 A horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hyose silver! The long ranger! Full Indian companion puddle, 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. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. From out of the past come the thundering hoof beats of the great horse, Silver! The long ranger rides again! Come on, Silver! Let's go before... Uncle Homer Potts came out of the stable behind the Henry House in Modoc City. A little New Yorker who had gone western by marrying Ma Hank, the huge landlady of the hotel, was leading a saddled draft horse. With mock dignity, he called out, My lady, your steed awaits you. Ma was on the back porch, the elevation of which made it easier for her to mount. She pretended anger. Oh, Ma, I flew off! Oh, I reckon the back slid. Well, woman, here's your horse. Oh, that's better. Steady, puttin' foot. Puttin' foot said, oh, my back. The ornery critter. The next time I get me a horse, it's gonna be a Camel. A Camel, Ma? You know, I've heard that those animals kneel down when you want to climb on board. Say, uh, are you going to be gone long? Yeah, most of the day. I aim to look after some sick and needy folks. While you're gone, I'll ride over to Fort Belmont. What on earth for? The army's having an auction on some stuff it doesn't want. Thunderation and auction sale, and I'll miss it. If you went, you'd likely get stuck with a busted cannon. Mind that iron deer you bought one time? Well, the thing helped the Lone Ranger catch two killers. But, like the fellow says, arguments never get you anywhere. No. And I've got places to go, so get up, puttin' foot. Goodbye, Ma. Adios. As Ma Hank and Homer went their separate ways, the Lone Ranger and Tuttle rolled slowly through the burning sands of furnace flats. The desert trail which they were following eastward toward the mountains and Modoc City. More the tracks of wagons, oxen, and horses. Tuttle looked at the signs and observed. Maybe we catch up with wagon train today. Our hunt for Flint Carson may not end when we overtake the wagon. Why you say that? All we know is that a man answering Carson's description left California with a wagon train down to the east. We may be following the wrong man or the wrong outfit. Carson has contacts with many different gangs. Oh, he keeps moving. After planning a crime, he gets local outlaws to help him carry it out. Then he travels on. Later that day, Uncle Homer stood in the front rank of a crowd gathered outside the stables at Port Belmont. So far, the auctioneer had sold only Civil War muskets, old McClellan saddles, lame horses, and mules grown gray with age. Fits had been few and low. As some of the people began to move away, the sale choir shot at you. Don't go away, gents. I'm about to offer you the opportunity of your lives. Sergeant, bring out Sir Robin Ruskin. Here they are, gents, two camels. The sole survivors of the famous Camel Corps that once patrolled the southwest, making it safe for immigrants. Well, there, are you trying to knock this sale? You've heard from Johnny Knoweth all, gents. Now I'm putting Sarab on the block. Who'll give me a bid? What? No bidders? Look, I'll throw in the saddle. Now what do I hear? Gents, this beautiful beast is well broken. He answers to army commands. He's just sturdy as an elephant. Gentle as a lamb. Oh! They must be gotten from at Bethany. Homer Potts, you're a friend of mine. Give me a bid of $20 to start it off. Well, $20. So, to Mr. Homer Potts of Modoc City. Oh, hey, that wasn't fair. Look, Homer, just to keep your good will, I'll give you both camels for the price of one. Now pay the clerk and get the concerned critters out of here. At that moment, a score of heavily armed men were camped in the foothills south of Furnace Flats. They were the dregs of the desert country. Some Americans, some Mexicans, the others renegade Apaches. As they cleaned their guns and honed buoy knives on their bootlegs, a solitary rider approached. Hook Taylor, the gang leader, exclaimed, Hey, that's Flint. He's coming in. Well, much time we have waited for him. Howdy, Flint. Well, Hook, I... See, you got the gang together? Yeah, rounded up the boys as soon as I read your letter about the wagon train. Yeah, I traveled with it long enough to size up the situation. Where's it now, Flint? Halfway across the desert on the Modoc City train. Uh-huh. How many in the party? 47 all cold. 30 of them are women and kids. Yeah, that still leaves almost as many manors out, gunny. How much money you reckon they're carrying? Plenty. That's why they're leaving the West. Those fellas own good property and sold for cash before they started east. Are they fixed for guns? Oh, they're well supplied. And they're being cautioned. There's plenty. There's a place on the Flats where we can ambush them. We attack them in the open, they might beat us off. Yeah. I thought of that. So? Oh, you do what, senor Flint? Ah, poison, the only water hole between them and the foothills this side of Modoc City. Oh, I know that water hole. It's called Salvation Well. I filled two saddlebags with the deadliest stuff I could find. Last night I rode on ahead of the outfit. Jump the poison into the water and head it for this place. You're local if you think all those people will drink out of the hole and die. Look, I don't figure on that at all. There's water now. And their horses and oxen are mighty thirsty. The animals are sure to stampede the hole. The poison will kill them. That'll leave the people stranded. Sure. Now get ready to ride. Take along plenty of water and grub. You may not be able to shoot those people without getting hit ourselves. In that case, we'll simply wait for them to die at first or surrender. It was several hours later when Uncle Homer appeared at the end of Modoc City's main street in Camels. An idler outside the nugget cafe was the first person to see them. He stuck his head through the bat-wing doors and yelled... Outside, everybody! Come and run him! Hey, look, coming down the street! You see those animals? I see them, but I still don't believe there are any such critters. Who's that little fellow on top of us? Uncle Homer Potts! Just then, a stray dog psyched the alien beasts and ran into the street barking furiously. Both Camels lowered their heads, the dog turned tail and fled in terror. Uncle Homer sawed on Saurabh's reins. Saurabh! Saurabh! Saurabh! The other camel had broken loose. It was hotly pursuing the dog. The onlookers in front of the nugget cafe dove back through the doors. A dozen horses hitched to nearby posts and rails, broke their tie straps and galloped off. A mule train which was being loaded in front of a miner's supply store joined in the stampede, on the street. At the same time, the riderless camel chased the dog into Schultz's variety store, creating more havoc than the proverbial bull in a china shop. As it emerged with a suit of red flannel underwear draped around its neck, Uncle Homer grabbed the dangling rain and shot it. Now, come on, Rustam! Forward, Saurabh! Meanwhile, about 12 hours traveled from Modak City. The lone ranger and topple came to the top of a rise in the desert trail. Look, Kemal Sabi. Wacken Cain, just ahead. Yes, it stopped at Salvation Well. That's something wrong. All their oxen and horses are lying down around the waterhole. They see us. I must point guns this way. Hold your fire, my friends! Come here with your hand, sir. All right, pose over home. He's an hour-hoop, Cap. Let's take the horses and send for help. Bloody men, we're not outlaws. What happened to animals? They're all dead. Poisoned. That water killed them. You're in a desperate situation. As he spoke, the masked man studied the stranded travelers. None of the men fitted the description of Flint Carson. The wagons appeared to hold only women and children. He continued, You never get out of this desert on foot with your families. We know it. I take it that you're the wagon master. That's right. I'm Cap Morse. Dave Brewster here, second in charge. Did any of you people drink from Salvation Well? No, we didn't. We didn't drink from the mouthful, but spit it right out. Tastes like alkali to me. That didn't keep the animals from filling up. They'd been without water so long, they ran to the whole of Susby on hitch. There are deposits of a deadly alkaloid in the mountains that sometimes washes into water holes. Salvation Well is on the map as being pure. They became poison during the last day or so. Otherwise, you'd see the carcasses of wild animals lying around it. Boy, some do that so. Maybe somebody put poison in it. Cap, when you left California, did you have among your men a six-footer with drooping eyelids, gold teeth, a tattooed star on his right hand? Yeah, he disappeared from camp last night. Ah, him must be Clint Carlton. Ah, he said his name was Miller. Who's Carlton? The most vicious robber and murderer in the West. My friend and I have been hunting him. Oh, that's how it is. Tracks of his horse showed he went on ahead of us. He must have been here this morning. And that explains the poison. Why would he do such a thing, mister? If he had gone back east with fortune, probably he has a gang waiting to attack him. Why? What do we do? Pull your wagons into a circle by hand. Dig trenches, make a stand. We haven't a drop of water. The young ones are... Haruna, I each have two canteens. We'll leave them with you. Ration the water to the children. Mister, you're sure generous. Where are you going? The Modoc City. That's a long way off. Wind's rising. Maybe it'll rain. We'll get through. Adios, friends. All right, drop down your knees, everybody. We're going to pray for the masked man and engine. The curtain falls on the first act of our Lone Ranger adventure. Before the next exciting scenes, please permit us to pause for just a few moments. Oh, to continue. As the Lone Ranger and Tuttle headed for Modoc City bent on saving the travelers stranded at the poisoned waterhole, Uncle Homer managed to get control of the two camels he had bought at an army auction. The little easterner had recovered some of his aplomb. As he brought the awkward beast to a stop at the hotel's table, Maulhang barged out of the kitchen. What, camels? Land sakes. Honest of goodness, camels. I... I heard you wish for one. You what? Critter, get down, I say. Anna, down, so rob. Bars, my dear. I'll take the other one. I bought them at the army auction. Look, here comes Marshal Jim. Oh, there the farmers are. Marshal Jim, I'm... right sorry about the... Ruckus, the camel's car? Ruckus? It was the next thing to an earthquake. What happened? Those cantankerous critters stampeded every living thing in town. The mayor wanted me to arrest you, Uncle Homer. There's no law against having camels. That's what I told the mayor. But just the same, you're in for trouble unless you get rid of the beast pronto. We're keeping them. I'll see you. Tomorrow's payday at most ranches and mines. When the cow folks and miners come to town, they'll find out it isn't safe to leave their horses on the street. It'd be just like them to come here and plug the camels. Let them come. Homer, you put the critters in the stable. With the horses? No, no, we can't do that. Put them in the big storeroom behind the kitchen. Well, a few hours later, the lone ranger and topple were far out on the desert. The windstorm had broken in full fury, flotting off the moon and stars with clouds of sand. Toto was shouting, Better we wait till storm stops. No, keep going. Horses soon give out. We'll discard everything but our guns. Their loads lighten, the gallant silver, and scouts struggled on. But soon the lone ranger swung from his saddle. From now on we walk. Hold on to a stirrup and walk on the ruts, Toto. Several miles farther on the deep wagon track stopped, buried by drifting sand into which the horses sank to their hocks. The lone ranger called a halt. Horses! What's the matter? We'll rest the horses for a few minutes. Wind's changed plenty. Now it'll blow and face it again. Maybe we'll go around in circles. Then we're lost. After a short rest, the lone ranger and Toto attempted to find the trail with their hands, while their faithful horses did a ground hitch, crawling back and forth but keeping within sound of each other's voice. They clawed holes in the sand rifts. We not find trail, Kimusabi. Keep digging, Toto. The men dug, scraped, and probed. It's not here. Again. We try. At last the Indians' fingers came into contact with firmly packed sand under a loose drift. He cleared the hole and fell around. Kimusabi, hear ruts. Good, they'll give us our bearings. We remember, trail runs straight east from here to Modak City. Let's go, Toto. Come on, Toto. Come on. At the approach of dawn, the storm abated, but the masked man and Indian, ragging their heavy feet along beside their horses, were weak from thirst and almost exhausted. The temptation to give up and lie down was strong. With each step it seemed impossible to take another. Then the light in the eastern sky grew stronger. Toto said, Look, Kimusabi. Foothills close ahead. There may be a stream flowing down through them from the mountains. What's the smell of water? Want to run? What's got hope in there? Steady, sir. Easy, steady, big fella. Get into the saddle, Toto. We'll give the horses their heads. Steady. After we find water, we'll go on to Modak City. Where we go for help in town. To the Henry House. Our old friends, Maw Hank, Uncle Homer, and Marshall Jim will help us. Come on, sir. It was near noon when Marshall Jim returned to the Henry House. He found Maw Hank and Uncle Homer in the kitchen, armed to the teeth. Behind them, in the high-ceiling storerooms, stood Sorab and Rustam, classically chewing their cuds. All other guests had departed in haste and indignation. The Marshall was saying... It's just as I told you it'd be. Her mob is forming, huh? There are a hundred fellas in the nugget cafe. All bound and determined to lynch your camels. I can't stop them. By thunder, Homer and I'll stop them. Maw, that means shooting. The critters aren't worth it. But the principle is, as the feller says, this hotel is my castle. Oh, mercy, who's at the door? Sure thing, Maw. It's the low-range hotel. Ah, sakes alive, mister. Come on in, come in. Howdy, howdy, mister. Maw Hank, it's good to see you. Oh, that goes double. And you, Marshall. Glad to see you and Tonno again. Would you leave your horses? Behind the hotel and at this table, they came here through the woods so we'd not be seen. My friends, you arrive at the time of trouble. Yes. We found the difficulties into which the camels had plunged his friends. The masked man told about the flight of the travelers on the desert. Then Maw Hank said, Those camels will have to go. This is no time to be fighting over them. Those camels can help the people of the wagon train. But how? Fuddle and I'll ride them to Salvation Well and take canteens of water. We'll take a direct route. That short cut is impassable. The sand is too fine and loose, mister. Not for camels, Marshall. They can travel where no horses can go. Ah, that's right. We'll save hours of time. But good. Go out the back way and leave town without being seen. When you and Tonto have left, I'll bring some of the mob here and show them that the camels are gone. That'll satisfy them. Then I'll lead a rescue party to Salvation Well. Be sure to bring extra horses for the wagons. Also, it's counting silver. Oh, up, Tonto. It was early that night when the lone ranger and Tonto brought the camels to a halt near Salvation Well. A bright moonlight revealed a dune built by the sandstorm. A waterhole and wagons were beyond the ridge. Then gunfire began. You must hurry. Yes. Bandits here already. Gun flash show. Nymphs around wagons. Tonto, look over there. The far end of the dune. Horses there. The outlaws must have left them there, so they'd be out of range of the gunfire. There's only two men guarding those horses, Tonto. Let's charge them. All right. Come on. Get up! Get up! As the towering camels closed in, the outlaws badly frightened horses screamed, pitched and kicked. One guard who tried to quiet them was knocked down. The other took to his heels, firing wildly over his shoulder. Before the lone ranger could return the fire, the milling horses broke the picket line and at a mad gallop headed for their home range in the distant hills. That's the outlaws. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. This man, Tonto, retired the camels to the picket line then tried to crawl through the outlaws' line of the wagons. Meanwhile, the bandits had heard the commotion as they lay in a circle around the wagon train. Creeping back from the firing line until they were out of sight of the besieged travelers, Flint Carson and Hook Taylor leaped to their feet. Hook! What's happening beyond the dunes? I don't know, Flint. Someone's coming this way on a run. There's shallot. Sir, sir, the horses are stampeded. No, no, not that. No, it's true. A masked man in Indian, riding on two monsters, scared them. Oh, you've been eating local wheat. No, sir, your Flint. Where are those fellows now? After I get away, I stop and look back. I see them crawling into the drywash that goes toward the waterhole. Must be trying to reach the wagon train, Flint. Yeah. Shallow, you go back with the rest of the men. Yes, yes, sir. Come on, Hook. Let's get the parmins who stranded us. Flint and Hook warden their way to the edge of the shallow drywash, and lay and wait concealed by the heavy shadow of a boulder. It's too dark here to see my gun sight. Well, I can see mine. My holster's worn it bright. You better shoot first. Listen. I hear something. Hey, look. A masked man. The engine's behind him. I'll plug the masked man first. I'll wait till he's close. Unaware of the ambush, but always on the alert. The Lone Ranger had been scanning the top of the drywash. He saw nothing above except the boulder. He was about to creep on to a certain death. When Flint Carson's six-gun projecting over the edge reflected moonlight like a flash, the masked man fired. The killer's gun blazed harmlessly. Then it fell into the drywash as he groaned. My hand! He's got me! Get a rope! I'll get that ahead of you. Cover me, Tutto. I'm going up there. You keep watch. Scrambling up the slope, I found the outlaw who had rolled out into the moonlight. Let's see that hand, fella. There's a tattooed star on the back that my bullet didn't touch. What are you talking about? You're Flint Carson. A man a dozen sheriffs want to hang. In the meantime, the bandits on the firing line had heard through fella that their horses were gone. For the disappearance of their leaders, they began to break. The defenders of the wagon train who had thrown up mounds of sand as breastworks saw what was happening. They're running! After the poor kids, fellas, follow me! Some of the bandits fell wounded. Others surrendered. The remainder scattered and hid in the desert. When Cap Morris and his men returned from their Victoria sortie, they found the masked man at the wagon train with Flint Carson. Cap was puzzled. How'd you do it, Misty? While the lone ranger explained, Tutto appeared with the camels loaded with canteens of water. A cheer went up. Hooray for the masked man and Tutto! Don't forget Sorab and Rustam. Hooray for the camels! Hooray for the masked man and Tutto! It was the next day when the rescue party arrived led by Ma Hank, Uncle Homer, and Marshall Jim. Later, Hook Taylor and the other outlaws who had sought refuge in the desert came in with their hands up, preferring legal punishment for their crimes to the tortures of heat, thirst, and slow death. After tying and loading all of the prisoners into wagons, the marshals said, These crooks will soon be headed for jail or a rope. The wagon train will be heading east. But what about those camels? He pointed to Sorab and Rustam who stood tethered on the sand dune out of mischief's way. As mayor of Modoc City, I take my hat off to the den... I mean noble and heroic deed. But we can't have them in town. Don't you agree, Homer? You will, I reckon I have to, Mayor. Ma, how about giving the camels to old hard-pan Pete, the prospector? Oh, Homer, that's a good idea. Poor old hard-pan Pete lost his burrows. He'll be right kind to the camels. Hey, look. Masked man and Tonto are getting on their horses. Our friends were sorry to leave you. Mister, isn't there something we can do for you? You did enough cap when you prayed for us. Adios, all. Adios, monseed! Come! Bar-haggy, here's like you know that mask man. Well, now nobody ever really knows a man like him, Cap. But he's a grand man. You see, he's the Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created by George W. Trenville, produced by Trenville Campbell Enterprises, directed by Charles D. Livingston, and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beemer.