 A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty high-o silver, the Lone Ranger. Hundreds and hundreds of stories have come out of the West concerning a phantom figure of the planes who rode in the cause of justice. A masked rider whose heroic deeds have lived down through the years as a symbol of the courage and spirit of the wild and untamed west of old. Listen to those silver shot hoops as they race down the hard pack roadbeds of yesteryear. The Lone Ranger rides again. Liquor smuggling had become a serious problem to the Border Patrol. The smugglers were too cunning to be captured, and though illegal liquor was known to be sold in the States, the source of supply could not be discovered. The first act of tonight's Lone Ranger drama opens in a cafe whose owner was suspected of doing business with the smugglers. Steve Brady, a member of the Border Patrol sent to investigate, is standing against the bar. I am told you was asking for me personally, stranger. That's right. Your name's Berkin, isn't it? Yep. You own this place? That's right. This ain't a bad grade of liquor you're selling here. Best I can get. I got something to tell you about that, Berkman. Suppose you step down to the end of the bar here where folks won't hear us talk. You're a downright mysterious action. What's it about? This way, so they can talk to you without three foot of bar between us. All right. Start talking. Where are you from and what's on your mind? Well, I'm from, ain't of special interest. But if you feel something poking into your stomach hard, it's the muzzle of a six-gun. What's the big idea? Stick up? Well, taint a stick up, Flint. You're coming with me for questioning. What do you mean? I reckon you know what I mean. The liquor you're selling here has been brought over from south of the border. I don't know where it comes from. I ain't the man to tell that to, Flint. You gotta tell it to my bosses. I always ordered to come here, find out what brands of liquor you sold and bring you in. Who fired that shot? Close the doors of this place and don't let no one out. The shot came from the door. We didn't see who fired it, but it's the sense he's not here now. Yeah, it comes from outside someplace, mister. Keep away from those doors. All of you. You can't order us around that away. I'm Sheriff here, and if there's any orders to be given, I'll give them strangers. I'm giving the orders, Chef. My name is Brady from the Border Patrol. Brady? Border Patrol? You're another one of them critters that come up here to find out where smuggle liquor's coming from, huh? That's right, Chef. This makes two men shot before they could tell. When we find the rats that are smuggling contraband liquor from the other side of the border, there's two murders for them to account for. You're making a mistake, Brady, keeping folks inside here. Yes? I was with the boys right here by the door. I swear the shot come from outside. Whoever fired it is a darn good shot, then. Yeah. That was a six-gun killed Flint Berkman, and it drilled him perfect. Whoever fired it is plenty far from here by now. All the deputies report for duty. We're organizing a posse right away. We'll get the coyotes. Now hold on. No interfere with the law, Brady. Read the rules and regulations of the Border Patrol, and you will find you're overstepping your authority and interfering with justice if you hinder us in searching for the killer of Flint Berkman. That's right. We're going out. Come on. Stand aside. We're leaving here, and we're hunting for the killer of our part. Come on, boys. The bossy organized by the sheriff to hunt for Berkman's murderer was divided and sent out to search the surrounding country. The sheriff and a few of his deputies rode out together. After a night of riding, they came upon a lone camper known as Cactus Pete. Whoa, whoa, there, whoa, there, boy. Keep your hands above your shoulders, mister. What the? What's this mean? It means we're hunting a killer. But don't go, mister. I ain't no killer. I'm Cactus Pete. I don't care who you are. Where are you from? Sharks. I ain't from no place in particular. I just traveled. Pretty sizable gun you're carrying there. Yeah. It ain't mine, though. It ain't yours. Hand it over. Let me see it. But, Sheriff, I... I'll take the gun. What did you say your name was? Cactus Pete, they call me. What's your real name? Pete Hawkins. Hmm, initials on this gun is T.W. That don't sound like Pete Hawkins to me. I told you the gun weren't mine. Where'd you get it? Oh, granted, if you were suspecting me of murder, you wouldn't believe me if I told you where I got it. I got it the same place I got these dog-gone oversized clothes I'm trying to wear. Where's that? Some ordinary coyote had come up to my camp here while I was sleeping and woke me up jabbing this year's six gun in my face. That's a likely story. Congratulations, Sheriff. It's a truth. Then what? He made me switch clothes with him. Took my guns, left their shooting iron. I ain't even any cartridges first. I reckon we got the right man, Sheriff. We'll take him in and see what he might know about Berkman's murder. Who? Berkman. You don't mean Flint Berkman. Oh, so you knew him, huh? I know plenty about Flint Berkman. Yeah? A dirty crook? He's been living on barred time a long while. I reckon that remark can be used again, eh, Sheriff? Used a plenty. You can't prove I was nowhere near his café. How'd you know he was shot in the café? I didn't put a... That's another point again, you mister. Look here, the only reason I figured he was shot in that café was because he's there most of the time. He lives upstairs, don't he? Yeah, he does. You know all about him, don't you? And you drill him. What do you do it for? What Berkman do to you? Doggone, I didn't shoot him. You know enough to warrant your arrest. And you lied about your name. I did not lie. I'm Cactus Pete, I tell you. How can you prove it? I can... I... Gosh, I... What proof you got that your name's Pete Hawkins? Sheriff, I reckon I ain't got no proof. Maybe you better take me to the jail, see what happens. Cactus Pete was returned to town and lodged in jail. The sheriff convinced the townspeople that his prisoner was the murderer of Berkman. And sentiment ran high against Pete. It was talk even of lynching. But the sheriff stopped it. There ain't to be no lynching boys. And I'm back in the sheriff. Any lynching mob that gets organized will have gun leads spread right into their midst. And we don't care who it hit. Now go back to your homes, fellas. They'll all take care of this matter. Sheriff Wright, fellas. Come on, let's get back. I reckon there won't be no more lynch talk. You reckon not, Sheriff. That's a blame-good thing. We have a lynching down here, it's a black mark against you. And we'd likely have the U.S. Marshal down here, along with a lot of their border patrol men. And that'd be a reflection on the way we handle law and order. Now stick on guard here. That's your will, Sheriff. I'm heading for home. It's been a busy day. Instead of going to his home, Sheriff Perkins went to the edge of town where the shadows of huge boulders concealed Steve Brady. Brady, though a member of the border patrol, had betrayed his trust and was in the pay of the smugglers. We hear him as he greets the sheriff. It took you long enough to get here. I've been waiting. Come as fast as I could, Brady. How's everything look? It's working out all right. The prisoner will swing for murder, as sure as my name's Perkins. How much does he know? Nothing. You sure that? Dead sure. He don't know a blame thing. Good enough. He'll have to face and question him, unless he can tell the more guilty he'll seem to be. Yep. It was sure a lucky thing he said what he did about Berkman. Give a movie for the murder. Yeah. And Berkman had to die. I suppose he did. Sooner or later, one of the other men from the patrol would get to questioning. He was yellow enough to squeal. He won't do no squealing now. But say, Steve, what about the real killer of Berkman? Dan Walters? He don't want? Sure. He does oldly killin' for our bunch. He got clear, then switched clothes with that hombre that says he's cack to speed. Here's what you gotta know. There was a shipment of liquor due to be brought across the border next week, but it's been held for a time. Till things quiet down around here. Yeah. There might be some strangers of the marshal here investigating that shooting. It's best to lay low for a time. I reckon so. Meanwhile, you keep the town quiet and see there's none of the smuggled liquor sold in the cafe. I don't see to that. Is that all? That's all. Then there's one thing I'd like to ask you, Brady. Well? Just who is the big boss of this gang? As far as you're concerned, I'm the boss. Who gives me orders neat and concern you. Nice, Savvy. You just tend your job and see that the prisoner pays for the murder. Then the shooting's cleared up and there won't be no more hurt from it. You leaving this section now? Not till after the question of prisoner. I'll do that in the morning. I gotta make a show doing my duty as one of the board of patrol. You'll be seeing me around tomorrow. I've told you all I know. And every word I said is the truth. Your story, don't hold water. It's as full of holes as a sieve. I can't help it if it don't sound true. Pete? Or whatever your name is. You admit knowing there's been smuggling going on. Everyone knows it. Oh, so you admit that? Yeah. And you were afraid Berkman would tell the names of those he bought liquor from, so you drilled him? That ain't true. Then why did you hate him so? Because he sold that liquor. He and all the rats at work with him didn't give a hang about the folks around here. All they cared about was selling liquor that had been smuggled in. They didn't care how rotten that liquor was. They didn't care how many families they wrecked with it. They sold it to whoever'd buy it. It didn't matter if there was white men or engines. Hmm, you seem to know a lot about it. Look here, Brady. Don't the way I feel about it show you I wouldn't have no hand in it. Makes me think you're a pretty good actor. That's what it does. If I could give you any help, I'd do it. Even if it meant I'd hang. I'd most be willing to be proved one of the gang. If by so doing you'd wipe the rest of them out. Very brave speeches, but they ain't gonna save you from the noose. There ain't but one thing that'd save your neck. Well? Name the rest of the men that are in the gang. Oh, I can't do it because I ain't in the gang. I don't know them. Gang's too clever for the law. They ain't but one power on earth I know of could clean them rats out. And what might that be? Well, I mean the Lone Ranger. I don't know how I'd do it, but he sure as thunder would do it. If only the Lone Ranger knows. The curtain falls on the first act of our thrilling Lone Ranger drama. Before the next exciting scenes, please permit us to pause for just a few moments. While in the first act of tonight's Lone Ranger drama, we learned that liquor smuggling was common along the border. Steve Brady, a dishonest member of the border patrol, was sent to investigate the situation. While he questioned Flint Berkman, who was suspected of selling illegal liquor, the cafe owner was shot and killed. The sheriff, another member of the smuggling gang, arrested Cactus Peep for the murder, though completely aware of his innocence. Now as our second act opens, we see the Lone Ranger and Tonto riding toward town. They walk their horses, and they walk their horses. They're riding toward town. They walk their horses, pausing frequently to permit Tonto to examine footprints on the ground. That's the trail of Cactus Peep, all right, Tonto. Uh-huh. Him, duck, hatch on boot. I remember it. Him, toe in, like ancient. Yes. Step, light on, left foot. His left leg is a bit stiff from an old wound. Ah, here, where, him, duck. Make him camp here and, uh... Tonto, something happened here. Ah, other feller come on horse, stop here, get off horse. Here, where Pete, get on horse, ride way. Other men came here later. Oh, Pete not ride horse. This not way him walk, but those are his boots. Ah, other feller wear Pete's boot. That accounts for it. Someone came here and forced Cactus Peep to change clothes with him. The stranger put on Pete's boots, then rode away. That's right. That can mean just one thing, Kimosabe. Someone who is dodging the law is riding away scot-free. While those other men who came here took Cactus Peep along with them. Tonto, one of us must follow the trail of the outlaw. The other must go to town and see how bad a spot our friend is in. Me? Me follow him, trail? To the north, and I'll head for town. Bring the outlaw back with you, Tonto. Tonto, get him. Get him off the trail. Cactus Peep held in jail a waiting trial, could see no hope for himself. He knew that Brady and the sheriff were determined to have him convicted as the murderer of Berkman. He knew also that the townspeople believed him guilty. Throughout the long hours of darkness, Pete had heard the steady footsteps of a guard, as he paced back and forth outside. Oh, but one man alive can help me. He'd know I'm one guilty. He'd believe me. There ain't no telling where he's at. If only someone would believe my story. I might get out and hunt for the real killer, but I won't as long as they're so sure I'm guilty. I could get to sleep, rat it. I need all my thinking for the trial. Hey, guard! What do you want? Come up to the window, won't you? I'm in close enough to hear you. What do you want? Can't you stop that pacing for a time? Or what? I can't sleep. You paced around like a cage lion, crunching your boots on the ground and... You'll get up plenty sleep before long, permanent sleep. I should have known better than to ask a favor of anyone in this town. Yeah, you should have known better. Killers ain't privileged, you ask no favors. Ain't there anyone alive who believes my story? Yes, there is. Quiet, guard. Take that gun out of my bag. I said keep quiet. It can't be. That voice. Mister. Mister, is it you? Make it easy, peace. Without hearing your story or knowing what it is, I believe you. You're a man! And you will be gagged if you don't keep your voice down. Mister, something told me you'd be coming here. Listen, let me tell you the whole story. There's no end to smuggling going on. When are you supposed to stand trial? I'll go to court in the morning, but I've already been tried and found guilty by everyone in town. Now what are you accused of? Murder. Killing Flint Berkman. Did the real killer make you change clothes? Yeah, he did. But how'd you know? Tonto and I found the tracks. Tonto was already headed north to overtake the man who made you change with him. He made me switch guns and everything. He did, eh? But mister, even if he's found, no one would think he was the killer. Listen, Pete, you'll have to stay here for a while. Aren't you going to lend me out? Not yet. What are you going to do? Get around the town and see what I can learn. I'm warning you, mister. You won't get out of town alive. You're an interfering with justice. What are you going to say I've done? Well, you pulled a gun on me. Did I harm you? No. Have I tried to help the prisoner escape? No, he ain't. Are you interested in seeing the right man punished? Well... Or are you in league with the plotters against law and order? No, I ain't. Liv Berkman was killed because he might have told where he bought contraband liquor. Yeah, I know. By finding the real murderer, we'll find the key to the liquor smuggling. But that man in the caliber... You heard what I said about reading the signs of the trail? Yeah. Why didn't the lawmen see what was so obvious? Huh? Is it because the lawmen themselves are in league with the smugglers? Pete. Yeah, mister? Who found you? Well, there were Sheriff Perkins and this year Guard and a couple others. You? Yeah, I was along. And you're going to tell me the truth? But I tell you... Is the sheriff bothered to examine the tracks? No, they didn't seem to be no need of it. Not even when Pete Hawkins told his story? No, mister. The sheriff and Steve Brady are the... Who is Steve Brady? He's from the Border Patrol. He was about to question Flint Berkman when Flint was shot. The Border Patrol? Yeah. I met some men from the patrol. That's how I knew all about the smuggling that's been going on. Hold on, mister. Well? Look here. I'm as set again the smuggler as any man can be. If that Sheriff Perkins is in cahoots with the smugglers and framing this man... Wait. This Guard, the sheriff. Steve Brady, deputies. Pete, I have an idea. Yeah? Have a long ride before morning. But Pete, don't lose your courage. Keep your chin up. Here's over. With you on my side, mister. I ain't wearing a dog-gone bit. Yep. Hang on! The Lone Ranger did not wait for Tondo to return. Instead, the masked man determined to act at once. He rode swiftly from the jail to the cafe. There, under cover of darkness, he spoke to two men standing outside. I'm looking for the home of Sheriff Perkins. Last house on this side of the road. I must also find each of the deputies and the Border Patrolman Steve Brady. When he had learned the facts he needed, the Lone Ranger was ready to put his daring plan into action. He rode first to the home of the sheriff. A moment later, the sheriff was awakened from a heavy sleep by the sound of a rock thrown through his window. What? What? Where's the match? Why did I pass into that rock? Something as sure as thunder do to happen. This lives, Silver O'Boy. And here's the rock for it. What's the matter? I've come to tell you something. Great Scotch, you're masked. Where'd you come from? How'd you find me? I'm here to help you. You want the truth about the liquor smugglers, don't you? What? There's a man in jail for murder. Yes, but who are you? I'm trying to help you in the Border Patrol put a stop to liquor smuggling by finding the real murderers of Flint Berkman. Oh, yeah, you are, huh? Hey, you're the man the prisoner spoke of. Am I? What do you know about the smuggling? Nothing yet. But before daybreak I'll have the whole truth for you. Yeah, you will. How? I've sent a note to the sheriff and all his deputies. What for? Brady, now listen so you'll understand the plan. Yeah. I know the sheriff and some of his men are working hand in glove with the smugglers. You know that? Yes. Who else? I don't know, but I do know Sheriff Perkins is a coward at heart. If he can be arrested with the proof that he's with the smugglers, he'll talk. Yeah, he struck me as a coward. Now then. But hold on, how do you prove these men are working with the liquor smugglers? I've sent a note to each of them. The note is worded in such a way that if they are in with the smugglers they'll go to a meeting place at daybreak. But if they're not, they'll not know what the note means. Aye, savvy. Those that go to the meeting place will prove themselves guilty. Yes, and the United States Marshal and your border patrol will be there to get them. Time to go get my parts of the patrol, eh? No, I ain't. I'll take care of them. You go directly to the meeting place. Where is it? The old Arroyo near the dead cedar. There are good places to hide on the side of the Arroyo. Where do you be between now and then? Riding. For the border patrol, eh? Brady saddled his horse, then rode toward town in the home of Sheriff Perkins. There he dismounted and shortly afterwards, pounded on the lawman's door, awakening the Sheriff for the second time that night. The man gets sleep when he's got to get up before daybreak. Eh, who's there? Is that you, Brady? What are you doing here? Well, come in and shut the door. I'm glad you come. I wanted to see you. Listen, an hour ago, a rock came through that window. I know, there was a note on it. Well, how do you know? This will give you a laugh. The mask man that sent the note came to me and told me how it was a trap for you and the deputies. Yeah, a trap. Sure. Then the big boss ain't called to meetin' at all? No. I ain't to go to the Arroyo at daybreak. You go and it serves as proof that you're in with the smugglers. Nice. He told me how he'd set the trap. Yeah. You've got to tell the rest of the boys not to go there. Yeah. I'd better go get them out of bed right now and tell them. Who do you have to tell? All of them. Snead, Miller, Lacey and Stone. What about the guard at the jail tonight? He's one of the deputies that don't figure in our game. You tend to the telling of the rest? Yeah. You're dead sure the whole thing was a fake? Sure it was. And if we go to the Arroyo, we show that we're with the smugglers. You've already shown it. What? There, at the busted window. You're coming. Don't move. Are you? Get the gun, Sam. The marshal. You're done right. Look here, I'm a border patrolman. Not no more, you ain't. You're an ordinary smuggler. It's a trick. Did you hear enough, marshal? All we needed here, Hank, take a couple of the boys and get them deputies. All right, marshal. It's a frame-up, an honorary frame-up. You said you was going for my men. And you thought you'd be safe coming here to warn the sheriff. Well, Brady, that's just what you were expected to do. Mister, Tana has come with a killer. For that man's a prisoner. Yeah, like fun. The guard let me out when Tana showed him how that killer swapped clothes with me. The guard believed your story then, Pete? He had to. You should have seen that killer's feet all cramped up by trying to wear my boots. That proved my story. Let me talk, marshal. You were talking to the judge and jury. Maybe you can save your neck by giving names. He can't give the names of the bosses, but I can. Marshal, let me talk. Marshal, you'll get all the evidence, I promise you, if you'll bring some honest men and help me. I sure Thunder will. Tana, I'll meet you at the camp. I told you. I told you he could do it. I know! What you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.