 A fiery horse with a speed of light, a clot of dust, and a hearty hyosilver, the Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Toto, the daring and resourceful mask writer of the planes 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 hoofbeats of the great horse, Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again. Come on, Silver. Let's go be close. The Lone Ranger was camped in the hills overlooking Ledgeville. He sat beside a fire cleaning the dust of a long journey from his six guns and waiting the return of Toto from a mission to town. As night deepened, the Indian rode up. The masked man rose to meet his friend. Well, Toto, did you see Sheriff Logan? Him dead came a sobbing. Dead? Ah, him long time sick died last week. I'm sorry to hear it. Logan was one of the best lawmen I ever met. A fellow named Leif Thomas take his place. Me not know him. Neither do I. Did you tell Thomas that we have traced two bandits into the old mining district north of Ledgeville? No. Me think it better let you know about Logan first. Perhaps you acted wisely. Me here, old Sheriff, died plenty poor. That's too bad. He had a child, didn't he? Ah, girl. They're grown up now. Here's a little bit. Waiting camp for me, Toto. Is that a big fella? Where you going? Call on Logan's daughter. Young Jim Brandt, the editor of the Ledgeville Weekly Sentinel stood at Sally Logan's side as she turned up a lamp in the room where her father had died. The light disclosed a horse hide covered box on a table. The girl pointed. Jim, that's what I wanted to show you. That box, Sally? What's in it? Dad's souvenirs. All the things he'd accumulated during his 30 years as a peace officer didn't leave much else. Sally, he left a record. We're all proud of him. I know, but that won't pay the doctor bills and funeral expenses and the house is mortgaged for all it's worth. The people in this town would raise a benefit fund if you'd let him. I won't take charity. Oh, you've got your father's pride. He should have taken that big reward when he killed Lobo McClain, the outlaw. Dad said he was only doing his duty. I'll do mine, too. What I can earn and what I can sell, I'll pay every cent that's on. I'll take the responsibility for paying. After we're married, you won't have... Well, Jim, you're a darling, but I won't saddle you with my obligations. You're having trouble enough keeping your paper going. And we'll have to wait, I suppose. Yes, dear. Unless that box solves our problem... I don't see how it can. There are lots of guns in it, outlaw guns. He should be worth something, and I want you to sell him. Let's see, how does this thing open? Like this. There you are. Jumping jack rabbits. Look at the six shooters. Each one has a tag on the trigger guard telling about it. Oh, there's an envelope. Something heavy in it. Open it. It's only a .45 cartridge. I wonder... Say, it's loaded with a silver bullet, real silver. Oh, the silver bullet. I've forgotten about it. Where'd your father get it, Sally? It was a present from a mysterious friend. Dad valued it a lot, so I'll keep it. Let's get the guns out. Item one. Cold peacemaker. Fine condition. Pearl handle. Gold inlay in the shape of a wolf head. Yeah, that was Lobo McClain's gun. Who's that? He's that. Don't be frightened. I have a tender arm. What are you doing here? First, let me identify myself as a friend of your father, Miss Logan. You? A friend? You'll find that the silver bullet you're holding matches those in my gun belt. Look. Oh. I had the honor of working with your father once. I'm here to offer my sympathy and help. Who are you? Jim, he's a friend. That's enough. May I see that gun, Jim? Look it over. So this is the Angel Maker. The Angel Maker? That's what Lobo McClain called his colt. He boasted of having shot more than 20 men with it. What's it worth? Well, it's a beautiful weapon in spite of the purpose to which it was put. It has considerable value as a curio, too. But I wouldn't sell it if I were you. Why not? Sally needs the money. Yes, I know. But there's a way of making this gun bring in far more than you could get out of a sale. How's that, mister? Offered as a prize in a shooting match and charged sizable entry fees. Well, there are scores, perhaps hundreds of men who'd take part in the contest. If only to be able to say they'd shot the Angel Maker. Well, that's an idea. I'll fill my paper with stories about the match. I'll get out hand bills. I will have the biggest contest that's ever been seen around here. A few days later, two bandits whose trail of robbery and violence had led the Lone Ranger and Tato to the Ledgeville area, prepared to strike again, mounted on fast horses and armed with new Winchester and Colt 44s. They peered from a clump of willows that hedged the stage route some miles from town. The taller of the pair was saying... Hey, hack, isn't Ledgeville the place where Lobo McLean wound up his career? I don't know, like, I was in the pen when it happened, so it didn't matter to me. But I sure would like to find his gun. The Angel Maker, huh? There must have been some shooting iron. When was it you rode in Lobo's game? Three years ago. And I'm the only one of the bunch who's still on top of the ground. Hey, listen. Yeah, it's the stagecoach. She's coming fast, hack. Let's get her neck and cheeks over her faces. All right? Oh, I'm ready. Yes, oh, my. Come on. Get up! Get up! Come on! Get up there! Pull up! Get up! I reach you, coyote's reach. We're reaching. Go easy with that shooting iron. Got their horses loose. Hey, driver, where are your passengers? Where's the Wells Fargo box? You picked the wrong day for the box. And as for passengers, nobody's leaving Ledgeville now. Everyone's gone there for the big shooting match. Yeah, boy, that's kind of fun. Look, ought to plug you, fellas. Hold on, we got a mailbag up here. And kick it off, Prano. Here she comes. I got it. All right, I'm ready to stampede the horses. And let's go. Get up! The outlaws rode furiously, goading their horses through Canyon and Cooley until they reached a region of bleak hills and worked-out mines. There, beside the sagging walls of an abandoned smelter, they drew rain. Oh, hold on. Oh, oh, oh. Well, Anki, we're back in camp. Come on and lie down. I want to see what's in that sack. Yeah, take my knife. Cut a hole and rip her wide open. All right. Hey, Hag, look at this stuff. Look at it. Hey, what's in there? Newspapers, nothing but newspapers. You know, one of those stagefellas wouldn't fight. Yeah, but we can swing for this stuff the same as if it was money. Now, I'm taking one of the papers. Now, touch a match of the rest. Hey, Anki. It says here that they got the angel maker in Ledgeville. Oh, you and Lobo's gun. You better be thinking of a way to grab some dinero. They're giving it away for a prize and they're shooting at a stage driver told of us. What of it? Well, Anki, oh, boy, that gun's worth a cool $50,000. You must be local. How could a gun be worth that much? That gun, Anki, it's what's in it. Hey, look, I don't savvy. You know Lobo was slick at playing cards. He cleaned the rest of the gang after every job and he saved the money. Yeah, I've heard he was marzling. Well, just before I got caught and was sent up, I was with Lobo and Frisco. One day I went to his hotel room. Hi, Lobo, what you got there? Bye, Monsang. Just turned my cash into these five rocks. Played $10,000 in a piece for him. You going to wear them? Yep. But not whether they'll be seen again. You got the grip plates off your gun. I'm packing these rocks and cigarette papers and putting them inside the butt of the old angel maker. They'll be my ace in the hole. I sit there watching him load the handle of the angel maker with those diamonds. What, do you think they're still there? Sure. The way this paper reads the old sheriff who had the gun died poor. So he didn't find them? What do we do, Hack? Go to Ledgeville. Nobody's seen our faces around here. We'll be just two more strangers and a town full of strangers. How do you figure to get hold of the angel maker? You pull a stick up? Not if we can help it. That shooting match is made to order for me. Do you think so? Nobody can beat me with a gun. I'll shoot for the angel maker and win it. Meanwhile, the Lone Ranger and Tato had resumed their search for the outlaws in the old mining area. Unaware of the stagecoach robbery, they penetrated the dripping depths of deserted mines. Explored ruined buildings. And scouted through countless piles of quartz. Kimusabi. Yes? Looked like them fellas fool us. They came in here. They can't get out without leaving some trace. The hunt went on. Then as darkness approached... Oh, scum. Oh, scum. Easy scum. Easy scum. Oh, somebody's been camping here by this old smeller. Them fellas we want, Kimusabi. Me see seem same horse tracks. We follow before. What do they lead? Them come from east. And go south toward town. Look like tracks three, four hours old. And the bandits are already in Ledgeville. That make it plenty hard for us. The town must be crowded. All we know about those fellows is that one has drooping eyelids. Kimusabi. Yes? Here come two horsemen. They've seen us, Tato. They're riding in hard. One fella wear badge. The sheriff. Him ready to shoot. Ready, Tato. All right, get them up you two. They're both covered. Mask, eh? Sheriff, what do you want of us? Mail robbery. Mail robbery? Sheriff, right over there's where they burn the mail box. Got you dead to rights, mister. You're making a mistake. No, I'm not. Just one thing, Sheriff. The state's driver told us the outlaws rode sorrows. Chances are they changed horses. I'll keep them covered, Deputy. You take their guns and unmask that critter. Last a minute, Sheriff. My friend and I have been hunting the same men you want. Then you know about the stage robbery. No. We've been after those bandits for a series of other crimes. They extend from one end of the territory to the other. A likely story. We trailed you straight from where you pulled the hold up. Backtrack us and you'll find that we rode in here from the opposite direction. The real bandits left here heading for town. Looks like two fellas did go south from here, Sheriff. Then there's four in the gang. Take their guns, Deputy. We've had enough of this rag-tune. Right. You heard what I said. We're taking your guns and your mask. You make one move to resist and I'll open fire. 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. The Sheriff and his deputy had been following the trail of mail robbers. They met the Lone Ranger and Tonto. When the Sheriff thought the masked man and his Indian companion were the bandits, he held his six-gun steady and ordered his deputy to disarm the two. Neither of the lawmen paid any attention to the great horse, Silver, who stood at one side. Watch them carefully, Sheriff. I'll take their guns. Men have tried that before. At them, Silver! At them, Tonto! Silver charged and knocked the Sheriff to one side. The Lone Ranger and Tonto closed in with lightning speed. Now, Tonto! In an instant, they snatched the weapons from the surprised Sheriff and his equally surprised deputy. Oh, they charged. Oh, gone red skin. He's got my guns. You won't get away with this. We'll see. Go ahead and shoot. Realize and see how far it gets you. We're not going to shoot you, Sheriff. I tried to tell you we weren't outlaws. Get to your horse, Tonto. Now, me do it. We'll be after you. Sheriff, we're not going to keep your guns. We'll drop them on the trail about a mile from here. You can reclaim them. Silver, easy. Ready, Tonto? You ready? Come on, Tonto! Come on, Tonto! The Lone Ranger and Tonto rode hard and made frequent sharp turns to cover ground that showed no tracks. Then, the masked man raised one hand to signal a halt. Sheriff and his deputy won't find us for a little while anyway, Tonto. That's so, but... We get plenty close to town. I want you to go into Ledgeville at once. You can change your appearance so you'll pass to the Ude Indian from this neighborhood. Oh, that easy. And what me do? See what the situation is and get some things I'll need to disguise myself. And me get ready now. Tomorrow, we're going to the shooting match. It was a colorful crowd that packed the town next day. On boardwalks, Indians in gaudy blankets and gamblers with flashing stickpins mingled with professional gunmen. Some of the latter were hard-eyed, thin-lip, silent men. Some were loud-mouthed braggarts, but all had the vanity of their kind and could not forego a chance to show off their marksmanship. The names of the favorites among them were posted on gaming house walls, and the bets ran high. Main Street itself roped off and cleared of horses was the range, the target standing against a pile of sandbags in front of the empire house. At a table outside the newspaper office sat Jim Brandt and Sally Logan, taking in entry fees and getting out numbered tickets. Sheriff Thomas, back from his blundering hunt for the outlaws and wearing a ribbon that identified him as judge, was shouting, Step live enough, Jensen. Have your money ready. The match starts in just a little while. Go catch yourself some stage robbers, Sheriff. A lone ranger, disguised as an eastern sportsman, stood a little apart, talking to Toto. That town is filled with suspicious-looking characters, Toto. Ah, we see plenty top-fellar around. The men we water safe here unless we... Achimus, honey, look. That fella coming up the table. Yes, he has drooping eyelids. Ah, him one of them fellers. Even if he is, we can't do anything now. What do you mean? We'll have to hand the sheriff a foolproof case if we want to convict the crooks and clear ourselves. Maybe you better watch him anyhow. Right. I'll buy the next ticket. Pardon me, sir. This is where one purchases a ticket to shoot. Carry me home on a shutter. Is an eastern dude who's going into the match? Take your ticket, mister. You're 77. Hey, is that the angel maker you got there on the table? That's it. Let him see it, Jim. No, Sally. Nobody touches it until it's his turn to shoot. Well, miss, it appears that I'm next. I'm here for you to want a shooter to be humiliating for you. We have a rugged sense of humor out here. You're most considerate, but I'll take a chance. Then you're 78, and I hope you win. Gunfire and cheer ship the town as the match got underway. One by one, the contestants took their places on the firing line and emptied the angel maker at the targets while their supporters shouted and fired their own guns into the air. After two hours of excitement and tumult, some of the entrants dropped out and the outlaw hack heard his number call. Number 77, take your place. All set. Give me the gun, fella. It is. Ready to fire. Watch this, you galutes. 77 shoots a perfect score. Looks like you're the winner, mister. I sure ought to be. He looks like everyone's quit but that Easterner. See, 78. You ready? Right ready, Charles. This year, spot him 50 points. Let me hold your arm, pilgrim. Come on, cut the horseplay. Let the Eastern gent fire peaceable. Here's the gun, mister. Don't touch the barrel. It's hot. You're thoughtful, sir. It's another perfect score, gents. Every bullet in the bullseye. And the Eastern gent ties number 77. Congratulations, mister. Thank you, miss. Hey, you sure about that score, sheriff? I got it from the target changer. Look for yourself. What do you aim to do about giving away that gun? I see. Anybody else want to shoot? Not against us, sir. Well, Jim, how are we going to settle this time? We'll move the firing line back another 25 feet. Let the two men shoot again. As the new firing line was being measured and marked, Hack joined his Confederate lanky and drew him aside. What do you think of that, lanky? Have you seen an accident that Easterner tied you? Accident nothing. He's the slickest hand with a gun I ever saw. But it don't make sense. You'll beat me next time he shoots unless we stop him. Stop him? How? I got an idea. You were hiding that covered wagon across the street. Cut a hole in the canvas and plug him before he tops my score. Yeah, but that'll be mighty risky. No, it won't. Nobody'll notice if you shoot while there's a lot of noise. It'll look like a wild shot hit the fella. All right, Hack. I'll get him. Number 77 shoots 90 out of 100. Your turn, Mr. Easterner. You can do better. I know you can. I can try. Hello. If you're wanting that Indian guide of yours, he ran across the street. Scared, I reckon. Here comes the Dr. Jim. All right, boys. Let me through here. Let me through here. Here, Jim. Can you walk? I can manage. And let's go to my office where I can fix you up. Give me your hands. That's what comes of those crazy collutes in the crowd letting off their guns every which way. What a jail, a whole mob. That bullet nicked my hat before it hit him. You sure are lucky. I'll bet you win the gun. What's the score? 100. Well, that does it. You keep the Angel Maker. Sheriff, if you don't mind, I'll turn it over to you to keep for me. I'll be gone awhile. Oh, gone hunting, eh? Sure, I'll hold onto the gun for you. And I pity the buffalo. A little later, the lone ranger and tato met in a thicket at the edge of town where they had concealed their horses. The Indian was grim, as he reported. Keep us happy. That bullet aimed at you. Yes, I thought so. Did you see who fired it? No. Him shoot from covered wagon. Him gone when we get there. What about the man with the drooping eyelids who lost a gun to me? Well, after match end, me follow him to hotel. Him meet another fellow there. Maybe same fellow who tried to kill you. Oh, most certain that they're the bandits. You think them know you on their trail? No. They want the angel maker. They'll try again to get it. Me not savvy that. Now, where you got gun? At the sheriff's giving it. Why you give it to him? I'll explain when I change back to my mask and riding clothes. Meanwhile, the outlaws lodged in a room in the empire house took stock of the situation. Lanky was saying... Now that the sheriff's got the gun, it's goodbye to the diamonds. We can raid the jail, Lanky. Ah, don't be funny. Heck, I've seen that calaboose. Got bars on all the windows and doors with the people in it. We can still get in if we work it right here. You know that girl, the old sheriff's daughter? Sure, I've seen her. Well, she lives all alone in the house right next to the jail. That's a sure bet the sheriff would open up if she went to the door. Yeah. Yeah, I see what you're figuring on. We'll wait here until after dark. It was late that night when Sally returned from visiting the wounded editor as she approached her front gate. You try down the walk and go. No screaming if you want to live. But what do you want? You're going up that jail door and we're going with you. And when we get there, you tell the sheriff you're hurt and need help. No trick, Sally. Yes, but please don't shoot the sheriff. Get up those steps and knock on the door. Stand to the side, partner. I'll show your face whoever's out there. It's me, Sheriff. Why, Sally, what's the matter? I... You get plugged in. You're sick. Here, I'll let you in. No, sir, I'm sorry. Shut up! I'll reach you, law dog, reach. You get the money we drill you and the girl, too. All right, I've got my hands up. What are you holding up the jail for? Where's the angel maker? That's all you want. It's right here on my desk. I'll get the gun, partner. You take the sheriff's keys and lock him and the girl in the cell. All right, get back there, you two. Come on, man, easy. Get the angel maker all right and she's loaded. Well, let's see what's in the... I don't have time for that. Now let's get going. Up those guns. Hey, look there in the door. A mask man and an Indian. Up those guns, I said. Try and make us... Oh, my arm, he busted my arm. Get him, heck! Hey, shut the gun out of my hand. The angel maker, where did it fall? Never mind that. Give me those jail keys. Oh, you get guns. I'll open the cells. It's the mask man. Sheriff, come on out. Bring Miss Logan. So you had a hand in this deal, too, eh? The mask man is a friend, Sheriff. Come on. What the tarnation has been going on out here? We've captured your male robbers. But they were after the angel maker. Yes, they're willing to shoot me so I wouldn't win the contest. I gave the gun to you, Sheriff, to see if they'd break in here. What? So that Easterner was you. And those owl hoots walked into a trap. Miss Logan, I'm sorry they forced you into this, but we were close. You were in no danger. All right, back to your cells, you crook. Now, wait a minute. How about my arm? I'll get you, doctor. This will teach you to lock me in my own jail. I've got you for trying to steal a gun. That'll do to him get more charges against you. Hey, you wait, Sheriff. What is it, Tutto? A Kimusubby. When you shoot gun out of that fella's hand, bullets smash handle. Look what we find inside. What? Diamonds. Who put them there? I'm speaking to you, bandits. Yeah, wreck it, I might as well tell. Those were Lobo McLean's diamonds. He hit them there and I knew it. Jumping jackwrap. It's what a story. Jim, dear, you should be home in bed. Not with guns going off and a newspaper to get out. Mask man, do you claim these diamonds? No, Sheriff. Of course we'll have to decide the ownership. Well, if I know the judge, they'll go to a lawman's daughter. Oh, Jim, do you hear that? Hey, it looks like that mask man's gone. Who is he, Sally? Well, Sheriff, my father knew him as the Lone Ranger. I'll kill you! This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created and produced by George W. Trendle, directed by Charles D. Livingston, and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer.