 P.O.S.T. P.O.S.T. Post. The serials you like the most brings you the Roy Rogers show, starring the king of the cowboys himself, Roy Rogers. It's roundup. Time on the double-R bar. So settle your horse, cause we're going to ride far. The double-R bar rash transcribes stories and songs of the real West with the whipperwills, the wisest trail scout of them all, Jonah Wild, played by Forrest Lewis, the Queen of the West, Dale Evans, and in person, the king of the cowboys, Roy Rogers. Well, howdy, folks. This is Roy Rogers. Buckaroos, aren't you glad now that you got your mom to put post serials on the shelf? You just bet you are. And take my word for it, anything bearing the brand-name P.O.S.T. is good. Well, sir, we're on the alert out here in Paradise Valley, Buckaroos. Somebody's been passing a lot of counterfeit money. And it's mighty serious to a man when he finds the money he's earned and needs as counterfeit. We're after the counterfeiters, and we're going to get them before we're through. This whole territory will be broke pretty soon, Sheriff, unless somebody catches up with those counterfeiters. You don't need to tell that to me, Dale. I know it all too well. Well, the federal men seem to think they know who's passing it. Well, they know of one gang that sometimes floods a single territory with bad money, and instead of distributing it over a wide area, but there's no evidence to connect the gang with our trouble. Well, I don't see how so much bad money could have been passed. So, hey, listen. Trouble? Sounds like a fight. It's coming from across the street, Dick Wiley's place. I'll see you later, Dale. Listen, there's some bad hombres hanging out at Wiley's place, Sheriff. That's why I'm going over. Roy and Jonah are over at the blacksmith's shop. I'll go get them. You may need some help. No, it was counterfeit. Turn that man over to me. Hey, Jonah, the sheriff's in trouble. Yeah, well, what's he expect? Poke his nose into a place like this. A lady serving tea and curled a little thing here. Roy, it's Ed, hobbler. These owl-hoats are holding it. Simmer down here. Let me go. Well, don't make us go for our guns. Let him go, Red. Hobbler, walk this way toward us. Hey, Sheriff, why don't you get a job garden silverware at a high society wedding or something? Then you wouldn't run into this rough stuff. Over here, Ed. I would if I knew for certain. And I wouldn't meet a spavin' ex-private from General T.K. Rose Army. Well, don't you call me spavin'. Hold it, Jonah. Well, I got as smooth a pair of hawks as there is in the country. And as pretty, too. All right, Ed. I wanted to pay a debt of old Dick Wiley. I didn't know the money I gave him was counterfeit. Move on outside, Ed. I defy anybody to find the spavin' on my hawks. I say anybody. Take Ed to your office, Sheriff. Jonah and I will back through this door behind you and see that there's no interference. The law has to handle men trying to pass bad money, not our hoots. Sheriff, I tell you, I didn't know my money was bad. I've never been in trouble, not in all the time I've lived here. Where'd you get this money, Ed? It's a small time, Sheriff, asking questions like a detective to cover up. He's got a shock of a brain, poo. I say, poo, poo, poo. Come on, Ed. We want the truth. Where'd you get it? Working. That money was in the pay envelope. I got it from Mitchell Ice Company. I swear it was. You want to hold Ed, Sheriff? I'll have to, until the federal man have talked to him. No, please. I got regular antelope hocks. That's all right, Ed. While you're waiting here, Jonah and I will go over and see how the Mitchell Ice Company handles their payroll. Roger, nobody in the world has got a right to ask me how I handle my payroll. I absolutely refuse to answer. Roy, this fellow may have to be put with the awkward squad. There's the door. Come back again when you want to do business, but not ask questions. OK, Jim. You can expect a visit from the federal men before the day's over. Come on, Jonah. Yeah. Confidential, Roy. I think I've seen this fellow fighting on the side of the Indians in the Battle of Crow Canyon. Wait a minute, Roger. What was that you said about federal men? Ed Hobbler claims he got counterfeit money in his pay envelope. That's impossible. Only one man beside myself has access to the money, Milkeebler. And he's been with my company for almost 16 years. Would you mind sending for Milk now so we can talk to him? Well, he's not here. Milson's quag rick. Getting money for this week's payroll, huh? Well, yes. That's what he's doing. I wonder if, say, Jim, as a businessman, you're as anxious to trace this counterfeit as we are. Would you mind if we wait here until Milk gets back so we can have a look at the money he brings for the payroll? All right, Rogers. I don't like it, but I guess your plan is best. Me, spavant. Well, thanks, Jim. No matter how this works out, you're saving your community a lot of time and tracking down some bad hombres. As Roy and John await in Jim Mitchell's office, a lone horseman is riding toward Mineral City from Squaw Creek. Near Rocky Gulch, he looks about quickly and turns off the trail, goes through a line of huge boulders toward a ramshackle cabin that stands half hidden among the pine trees. There, the man stops his horse, dismounts, and looks about. He's tense. His eyes scan the country from every side, rocks, trees, shadows. And then, satisfied, he takes a leather bag from his saddle and walks toward the cabin. A quality of intense fear is on his face. He keeps looking over his shoulder, as though afraid of being followed. He reaches the cabin, pushes the door open, then waits while his eyes grow accustomed to the dark interior. A voice comes to him. Come on in. I've been waiting for you, Milk. Milk, the horseman is Milk Keepler, with a leather bag must contain the Mitchell Ice Company payroll. Milk steps inside the cabin and closes the door. What's the matter, Milton? You're not saying anything. Well, hurry up, Sales. You get the counterfeit ready? Sure. Sales, I'm quitting after this trip. I've had enough. You're going on, and you're not giving us away, Milk. We're treating you right. You get your cut, and we don't send you back with all counterfeit. We just substitute a fifth of the good money with bail. Sales, I tell you, I can't. $500 is good money for dropping in here a few minutes every trip. The boys and I don't make that much a piece. We're treating you good. You're not as much danger as I am if the counterfeit is traced. You have time to get out, Milk. There you are. I've switched to a fifth of the money. See you next trip. There won't be any next trip. I'm quitting before I... Milk! What? You're forgetting your cut. Don't you want this $500? No! No, I'm through! I'm finished with this! Milk leaves the cabin to continue his ride towards Mineral City. As soon as he's out of sight, a man in the cabin, the one called Sales, steps through the door at the back of the cabin where three henchmen have been hiding. Lawless, evil men. We'd better follow Kebler. He's scared. When a man gets scared in this racket, he needs watching. Climb on your horses! Milk Kebler has written directly at the Mitchell Ice Company plant and is walking down the corridor toward his own office. He's relieved because he's made what he believes as his last trip to Squaw Creek. As far as having anything to do with counterfeit money is concerned. He does not know he's being followed. He does not know visitors are waiting for him in his office. He opens the door. Who's there? Come in, Milk. Come in. It's all right. Is anything wrong, Mr. Mitchell? No, no, of course not. Oh, you've met Roy Rogers and June the Wild, haven't you, Milk? Sure, we know, Milk, for a long time. Yes, ever since I retired from the army after fighting 10 or 11 wars. Well, you aren't waiting here to see me. Are you all right? Yes, Milk, we are. A man who works here was caught trying to pass counterfeit money. He claims he got in his pay envelope. That couldn't be, unless the bank gave counterfeit money to us. We'd like to be able to stop any accusations that might be made against you, Milk. Yeah, sure to prove you ain't in league with no on-legal operators. A ounce of prevention is worth a rose by any other name. Milk, if you'll open that leather bag, we'll take a look at the money you brought back from Squaw Creek. Well, there's no reason to examine this money. Eh? Which matter, Milk? You ain't scared, are you? We want to clear you as far as the federal men are concerned, that's all. You put the money in the bag, kid. Go ahead, Milk, and open it. I'm here to back you up. I'll stand by you. Unbuckle the straps on the bag. Well, all right, Mr. Mitchell, I... Hey, hey! Shot! Milk! Milk! That shot came through this window, Jonah. Yeah, Milk hit Roy. He's hurt bad. Yeah, I know. The shot didn't come by accident either. When we open the bag, we'll probably know why. Here's exciting news for all you buckaroos. It's news of that thrilling and popular club, the Roy Rogers Riders Club. I know each and every one of you will want to join up right away. Why, maybe you'll be one of the very first official members from your neighborhood. Now, in just a little while, Roy himself is going to tell you all about what his Roy Rogers Riders Club stands for, and how much fun it is to belong. You'll find out too how easy it is for you to join. So get your pencil and paper, and be ready for the big news right after we hear the rest of our exciting adventure. The only clue as to how Paradise Valley is being flooded with counterfeit money came when Ed Hobbler was caught trying to pass some and claimed he got it in his pay envelope at the Mitchell Ice Company. Roy and Jonah waited for Milt Kiebler, the company cashier, to bring the new payroll from the bank at Squaw Creek. When he arrived, they asked permission to examine the money. Milt reluctantly began opening his money bag. A shot rang out, and Milt fell to the floor. The shot came through this window, but there's nobody on the street, nobody at all. Must have been done by a sharpshooter, Roy. Milt, Milt. Roy, come here. Milt's still alive, he's trying to say something. What is it, Milt? What do you want to, what do you want us to know? What? Say it again, Milt. Hey, sounded to me like a name of some kind, Roy. Yeah, sales. Hey, there's a nandy sale staying over at the boarding house. Hey, look at Milt, will you? I better run over and get to dark. Too late, Jonah. Dark can't help this now. I heard a shot, and I knew you and Jonah. Milt, Kepler. Somebody fired a shot through the window, Dale. But why? Why would anyone want to shoot Milt? He may be involved in counterfeiting. Jim, let's take a look at that money Milt was carrying. Milt couldn't have been mixed up with counterfeiters. Nobody'll ever make me believe that. Oh, no, of course not. Here, I'll help you get that thing unbuckled, Roy. Well, if you're, you know, Corporal Dumfie carried a bag like this all through the Sandy Hills campaign. The poor fellow trudged clear across the wastelands, carrying that bag. Felt sorry for him. I'll get this buckle, Jonah. And not until the war was over did anybody find out what was in it. And then only me, Corporal Dumfie, told me with tears in his eyes. Well, what was in it? Socks, Dale. Yes, sir, socks, dozens of them. You see, Corporal Dumfie had a sweetheart, and she had a mortal fear of his being shot in the doctor's finding, and he was wearing second day socks at the time. So every day, she'd need a new pair and send them to him. Frieda the Fiend was her name. Frieda the Fiend? Uh-huh. She was a big dog. Hey, look here. What is it, Roy? Counterfeit money. It can't be, Roy. You're mistaken. Two bundles out of the tin. The other eight are good. Is Milkebler over? Excuse me. We're pretty busy now, Mr. Saiders. Just a minute, Jim. Come on in, sales. You are Andy sales, aren't you? Yeah, but I was looking for Milkebler. He and I, what happened here? Sales, Milke mentioned your name as he died. My name? What did he say about me? Nothing. He just called your name. Oh. Well, we were pretty good friends. It may be. Well, if you were good friends, you probably knew that he was mixed up with a gang of counterfeiters. Yes, I did. I knew it. I'd have staked my life, he wasn't. I begged him to quit. He'd promised me that this would be the last time he'd have any dealings with him. And, well, the reason I came here now is to protect him this time. I didn't want him to take another chance. Well, see, I brought 2,000 in cash of my own money to replace the counterfeit I knew Milke would have. Sales, how much do you know about the gang Milke was working with? So I can take you to him right now, I think, under certain conditions. What do you mean, certain conditions? The gang is suspicious. You know that from what's just happened. They're tricking me. They've got eyes and ears everywhere. And I don't want them to spot me talking to any lawmen. So if I take you to him, we'll leave right from here, all of us. Me, law will go. Nobody stays behind to tell the federal men to trail me. The gang knows the federal men. Well, how about it? We'll meet your condition, sales. Our horses are outside. Let's get started. And these sales twisted, scheming brain has sized up the situation well. These four, Roy, Dale, Jonah, and Jim Mitchell are the only people who know Milkebler was killed in connection with the counterfeiters. They must be led away, disposed of in such a manner that they can never tell what they know. Then there will be no evidence, for sales gathered up the counterfeit bills when he replaced them with the good money from his own pocket. Now sales is leading them along the trail to Squaw Creek. They're nearing Rocky Gulch. Hey, sales, just a minute. What's the matter? Pull up your horses. We're stopping here. Easy, buttermilk. Oh, boy. Anything wrong, Rogers? Yeah, considerable. Well, you're not backing down, are you? I hope not, because. No, we're not backing down. But I think we've gone far enough on your say so. We've got a right to know where we're going. Yeah, I said that to General Thomas Kenneth Rowe once and got court martial. Well, we're almost there, Rogers. It's not much further. Just a little way. Roy, speaking for all of the sales, we insist on knowing where we're headed. Well, I'm a little bit sorry to hear you put it that way. I thought you had more trust. Are we going to find out or not? Sure, I don't mind telling you. There's a hideaway cabin back in among these boulders. It's in a good spot, right under the pine trees. That's where the gang stays. No, we're getting somewhere. Then why all a fuss about not telling us? The way I got things planned, the best thing is for me to ride in and see if the gang is there. If it is, I'll let you know and we can take over. OK, go ahead. Wait right here. I'll size up the situation and then we'll know how to go after them. Roy, I got a feeling we're letting the enemy escape. He shouldn't go alone, Roy. He may need protection. He's not going alone. I'll follow him. But by myself, if all of us went, we'd be heard. And as far as protection goes, I think I can protect sales if he needs protection. Roy and Trigger follow sales as he leaves the trail and rides through the boulders strewn gulch toward a ramshackle cabin. Sales stops in front of the cabin, and Roy stops too, but some distance away. He watches, concealed by the pine trees. Sales goes into the cabin, then closes the door. Roy waits. His suspicions are aroused now. This cabin is supposed to be the gang's hideout, yet sales went directly inside. And Roy can only watch. He has no way of knowing what is taking place in the cabin. He didn't do a good job with that rifle. Milt Kiebler lived a while. Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute, listen to me. I haven't got much time. Milt mentioned my name. He may have said a lot more, but if he did, only four people know about it, and I've got those four with me outside. We're too near the main trail to do any shooting here. But you fellas take the shortcut to last chance mine. I'll bring them there. Wait in the back chamber with your guns ready. I'll send them in. The light will be behind them. They'll make good targets, and we'll get them fast before they have a chance to see the equipment that's stored there. Roy, still watching, sees Andy's sales come out of the cabin, and he sees something more, something that surprises him. Three men follow sales and stand in the open door, bidding him goodbye. Roy rides back to the trail where Dale and Jonah are waiting with Jim Mitchell. Whoa, trigger. Easy, fella. What is it, Roy? Is something wrong? Hey, what did you find out, Rogers? Dale, you'd better head for town. The gang's in that cabin. Get the sheriff and tell him to pick up the federal men and ride out here. Maybe you'd better bring bullet, too. The gang didn't get sales? I think he's in league with them. I'll bring a posse back right away. Oh, what do we want with the sheriff, Roy? What does he know? Now, Jonah, the sheriffs are pretty fair law officer, even if he isn't a good judge of spathons. Well, it ain't no laugh and matter to me. Hey, here come sales, Roy. My hawks is a matter of personal pride. Well, let sales take the lead, Mitchell. I went to the hideout, Roy, and wait a minute. What's happened to the girl? I sent her for a posse. A posse? You sent for a posse? That's all right, isn't it? Well, yeah, sure. But I'm afraid the posse will be coming to the wrong place. The gang isn't here. Oh, is that so? No, but don't worry. I know where to find them. They have to be in one or two places, either here or at last chance mine. I see. You'll be taking us up there. Then is that right, sales? Yeah. I'm sorry your posse will have this trep for nothing. Yeah, I am too. Maybe we won't need a posse. I know pretty well what we're up against now. It doesn't make much difference where we take them, here or somewhere else. Have you got that pencil and paper ready? Well, hold on. Here comes a special surprise for you from Roy Rogers himself. Howdy, friends. This is Roy Rogers. I'm especially pleased to be able to extend a personal invitation to you from Dale, Trigger, and myself. We'd be mighty proud to have you become a member of our Writers Club. Maybe you've heard about our Writers Club already. We've got several million members throughout the country, and our aim is to bring you lots of fun through honesty, loyalty, and friendship. And I'm sure you'll gain a lot of fun being one of our members. Of course, you'll get a beautiful membership card entitling it to all the rights and privileges as a Writers Club member. And you'll get an official badge to wear too. Here's the big surprise. Every single member gets a big 16-page comic book in full color. This is our official Roy Rogers Writers Club book. It's packed with adventure about Dale, Trigger, Bullet, and me. And oh, yes, you'll get a full color autographed picture of Trigger and me. We'd be mighty proud to have you become a member. And if you'd like to be one, here are the details on how to join. Yes, friends, card, badge, comic book, and picture. All yours when you join the Roy Rogers Writers Club. And to become a member is so easy. Just take the top from one regular-sized package of any of the swell-tasting post-serials. Mail the box top with only $0.10 and your name and address to post P-O-S-T, box 7767, Chicago 77, Illinois. Now write that down while you remember it. That's post box 7767, Chicago 77, Illinois. That's all there is to it. Just one post-serials box top, one dime, your name and address, and you're a member of the Roy Rogers Writers Club. Have fun. Join up today. Been a long time since I was in my last chance of mine. The back chamber, Roy. This is no place for a Calvary soldier. It's dark. I can't see the plate-taker rocks. I'm twisting my ankles every which way. I agree with you perfectly, Jonah. And further, I might bruise my hocks. And then a spab and wood develop. There's a fire door. The hideout is just back to me. Even in the almost total darkness of the tunnel, the outlines of the fire door can be seen. Roy studies it a minute, unknowing that it hides three men, guns in hand, ready to kill. All right, sales. You said you knew how to open the door. The latch, raise it. That trips a burner inside. Go ahead. We're ready. You do it, Roy. Open the door, I said. All right. I can't, Roy, hear you? What are you backing up against the wall for? All right. I know you're tricking us, sales. I saw you talking with the men back at Rocky Gulls. Now open that door. I can't open it. I can't. I'll be killed if I do. That's what I thought. But we'll still get this gang. Hedge him, hold our double crossing friend. Keep back out of the way, Jonah. You ain't going to open the door yourself, Roy. I sure am. Fast like this. Hold it, Jonah. Don't shoot back, Duran, Sneege. Come on, we're moving in on it. Making no sound, Roy and Jonah creep into the black chamber of the mine, moving only an inch or two at a time, but getting nearer, nearer. Slip now, the slightest noise, and death will be sure and quick. Roy and Jonah are in the chamber with the killers, close to them, almost touching. All right, Jonah, let's take them. Roy and Jonah leap at their feet, striking out fast. The startled killers cry out in alarm. Their voice is giving Roy and Jonah their locations. One goes down, another, and a third. But the killers are cruel. Strike a mess, Jonah, so we can see how to drag these rattlers out of here. The prisoners are taken outside the tunnel. Sales alone is conscious, and he half-historically confesses his part in passing the bad money under the murder of milk keeper. Roy turns the prisoners over to the sheriff who is waiting with his posse. If it hadn't been for bullet, we'd never have been able to find your trail, Roy. Right now, I wouldn't take a million dollars for that dog. You're a real partner, bullet. Well, we've got this gang anyhow, Sheriff. People in Paradise Valley can rest a little easier tonight. I'll say they can, Roy. I'm only sorry my company had to be involved, even innocently. Oh, shucks, we got our lead from your company, or our intelligence. As General Thomas Kenneth Rowe would say. There's that General T.K. Rowe again. And I will. Well, Jonah, what happened to you? Yeah, I've been in a battle, that's what. And I'll probably look at two. One pants leg tore clean off. I should say you're doodling. Oh, Jonah. Hey, your hawks are sure exposed. Yeah, well, I do. All right, come here, you tin-starred baritone. Now, let Roy and Jim Mitchell hold the outlaws. I want you to examine my hawks inch by inch and see if you find the least sign of any spaving. Well, no. Damn hawks is as full blossomed and as clean cut as it is. Jonah, what in the world are those things? Oh, them socks. But they're made of lace. Who ever heard of lace socks? Well, nobody much. They're very rare. See, they're very rare. You see, Corporal Dumpfey had too many. Frida the Fiend knitted him a pair every day, so he gave me some. And I've been well supplied ever since. But why lace? Well, of course, Frida the Fiend knitted him that way. You see, Frida was a Fiend for face error. And with her, everything had to be ventilated. She had a great place to live. Hey, Sheriff, let's get out of here. I wish I'd never come. Yeah, poor Frida. Her hat slipped down over her face one day, and she suffocated to death. Roy, I'm gonna scalp him. Now, hold on now, Sheriff. Yes, I am. Oh, God, you can't do this. Jonah's my sidekick. And besides, if you did that, Jonah would look like Slick Popsu. I want some black eyed peas. I want some mustard greens. I want some cornpone on the side. I want my chicken fried with a golden hide. Oh, now don't you say I'm silly, cause I like my chili all over my scrambled eggs. I want a goat to Dallas, see my cousin Alice. Ah-ha! San Antonio. I want to see a blue bonnet with some Texas sunshine on it. Now, there's a place that's dandy by the Rio Grande, just across from Mexico. I want an enchilada and a bacon toast daughter. Ah-ha! San Antonio. Say, I believe to see I'm a la joven. I can your caro en obedovedad. In the mundo, you ding una rosa. Con el tempo, you voy a cutar. Say, I believe to see tuero con otro. Le hice querida los huellos en cesar. Por vapor, si tú queras te quiera. Por ti era ir en un trin milita. Allá en el rancho grande ella donde viví. Avio en un rancho ahorita. Que alegre me decía. Que alegre me decía. Le voy a hacer tus calzones. Como los jus a ranchero. De los comienzo de la nada. El asacado de cuero. This is Roy Rogers saying to all of you from all of us, goodbye, good luck, and may the good lord take a liking to you. See you next week. Happy trend. Roger's show is brought to you by Post Serials, each week at this same time, with the Whipperwills, Forrest Lewis, Dale Evans, and the king of the cowboys himself, Roy Rogers. An art brush production transcribed, directed by Tom Hargis, script by Ray Wilson, music by Milton Charles. Featured in today's cast were Frank Hemingway, Herb Butterfield, Pat McGeehan, and Howard McNeer. This is Art Ballinger speaking for P.O.S.T. Post Serials. Happy trails to you, until we meet again. Happy trails, keep smiling. Who cares about the clouds if we're together? Just sing a song and bring the sunny weather. Happy trails.