 The following program is rebroadcast by the Armed Forces Radio Service to our fighting men overseas. Goodyear presents the Roy Rogers Show. You'll be hearing Bob Nolan and the Sons of the Pioneers, Pat Friday, the Far Brothers, Perry Botkins Orchestra. And now the greatest name in rubber, Goodyear, invite you to meet America's greatest western star, Roy Rogers. So howdy folks and we're all mighty glad you're here with us again tonight for another Goodyear get together. With a song or two and of course a frontier yarn that I hope you'll all like. Roy, remember last week when you told that yarn about the Russian kid? You said there were a dozen or more frontier Robin Hoods. Sure do, Pat. Why? Well, I don't know if it's because I'm a woman, but the idea of a gay dashing Robin Hood stirs my imagination. And since you said there were more than a dozen of them in the early days, well I was wondering if you might tell a story of another of those almost legendary characters tonight. Pat, it's a pleasure to indulge your woman's curiosity. So let's tell a story tonight about, well about California's Robin Hood character, Joaquin Murrieta. Joaquin Murrieta? Even the name has a romantic ring to it. Listen to her. Swoonin' again. Well actually, how you felt about Murrieta? If you lived in the days of the gold rush, depended on who you were, Pat. On who you were? Yeah, if you were an American who'd come in to make your fortune quickly with a gold claim, Murrieta was probably a desperate and reckless bandit to you, but if you were a Mexican or a California Spaniard, Joaquin was sort of an avenging knight in armor. You mean he actually wore armor, Roy? No, he wore clothes like anyone else, Pat, except they weren't just like anybody else's. He wore silks and satins and embroidered shirts and really cut quite a figure. You see, Murrieta was cut out to be a leader. He was an expert shot and at 10 spaces, at 10 paces rather, could throw a knife right through the center of a nasive diamonds. He dressed like an actor and well maybe he was an actor at heart because many of his escapes were made possible because of his skill at disguise. Like the day when a crowd of people were standing around a sheriff's poster. $5,000 reward offered by the citizens of Stockton to anyone who delivers Joaquin Murrieta dead or alive. Suddenly a well-dressed Mexican who had pushed his way through the crowd turned to a neighbor and said, Fortin, senor, perhaps you have a pants like a bottle, eh? Sure, A.R. Pedro. Yes, yes. Well, the Mexican wrote something on the bottom of the handbill, then strode off, mounted and rode away. Just as his horse broke into a starting trot, some men crowded in closer to the billboard to see what he'd written. Suffering catfish, look at that. Look what it says. I will add $10,000 to this reward and it's signed Joaquin Murrieta. Well, it wasn't too long after that that a doctor in a little town of San Leander's had a caller one afternoon. You say a friend of yours is sick? See, senor, he wished I'd bring you to him. Well, where's this man located? He's not in back country. You come with me. I bring an extra horse. I show you where he is. What's wrong with him? Stomach bad? Running a fever? Oh, no, sabi, senor. Pero, he looked like... he looked like maybe he'd die. Well, I guess there's no use wasting time here. Wait till I fetch my bag and I'll ride with you. See you, senor doctor. And when you ride with me, you wear blindfold. A half hour later, the doctor's blindfold was removed and he found himself in a cave high up in the mountains. There before him, stretched out on a hard rock floor, was walking Murrieta. Murrieta was conscious. He smiled charmingly up at the doctor. Ah, senor, it was good of you to come. Murrieta, you might as well know now that I didn't come because I was threatened by this owl hoot of yours. I came because I understood a man was dying. Well, see, see, to be sure, you are a physician. You have made an oath to care for the dying and the sick. But, senor doctor, let us not waste time. I have already lost much blood. Here, here is the wound. I see. Senor doctor, your face, she looks sad. Is it that I am not going to live? I don't know, Murrieta. Well, I'll dress the wounds. Your chances of recovery after that are about 50 out of 100. Three days from now. Well, you should know if you're going to live or not. Three days, eh? Well, we'll make you as comfortable as possible for that time, senor. Well, hey, do you think I'm going to stay here for three days? Yes. Miss Knife fulfilled my obligation as a physician. I've attended you. Besides, I have other patients. Many of them as sick as you are. Sit down, senor doctor. You might as well. You are not leaving this cave until we find out that I shall live or that I am dead. Venga, muato, bring the doctor some wine. Apparently, the plight of the doctor's other patients preyed on Murrieta's mind or conscience. And after he was bandaged, he opened his eyes, smiled until the wince of pain was gone from his face and spoke again. Senor doctor, I have made decision. Yeah, what now? I am only one life. You have many patients. If I live, I live. If not, we know you have done as good as you know how. My men will take you back. Come on, your dressing should be changed. Look, dad. I'll tell you what I'll do with you, Murrieta. See? You have your man meet me at the waterfall tomorrow at four, and I'll be back. You shall be back. I'll lawn, senor, or tell the faith that I shall heal Posse with you, eh? Look, Murrieta, I'm here as a physician, not as an informer. You're abandoned. All right. But you're still a patient. What? If I recover, then I'm no longer a patient. What happened then, senor doctor? Then, young man, I shall do my duty as a citizen and report your whereabouts. Say, I believe you, senor, but you're at the strong. It shall recover fast. In fact, you shall see. I will meet you personally at the waterfall tomorrow. Well, the next afternoon, shortly before four, the good doctor rode up toward the waterfall. As he approached, he noticed a young boy, a lad of possibly 13 or 14, sitting nearby. Easy, boy. Easy. Easy. Oh, hello, son. Are you the only one here? See? See? They sent me to take you back to Cave. Eh, I should have expected that. Murrieta said he'd meet me at the waterfall. What can Murrieta never break promise, senor? Oh, no. Then why did he send you instead of coming himself? Senor Wacky never break promise in the whole life, but perhaps you need eyeglasses, senor doctor. Grief! Murrieta! What were you doing just guys? Well, you say you'll return alone, so to find out, Murrieta must make very sure. If you bring posse, well, senor, they not recognize me better than you. Yeah, from the sound of you, you must have passed the crisis and be on the road to recovery. Oh, see, it is like I tell you, I am almost well. In that case, Murrieta, I shall change the dressing, give you until 10 tomorrow morning to be out of here. At 10 o'clock, I'm reporting your whereabouts to the sheriff. When the doctor got home that night, he rode into his yard. He noticed an old man, a Mexican, half sitting, half leaning against his porch. A huge battered sombrero was perched on top of his tangled gray hair. And a brown cigarette, long since gone out, dangled from his lips. Are you waiting for me? Say, doctor, I wish knows of Murrieta. Murrieta? How did you know I was treating him? Oh, I know, senor. Is he well? Yes, only too well. Well, then, senor, doctor, you take this. Take money from you? No, no, thanks, just the same. Oh, but, senor, he is all right. You do work. Why should you pay? Murrieta didn't even offer to. Oh, but my dinner was so good as his, senor. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, keep your money. Hey, by the way, why are you so interested in Murrieta? I walk in his, how you call him, his nephew to me. Oh, well, well, I much obliged anyhow. Your nephew as well, and you hang on to your dinero. Good night, senor. Well, that's not to say, your doctor. Next morning, shortly after 9, the doctor left his house and headed for town in the sheriff's office. By the time he got there, it would be almost 10. Time to give the word that Murrieta's hideout had been found. He tied his horse at the hitch and rail and stepped upon to the board walk. And as he headed for the sheriff's office, he noticed the same old Mexican, this time leaning against the frame of a nifty doorway. What is that, senor? What are you doing here? Senor, you will not accept money. Por favorito. That make me feel better. Look, now we've been all over that before. You keep your money. Oh, but, Joaquin, you know it to your senor doctor. All right, all right. Then let Joaquin give it to me. Well, all right, doctor. Joaquin gives it to you here. Well, I'll be jiggered. Murrieta, another disguise. Then that was you at my house last night. Oh, see, I have been to your house all night. All night? Yes. What in mercy's name for? Well, doctor, you say you do not tell sheriff until 10 o'clock this morning. Murrieta, he must be sure. And you have the gall to come to town. Stand right out here on the street, two doors from the sheriff's office. Murrieta, he must be sure. Well, this time you overplayed your hand. I'm going in and report you right now before you can get out of town. Well, senor, you give me word you do not tell sheriff before 10 o'clock. It is still four minutes away. Now, if you wish to break word, you go right ahead. But what you going to tell sheriff Joaquin look like, huh? Old man, small boy, maybe even fox, eh? He not ever know what to look for, senor doctor. Get up. Almost. Adios, senor doctor. And Murrieta will never forget you.