 fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty high old silver, the lone ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the masked rider of the planes 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 those thrilling days of yesteryear. From out of the past and the thundering hoof beats of the great horse Silver, the lone ranger rides again. Come on, Silver! Faster, boy, faster! I'll Silver! The warden of the territorial prison was seated behind a huge desk that almost covered one end of his office. Before him was stood the lone ranger. And you really believe in this honor parole system? That right, warden? Of course I do. I've believed in it for years. I recall correctly you tried to establish it here in the territory some time ago, didn't you? I've been trying ever since I was first appointed, warden. Now the governor's told me to go ahead and give it a trial. Is that why you sent for me? No, not exactly. I sent for you because I'm in a tough predicament. I need your help. Oh, it's a trouble. Well, the first man I'm going to parole under this honor system is a lifer. He's already done 20 years. Good behavior? Excellent. And I think he deserves another chance. He does. And I want to give it to him. But I'm afraid of what might happen. Well, what do you mean? Every year of shorty Smith. Smith? That's a rather common name, I think. Oh, wait a minute. One of the trustees is bringing Smiths to the office. I think they're coming now. I want you to hear what he has to say. If you mind waiting in that room, you can leave the door open enough to see and hear. Oh, not at all. You'll understand what I mean when you're here, but he has to say. I'll wait. Come in. Unvict Smith, warden. Oh, very well. You may wait outside. Yes, sir. Well, shorty, do you wonder why I've sent for you? 20 years in this place, warden. Stop wondering about anything. I wish I could be sure of that. Why? Because I'm going to set you free, shorty. Free on parole. I was framed in the year in the first place. I didn't kill Matt Sarky. Shorty, for just a minute, I'm going to talk as just a private citizen, not as the warden. I agree with you. But I think you were framed. And why? But I'm not a judge, you're a jury. I never have been. It all happened 20 years ago. Sarky's dead. So is your old boss, Tom Bowen. Now, the best thing for you to do is forget it. Start clean. I see what you mean. Will you give me your word, shorty? You mean that I'll stay out of trouble? You know what I mean. Tom Sarky, Matt's son, is working on some spread over in Cottonwood Basin. Now, I don't want you to hunt him up and carry on that old feud. I'll give you my word that I won't go gunning for Tom Sarky, if that's what you mean. That's good enough for me, shorty. Just remember you're on your honor. And I'm betting my own chips on you, too. Thanks, warden. Here's your parole notice. And here's my hand. That's wishing a lot of luck. Thanks. I'm a little good on fancy speeches, warden. I don't want to hear any. Goodbye, shorty. What do you think? I think you made a very good choice for the first man to be parole under the new system. I like these looks. I told him the truth. I do think he was railroaded into here. You said I could help you, warden. How? Well, you're writing self, aren't you? Yes, tunnel Dan and I are heading in that general direction. I'm afraid shorty is going to break his word. You want me to keep an eye on him. Is that it? Would you? You've helped me before, and I hate to ask. I'll be glad to help. Will Smith be likely to go to any particular ranch? You might head for the bar, S. That's Tom Bowen's old spread. I think his daughter's running it now. Thanks. I'll look it over. Hey, I don't know what to say. Got a hunch I'm asking you to trail an ex-convict that's been on murder. On the other hand. Suppose we let shorty Smith decide that. Adios, warden. A short time later, the lone ranger rained up his horse sharply on the campsite where tunnel and Dan were waiting for him. Ho, ho, sister, ho, boy, ho. I expected you sooner. Everything's packed. We're ready to move. Good. We have an important job to do. What is it? Helping a man keep his word of honor. Otto. How far south is Cottonwood Basin? Cottonwood? That's pretty far. Rind three, maybe four day. That's where we're heading. Get your horses. Come here, boy. Come scout. I don't understand. How can we help a man keep his word? That remains to be seen, Dan. We'll find out later. Come on, Silver. Get him out of the scout. The only mark of 20 years' unjust imprisonment was in Shorty Smith's heart. He did bear a grudge. He admitted that. A grudge against Matt Sarky, who is dead now, and against his son, who is somewhere in Cottonwood Basin. He rained his horse to a halt and looked out over the broad valley that was the only home he had ever known. Ho, ho, now. The valley hasn't changed much. I wonder where that sidewinder Tom Sarky's hanging his hat. I'd like to warden, says I'm on my honor. Well, whoever's running the bow in place won't do any harm to Moody down there. They might be able to use an extra hand. Roundup time is pretty close. Get up. Linda Bowen was young, but not too young to run the bar-ass ranch. Now she was worried. And there were anxious lines in her face as she idly watched the nondescript cow puncher ride up to the ranch house. Ho, ho. Howdy, ma'am. Howdy. Wonder if I could see the boss of this spread. Well? Where is he? You're talking to the boss. What is it you want? You mean you? Well, I'll be talking. What's wrong? Is it so unusual for a woman to operate a cattle ranch? No, not for a woman to run one, ma'am. But a young girl like you would. I'm 23 years old. I'm fully able to do the job. What is it you want? I'm not a saddle-trap, ma'am. I'm a cow hand. I thought maybe you could. Yes, I can use another hand. But I can't afford to pay as much as some of the other places do. How much? 40 a month and keep. Sounds fair enough. All right. You can check in over at the bunk house. The foreman and the boys are working the South Range. They'll be back at supper time. Thank you, ma'am. What's your name? Name? Why, uh, well. You have a name, haven't you? I guess you'd better call me Tex. Tex what? Oh, that's all just Tex. All right. I guess this is just my day to hire people with single names. About an hour ago, I hired on a young boy. He calls himself Dan. Just Dan. That's so. You'll find him in the bunk house. Thank you. Oh, by the way, I have two names. Linda Bowen. Did you say Bowen? Linda Bowen? You seem surprised. I am a little bit. I knew Tom, your pa. You knew Dad? I'm so glad you're here, Tex. So am I, ma'am. I'm awful glad to be here. Well, I'll see you at supper time. Hello, kid. Who are you? My name's Dan. Oh, yeah. Miss Linda told me about you. Just signed on with this outfit, didn't you? About an hour ago. Saw you on a trail this morning and figured you're heading for the bar asked. We? Who's we? I mean, my pony and me. Oh, you should have given me a hail we could have ridden in together. My handle's Tex, or, uh, or Shorty, or anything you want to call me. All right, Shorty. You know anything about this spread, kid? Just what I found out since I've been here. I've been talking to the cook. Yeah? Miss Bowen's in a lot of trouble. How's that? Well, all her stock is dying off for no reason at all. I thought she looked kind of worried like when I asked her for a job. What's wrong with the stock? Nobody knows. The outfit's in the middle of spring round up now. And so far, they found over 200 steers lying dead on a range. Oh, that's bad. Cook says they've had a vet look over the range and test the soil and grass. There's nothing wrong. But the cattle are still dying. Must be some reason for it. Who's a foreman here? I don't know. You and I are new hands. I guess we'll meet everybody in the outfit at supper time. The foreman of the bar S was a large man. Big, brawny, and tough. He ram-rotted the cowhands constantly. But Linda Bowen could find no fault with this, because whatever his tactics, he managed to get a great amount of work accomplished with a very few men. He was in the front room of the ranch house now speaking to Linda while they waited the cook's call to supper. I'm sorry, Miss Bowen, but there just ain't any answer to it. We found 40 more dead steers on the south range today. I know it. Keeps on this way, I won't have any cattle to ship. That means no money. I'll lose the ranch. I'm awful sorry. There's nothing you can do. No other ranch in the basin is having this trouble. Even that little spread, the eight bar eight, is shipping more stock than we are. I hadn't heard about it. Well, there's no use crying about it. Let's go to supper. I forgot something. I hired a couple of new hands today. I'll introduce you. Boys, Dan, Tex, come here. Yes, ma'am? This is Tom Sarky, the foreman. Glad to know you heard it. And Tex, this is Tom Sarky. Sarky. Sarky's the foreman on your ranch? Tex. You mean you hired this saddle bum that does convict? Convict? Yes, convict. His name's not Tex. It's Shorty Smith, the coyote that murdered my pa 20 years ago. No, you must be mistaken. Given you one minute to clear out, Smith, get off this ranch and stay off. It wasn't for a promise I've made, Sarky. I'd draw my gun and drill you before he could pull that trigger. Boy, you. Is it true, Tex? Or Shorty, or whatever your name is, about being a convict, I mean? Well, that part of it's true, Miss Linda. But I can't. And you told me you were a good friend of Dad's. I was. Dad didn't know any convicts. I guess Sarky's right. You'd better go. Come on, Shorty, I'm going with you. Oh, kid, you don't have to. Come on. You're right, Dan, I am an ex-convict. I'm out on parole now. I know it. You know? Sure. And so does someone else who wants to help you. Who's that? He was out here by the corral just a few minutes ago. I was talking to him just before he came into supper. I don't understand, kid. Listen. Come on, let's saddle our horses and follow him. That's the Lone Ranger. 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. Dan and Shorty Smith rode hard as they followed the Lone Ranger. And a few moments later, they reigned up the horses beside a campfire with the masked men and Taunta were resting. Here they are. Oh, boy. Oh, that was you following me, Dan. Who's with you? Shorty, come on. This is the Lone Ranger. Gone. I've been in prison for a long time. Even in there, I heard stories about you. I never thought you were real. And I'm real, Shorty. What happened, Dan? Why did you follow me? We had to leave. Miss Bourne asked us to. Former told her about Shorty being in prison. Who's the foreman? Tom Sarky, the son of the man the law says I shot. But I didn't do it. He's a liar and no good. I agree with you, Shorty. I've done some investigating about Mr. Sarky. Yeah. How come you? I was interested. I started as soon as Dan went to work at the bar S today. That's something else I can't figure out. If Dan here is a friend of yours, what was he doing hiring on his chore boy at the bar S? Keeping a promise I made. What do you know about all these bar S steers that have been found dead on the range? Nothing. All I know is what I heard the hands talking about. Dan heard the same thing. Oh, tell me, Shorty, did you get a close look at any of those dead cattle? A couple of them that had been hauled into the corral. What do you think killed them? Oh, no, no. I've seen a lot of dead steers in my time. The only ones I've ever seen had looked like leaves, had died from eating poisoned grass. I thought so, too. But I understand Miss Bowen has had the grass and soil tested. That's what they say. Shorty, there's a mystery here that needs explaining. I looked over her to the bar S steers that were grazing on the West Range this afternoon. Were they sick-looking? Most of them were very thin and scrawny. Are they able to stand? Then the critters must be eating bad grass all over the spread. Well, something's wrong. And it all adds up to Miss Lynn losing her ranch. Well, you've got to find the answer. Do you know where there's good grazing land some place out of Cottonwood Basin? Well, I know a little valley on the other side of the slope. It's got the sweetest grass a steer of a chute. Good. How far away is it? Oh, about 30, 40 miles. Here's a little bit. How do? Are we going to ride? Yes, Dan. Not that far, would you? Sure. Now it's dark. There's no moon. Good night for the four of us to do a little cattle rustling. Steady, Silver. Cattle rustling? Why, I thought you, I mean, I've always heard. Steady, boy. Who's cattle are we going to rustle? A couple of those bar-steers I saw today. I don't get the idea. But I'm trailing along. Ready, Tunnel? You ready? We'll head for the West Range, but not too close to the ranch house. Come on, Silver. Let's count it up. Poor horseman, Tonto, Dan, Shorty Smith, and the lone ranger rode north for a few miles, then swung over to the floor of Cottonwood Basin and the western part of the bar-ass range. It was an unusually dark night, and before they realized it, they were close by a herd of bar-ass stock that was bedded down. Oh, listen to me, oh, oh, oh, oh. Now be as quiet as you can. Some of the bar-ass hands might be on the prowl. Tonto. Can you cut a couple of these steers out from the herd? Oh, wait. Better let me do it. Me and my pony talk the same lingo those critters do. All right, Shorty, go ahead. Get two of the leanest ones, those that look the worst. Yeah. Heat up, horse. That man, no cattle. His pony handle steers plenty good. Gee, I'll say. Look how he's nudging those two away from the herd. We can just get them off this range and over to that valley that anyone's seen us. These two all right? Fine. Now, how do we head for the valley you told me about? They're going right, Sheriff. Get the critters pushing around. Steers don't do that when they're fed it down. Sarky. We'll be all right if the cattle just keep quiet. Your logo, Sarky. Steers lab will do anything. Sarky and the sheriff. And this is one time when I'm not anxious to see a london. Just the same london. What does it? Now we've got to run for it. Then Tonto, help Shorty, herd those steers. Keep them ahead of your head north. We have rustlers right over there. I'm going to let them have one. Get moving. I'll make some noise and try to lead them off. All right, you critters, move. Come on, Silver. You've got to dodge bullets and attract attention at the same time. Come on, boy. Faster, Silver. Faster. It was late the following afternoon before the poor riders and the two exhausted steers arrived in the little valley that Shorty had headed for. Because of Silver's superior's feed, the Lone Ranger had easily outdistance the barres foreman and the sheriff. The little party rode toward what was evidently an abandoned line camp. And there, the Lone Ranger called a halt. Oh, oh, Silver. Oh, oh, oh, oh. I don't think you'll be bothered here. Oh, not a chance. You mind telling me what the whole idea is? It's just this, Shorty. There's good water here and good grazing. I want to keep those cattle here for about two weeks. They fatten up away from the barres range. It proves the answer is down there. They don't. It's a disease that's spreading through all of Miss Bowen's stock. Good idea. Who stays here with the steers? You do. Otto and Dan will come with me. You see, I want to find out a few more things about Tom's Sarky. The only thing you will find out about him is that he's a sidewiler. Proving it's another matter. Will you be all right here? Sure. I've got grub and my saddlebags, and that shack's plenty good enough to sleep in. We'll be back in about 10 days or two weeks. The cattle should show some improvement by that time. They like it already. Look at them croplet grass. I hope they keep it up. We'll see you later, Shorty. Goodbye, Shorty. So long, kid. Come on, get up, scoundrel. For the first few days in the valley, Shorty Smith neither saw nor heard another human being. The steers grazed contentedly while the old cowman spent the time mending his saddle gear. On the morning of the sixth day, he sighted some distant riders who were evidently combing the surrounding hills in search of someone. Shorty stayed in the shack that day, and by nightfall, the riders were gone. In the days that followed, he noticed that the two steers were becoming fat and sleek. It confirmed the suspicions of the lone ranger. Whatever was killing Linda Bowen's cattle was on the bar-ass ranch. Shorty reached this conclusion just as he was saddling his horse for an exercise run. As he started to mount, his eye caught a slight movement in the bushes beyond the cabin. In a fraction of a second, he reached for his gun, but he wasn't fast enough. Reach you, Humbray. All right. What are you going to do about it? This is where the trick is, uh, rustler, huh? What do you think? That's what I expected. Told the sheriff it'd like 10 to 1 it was you. It looks like those steers have changed some, haven't they? You want to make something out of it? Not with that gun in my face. You're holding the card's deal. The rights I had to plug you like the sneak and rustler you are. But I'm going to let you go, Smith. And if you're smart, you'll hightail it out of the country. Getting them steers back is more important than I am, ain't it? That's my business, Smith. Climb on that car you see yours and get out of here. Move. When you get him back to the bar-ass, show him to Miss Lingley. She'd like to know what happens to her stock when you ain't meddling with it. Move! Shorty was reasonably certain that Tom Sarky hadn't been alone when he discovered the cattle in the hidden valley. And he also knew that men of Sarky's brand would much rather kill an ambush than eye to eye. As he healed his bronco along the trail of the bar-ass, his guests proved right. Suddenly a rifle bullet sang dangerously close to his head. You've got to do some fancy dodging, boy. Stretch that leg. The rifle fire continued for almost a mile and then ceased. Shorty hoped he'd outrun the ambush, but he wasn't certain until he rounded a bend in the trail and had to pull up short to prevent running head on into three horsemen. The lone ranger, Dan and Tonto. Oh! Oh! Shorty! Sarky, he found the hideout, pulled the gun on me, and took the steers. So he came after them. The evidence would have been too much. He's smarter than I thought. Maybe if the four of us took a back trail. That won't be necessary, Shorty. I know exactly where he's going with those cattle, and we'll be their wedding for him. I've already told the sheriff. I don't understand. I'll explain it later. Right now, we have some ground to cover. Come on, Silver, hit him up! Get out! Pushing their horses to the utmost, the riders reached the western range of the Bares Ranch within two hours. There they waited behind a small hill that overlooked a gaunt and worn herd of Bares stock. The animals were so weak and listless, they hardly moved. Shorty saw Linda and the sheriff waiting behind another hill. He wanted to call to them, but the lone ranger motioned for silence. They didn't have long to wait. Within a few minutes, Tom Sarky appeared at the other end of the range, driving ahead of him the two steers he had recovered from Shorty. He herded them into the group of listless cattle and was about to spur his mount toward the distant ranch house when the lone ranger called to him. Just a minute, Sarky. Hey, what the... Better put that gun back in leather. Fast! Who are you? Put down the gun. All right, Shorty, tunnel. Shorty Smith. It's a frame of... I warned you! Oh, my... You asked for it. Say, no, what? Shooting was your idea, Sarky. All right, Sheriff, here's your man. That was some of the fanciest shooting I've ever seen, stranger. What's the meaning of all this? The sheriff wouldn't tell me... Shorty. You and this masked outlaw. He's no outlaw, Miss Bowen. Tom Sarky, can you explain it? No, I can't, Miss Bowen. Just out here looking over the stalk when all of a sudden this gang rushed me. You could explain what you were really doing, Sarky. I've already told her. Not the truth. Miss Bowen, you've had quite a bit of trouble with your stock lately. Isn't that right? Lost almost half of it. Mr. Sarky can tell you the reason. See the salt cakes you keep for the cattle? Yes. They've been treated with arsenic. That's the reason so many of your cattle are dead. Arsenic. Well, I'll be... Sarky's a man who's been behind it. Is this true, Sarky? Have you been poisoning my stock? No, it's a lie. Why would I do anything like that, Miss Bowen? Well, I don't know. Because he secretly owns the eight-bar-eight ranch a few miles up the valley. The more of your cattle he poisoned, the greater chance he had to market his own stock. You low down, sneak and snake. Freedom arsenic to cattle. I ought to... Never mind, Shorty. I'll take care of him. The sheriff has some good news for you, Shorty. News? He uncovered some new evidence on the case for which you were sent to prison. I'm sure you won't be on parole any longer. What I know of the warden and the governor, it'll mean a full pardon. I don't know what to say. He said all that was necessary when you kept your promise to the warden. You'll handle Sarky, won't you, Sheriff? With pleasure. Good. Here, Silver. Is that it, big fella? Ready, Toto, Dan? Huh? Sure. I think our job's done. You have one that's just beginning, Shorty. Job? Miss Bowen needs a good foreman for the BRS. I don't know where she'd find a better one. Adios. Come on, Silver, fit him up, shorty. He's right, Shorty. The job's waiting for you. Will you take it? Will I? Miss Bowen, you hired yourself a foreman. No, there's only one thing that puzzles me. Who are they? That boy, Dan, and the man with the mask. All I know about the boy is that his name is Dan. The mask man is the best friend an old cowhand like me ever had. He's the lone ranger. 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