Let me go. Hurry with those ropes, man. They're through. I'll arrange this noose around my waist. You take plenty care... I will. Are the horses ready, Kimosabe? Wait. Give me that other rope. Here it is. Keep an eye on those ropes. Make sure they don't snag after they go through the scrub. You can count on me. Good. Ready, Tonto? Lore away. Telled by the noose in the rope, we found the cliff above him. Silver was slowly lowering by stepping backward. The Lone Ranger braced his feet against the sheer wall of the cliff. In his hand, he carried the loop down to the second rope. For one breathless moment, it seemed that the lariat would be too short to reach the ledge in which the unconscious girl lay. Then the masked man's feet touched the narrow shaft. He bent carefully and slipped the second noose under the girl's armpits. The rope tauted. And at Tonto's signal, Scout hauled the slim and still a figure toward safety. While the Lone Ranger, hoisted by Silver, steered her clear of jagged rocks and scrubs. Take hold of Nancy with... She looks so pale. She isn't hurt badly. Come over and look at her, Tonto. Let me bring water. And be their face, maybe me see. What is it, Kimasabe? Bullet grazer. Bullet. But I didn't shoot to kill. I shot high, just to scare whoever it was in the high tail and to back down the trail. How many shots did you fire with? One. Though it echoed just like there were two. I see. Oh, she's coming around. She feel fine by and by. I mean, not fine broken bones anymore. Oh, there. Oh, there's the... Oyster hands. What's the fun? Nancy. Nancy. Where? Your daughter will be all right. No thanks to you. And you, young land-grabber, Mr. U-shirted. I couldn't have shot her, Mr. Hunt. I fired at her, didn't you? No, not directly. The story's too thin, young fellow. They're coming with me, Witt. The sheriff and Bear Ridge is mighty accommodating to Jensen too free and easy with her shooting irons. When he hears how you took a shot at a defenseless girl, well, you'll likely give you room and board for keeps. You smooth-tongued snake. I'll take my chances with the sheriff against yours any day. Witt. Oh, Nancy. Nancy, are you all right? Yes, I... I'm all right. Get away from my daughter, your crop-raising coyote. Dad, you... You can't say... It's no use arguing, Nancy. I aim to get rid of this and Nesta wants him for all. Get moving, you. I'm taking you into town the way a Nester ought to be took. On foot. Later that night, a masked man who wore a white hat and six guns hung low trailed Monk Myers from the jail to Cal Judson's office. As he crept closer, the door opened suddenly. Two men came out. The long ranger flattened himself in the shadows of a building as they strode toward a nearby barn. Then he stuffily followed suit. You'll find picks and shovels packing that toolbox, Monk. Some canvas bags, too, for loading the gold. Oh, everything ready and waiting. Okay. You must have anticipated this trip for some time. I don't leave anything to chance if that's what you mean. I'll harness the team to the buckboard. Make sure you don't forget the map. Got it in my pocket. Oh, steady there. Oh, now... That was a stroke of luck your trail and Nancy hunt up Rocky Patch tonight. Yeah, she was so anxious to see that Nester. She liked to bust a saddle girth riding up the path. Steady boy. Is that what changed your mind from drilling wit to framing him for shooting his girl? What do you mean? I hear you're pretty sweet on Nancy yourself. You hear too much, Cal. Creasing the girl's scalp was a mighty close shooting, Monk. Was it a dream for a solid hit and missed? Maybe it did. Maybe I didn't. But either way, Whit Saunders stood to be blamed for it. Yeah. The beauty of it is, he shot his rifle about the same time you shot yours. And a nasty man in the engine liked to arrive in time to ruin everything. You know, lucky I heard him coming after the shot and hitting the brush. And after they passed, you high-tailed it back down the trail to fetch Tom Hunt from the ranch. So he'd blame the Nester for shooting his daughter and clapping them in jail. Yeah, that's it. And Whit can't bother us while he's behind bars. We can dig up that yellow dust that's buried on his land and he'll never know the difference. Already with them tools, Monk? Yeah, yeah. Give me a hand and lift the box into the bucket. All right. Better take that lantern, too. We'll need light to see by when we dig. I got it. Let's climb up behind that team and get rolling. Well, here's to us, Monk. Here's to us and the golden journey. Hit it! A short time later, the Lone Ranger crept to the window of Tom Hunt's ranch house from the bar I've spread and looked in. Sitting in the parlor where Nancy now recovered from the shock of a recent ordeal and tonto whom she'd insisted accompanied her despite her father's objections. The masked man wraps softly on the window. You know who I am? Yes, I do. Me telling her, you friends. Where's your father, Nancy? He went upstairs. Good. We can talk without being overheard. Now, uh, how much does Whit's son does mean to you? I... Well, we talked of getting married, but when Dad found out Whit was homesteading on Rocky Patch, he was so furious... How did he find her? Monk Myers told him. I see. And now Whit's in jail for something... Whit didn't fire the shot for which he's being punished. Why? I know he didn't. He couldn't have. You can help prove his innocence. How can I help? Bring paper and pencil, Tonto. Quickly. We have a much time. Tom Hunt stormed into the sheriff's office. A hastily written note in Nancy's handwriting clenched in his fist. He thrust the note under the startled sheriff's nose. Where is she? Oh. My daughter, you can't find it fool. You've married him. Well... Nettie. Mashed. An engine. Reach for your guns. It's a hole up here. Keep your guns in leather, sheriff. We're not outlaws. Hmm. Got the drop on me. Maybe you're right. They're kidnappers. That's what they are. They kidnapped my daughter. That's not true. I'm here of my own free will. You... You can't mean what you say in this note. He ain't really going to marry Whit's on this. I certainly am. If you'll have me. Nancy. Did I hear you say... You mean... I'm asking you to marry me, Whit. Marry you? Oh, gosh, I... Oh, there would have to be sell bars between us at a time like this. Hey, something new daughter of mine is going to marry in this year. Let me... You'll do nothing, Dad. I'm 21 and there's nothing you can do to stop me. But... But it's in jail. There's no law that says a prisoner can't be married. Is there, Sheriff? Eh, let me see now. Eh, let me see. Nope. I don't know what it's ever been done, but there ain't no law getting it. You're a tongue wagging all of Mars, aren't you? Eh... A jailbird for a son-in-law. He doesn't have to be a jailbird, Dad. What do you mean? Well, you had Whit arrested. You can free him. Free that homestead in Maverick after he almost muddaged up there in the trail. My liar has fired that shot, Hunt. Eh? Then he rode to the ranch to bring you... It's true, Dad. I noticed that Monk was following me shortly before the bullet grazed me. Let him prove Monk did it. Free Whit and I'll give you further proof. Turn that land, grab and farm a loose so he can roost in the middle of my ranch. Is it better than my marrying a jailbird, Dad? Eh... Oh, boy, it's under Nancy here. Don't give me no choice. Unlock that cell, Sheriff. You loose judge, stove in bull-legged glute. Two men stood waist-deep in a hole. They had dug near the trail atop Rocky Patch, close to the spot where the lone ranger had rescued Nancy. The light of a lantern flickered over the faces of Monk Myers and Cal Judson and glinted in their shovels as they heaved fresh dirt from the pit. Yeah, sure. This is a spot, Cal. That's a spot marked on the map. We've dug deep enough to uncover ten cases of gold. Can't be buried much deep. Struck something. It's the case. Help me scrape the dirt away. Hey, give me that bar. I'll pry open the lid. Here. I told you it was here. Just look at that yellow dust, Monk. Must be worth more than $20,000. Yeah. And it's all ours. You're wrong. What the... Is that mask ready you mentioned? You're trespassing on Witsander's property. This gold belongs to him. Are you...? Don't try it. You won't use that hardware again, you poor cat. You're swaying me to run Witsander's off Rocky Patch so you can get your own or your fingers over some gold. Nancy wasn't here, Monk. I'd break every bone in your body for tying me up and burning my buildings and crops. You can't prove it. Yes, you can. And also that you tried to murder Nancy. That's a lie. You told Tom Hunt you heard the gunfire, Monk. How many shots were fired? I... One. The one that wounded the girl. And I remember it was followed by an echo. That's all I wanted here, Monk. You were under arrest. What do you mean, Sheriff? The masked man told me there were two shots fired. One on Wits and one by you. They were so close together they fooled Witt into thinking that yours was an echo. I don't see it. I listened when the masked man shot your gun on your hand. There weren't nothing following it, but dead silence. There ain't no echo here and never was. I'll see you there. Follow me. What you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.