 Ranger Bill, warrior of the woodland, struggling against extreme odds, traveling dangerous trails, fighting the many enemies of nature. This is the job of the guardian of the forest, Ranger Bill, pouring rain, freezing cold, blistering heat, snow, floods, bears, rattlesnakes, mountain lions. Yes, all this in exchange for the satisfaction and pride of a job well done. Say, do you have a dog? If you do, you love him, don't you? Well, this is the story of a great dog who lived on a ranch near Naughty Pine. His name was Bim. Bim's masters were Otto Jorgensen and his two sons, Eric and Paul. Now, Bim was a very unusual dog, yet he wasn't any different from your dog in lots of ways. His love and devotion to his masters were boundless. Bim is gone now. That great dog heart is still. Those who love his memory are gathered in the lobby of the newly built Memorial Clinic for Animals. All of the Rangers are there, and Bill is the master of ceremonies for the dedication of this wonderful animal hospital. Let's join the crowd as they talk together. Quite a crowd of folks gathered here, almost filled the lobby to do. Ah, Bim, great dog, have many friends. I didn't realize so many people knew him. Yes, Bim was quite a dog, all right. This animal hospital is a fitting memorial to him. Bill, Otto's coming this way. Oh, I guess he wants me to start. Bill, would you begin the ceremony, please? Why, sure, Otto. Uh, folks, we're gathered here today to dedicate the Bim Memorial Clinic for Animals. A building that is more than brick and steel and concrete. This hospital is a memorial to a great dog that we all loved and whose memory we'll cherish for a long, long time. The idea for this building originated with Otto Jorgensen and his two sons. They wanted this clinic to be a living token of their love and esteem for their dawn. A good deal of the money came from folks like yourselves. This hospital and clinic was built for the study and treatment of animal diseases so that the animals may enjoy a fuller and longer life. To the memory of Bim, a great dog, and his heroic deeds, we dedicate this building with all its equipment and staff. Also, so that no other animal will have to suffer the same slow and painful death, we dedicate the scientific research that will go on inside these walls. Thank you. Mr. Jefferson. Mr. Jefferson. May I talk to you a minute? Why, sure. What's on your mind? I'm Ed Sloan. I'm a writer for Bencroft Newspapers and Dog Lovers Magazine. I see. We've a combined circulation of half a million. I'd like to write the story of Bim's life, if I may. And I gather you're the one I ought to see. Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Sloan, but that's not within my authority. You'll have to talk to Otto Jorgensen and his two sons. Perhaps they'll help you. I understand. But I don't know Mr. Jorgensen. I'd be glad to introduce you. They're over on the other side of the lobby talking to some friends. Mr. Sloan, I don't know how well I can tell this story, but maybe Bill can help me out in a few places. First thing, I ought to say, I wasn't too sold on Bim at first. Oh, why not, Mr. Jorgensen? Well, I'd always set my heart on only the pedigree dog. Bim was just a gangly puppy. Good blood, but a mixture. Bim actually was rather a badly put-together mass of fur, big paws, and powerful body. I never thought he'd amount to much to tell you the truth. How wrong I was. I'll never forget, one day when Bim was about six months old, Paul and Eric was playing with Bim on the front lawn. Come on, Ziggy Bim! Get Eric! What in the name of common sense are you doing, playing with that hound on the front lawn? We, uh, dead. And that is weak. What's gotten into you boys? Look at that lawn. And look at my flower beds. You let that mud run around in my prized flowers. I'm sorry, Dad. It's our fault. Ever since you've had that pooch, things ain't been the same around here. Well, I'm gonna get rid of him. Oh, no, Dad, please. Don't make us get rid of Bim. Oh, all right. One more chance. But if this happens again, out he goes. Understand? I was very angry at the time, but I saw no reason to change my opinion about Bim. But as time went on, gradually he grew out of the awkward stage. At nine months he began to show signs of becoming a powerful dog who could run like the wind. I was pleased, but I still didn't think he'd be much more than a pet for the boys. And I really didn't intend to make good my threat of throwing him out. I knew it would break the boy's heart. He was their dog. Well, the first in the series of outstanding acts of bravery and heroism occurred when Bim was ten months old. Eric and Paul got the habit of taking Bim out on the range with them every spare moment they could find. Let's see if we can find any more of those swell-colored rocks, Paul. Okay. That's a good idea, Eric. What kind of rocks did Dad call them? I don't know. Something like qu-quar- Quarts! Yeah, that's it. Hey, let's head for that ridge over there, huh? Okay. I'll race you. Come on, Rife! Come on, Skeeter! We've seen no rabbit. Hey, look at these rocks, Paul. Those are the nicest we've found yet. You know, Eric, the Lord sure made rocks beautiful, didn't he? And how? Hey, let's move this big rock over so we can get the smaller one out. Okay. Say when. Now. That's good enough. Now, let's cut those... Don't move, Paul. That rattle will strike just as quick as we move a muscle. Yeah. You said it. Look at the size of him. Where'd he come from? I don't know. Must have come out from behind the other big rock when we moved the smaller one. Eric, looks like we're going to have to stand here all day. That's better than getting bit. He hasn't coiled yet. Maybe he'll go away. Oh, yeah. He's crawling right at us. What do we do? Hey, Paul, look. The rattle is not after us. You see something? It's Bim. The rattle sees Bim. They're going to fight. Let's get back. That snake is a matter of rock. Come on, Bim. Get it. Cut him. Hey, Bim's killed the rattle. Good boy. We've got to get home and tell Dad about this. When we said it, now maybe Dad will believe that Bim's a real good dog. Eric and Paul came home with a big yarn about Bim killing a big rattle snake. I didn't believe it. I just couldn't believe that Bim had the courage and fired at him to tackle and kill a live rattle. I was at the corral when the boys came in and told me this quawper. It's a truth, Dad. Bim did kill the rattle. Come on now, fellas. I wasn't born yesterday. How could Bim kill a big rattle, especially one as big as you say it was? We can prove it, Dad. All right. How? We'll show him to you. We tied a rope to the rattle's tail and dragged him here. Oh, yes. I got to see him. Come on over to the horse barn, Dad. The rattle is outside on the ground. Okay, let's go. There, Dad. Take a look. Yeah. And Bim killed him all by himself. The boys had me where they wanted me. I examined the dead snake and could usually see where Bim's teeth had done their job right in back of the head. I was still pretty pigheaded about it all. I told the boys that Bim's killing the rattle was an isolated incident and he'd probably never do one thing else. It was worthwhile. You say that was the first big incident in Bim's life, Mr. Jorgensen? Yes, it was, Mr. Sloan. The second incident followed six months later. Winter was close by, and I had sent Paul out to round up some wild cattle. By wild cattle, I mean the cattle that leave the herd and shift for themselves during the grazing season. Let's go up this canyon, Bim. Come on, boy. Yeah, there's a couple of wild ones, Bim. Let's get behind them and cry them out of there. Hiya, hiya. This r-sketer had stepped onto a chuck hole and thrown Paul against the canyon wall. The boy had a broken collar bone, a fractured shin bone, and he was very badly bruised and shaken up. Bim started licking his face and hands, and Paul slowly came to. He was crying from pain. Bim, I'm hurt bad. Go find sketer. Bring him back. Bim left Paul and went after the horse. He picked up sketer's trail and soon caught up with him. Sketer was over his initial scare now and was just browsing in the grass. Fortunately, the bridal straps was hanging down, and Bim took them in his teeth and immediately led the horse back to Paul. Oh. Good boy, Bim. Lay down, sketer. Lay down, big fella. And a boy. Thanks, sketer. Now, hold still, boy. I tried to... crawl across the saddle. Just a little bit farther. I made it. Stop, sketer boy. Stop. In case you don't know, Mr. Sloan, it's rather a difficult job for a horse to get up with a rider on his back. And Paul wasn't such pain that he didn't realize he wasn't balanced properly across the saddle. So when he told sketer to get up, Paul fell off. Back home, Eric and I began to get worried when Paul and Bim didn't show up for supper. It got to be about nine o'clock. Then I decided to do something. Dad, what could have happened to him? I don't know, Eric, but I'm gonna find out. I'm glad Bim's with him anyway. What good will Bim do if Paul's in serious trouble? Don't talk that way, Dad. Bim's real special when you need him. Sure, sure, son. You saddle up the horses. I'm gonna call Bill Jefferson. You lead the way, Otto. We'll pick up the trail when we get into the area. Okay, Bill. If Grey Wolf and Stumpy can't find him, we can always get blood on. Yep. Is there enough light to see the trail, fellas? Plenty light, Bill. Trail very clear. Oh, oh, boy. Come on! Sign's kind of messed up here, isn't it? Can you make it out? Is this where they had the trouble? What's it say, Grey Wolf? This sign says horse and dog go into small canyon ahead. This sign says cattle, maybe half a dozen head, come out of canyon. That's it. Paul and Bim was rounded up wild cattle. Over here it says that horse, come on again. Let the dog come out. Did they go back or were they chasing the cattle? Over here, Otto, Bill. What'd you find, Grey Wolf? See something different? Look here. Dog walk in front of horse. They go back in canyon. I say dog lead horse back into canyon. Well, I'll buy that, sonny. That means Paul and Bim are in that canyon. Unless I miss my guess. You agree, Grey Wolf? Stumpy right. Let's get into that canyon. Look forward, Grey Wolf. They should be close by now. That's Skeeter, fellas. Throw your light to the left. Look at that dog. He'd cover Paul with his own body to keep him warm. Afterward, Paul told us the whole story. Then I knew I'd been wrong and the boys were right. We had a great dog in him. So I asked the boys to forgive me. From that time on, Bim and the boys and I became an inseparable force. Then the day came when the catastrophe at Pearl Harbor plunged us into World War II. And the boys came to me with a request. Dad. Uh-huh. Dad, we've been reading in the papers how the Armed Services need dogs. That's right, Dad, and uh... Well, we'd like to send Bim. You... You want to send Bim to war? Sure. We were too young to enlist ourselves, so... And we want to do our part to help win the war? Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, boys? Yep. We thought about it a lot. You realize, of course, that Bim might be killed in action. We've thought about that, too, Dad, and... Yes? Well, a lot of soldiers might get killed, but then they might not, too. That's right. Bim's really tough, Dad. I'm not sure he'll take care of himself. So I thought, far be it for me to dampen the patriotism of my sons. I was proud of both of them the next morning when we walked into the recruiting station for the Marine Corps in Nazi Pine. In no time at all, Bim was in the service of our country. We said goodbye to Bim, and I'm not ashamed to say that, just like the boys, tears was rolling down my cheeks. Bill, you take over the story from here. Well, yeah, I think you can tell about Bim's war record better than I can. All right, Otto. I sure appreciate your helping me, Mr. Jefferson. I don't want to leave a thing out of Bim's life. Well, it so happened, Mr. Sloan, that I was with the Third Marines and Bougainville, same as Bim. I got the story firsthand from the fellas that had Bim with them. It was pretty rough going. A company of the First Battalion was trying to flank the enemy, but they weren't having much success because they were pinned down by a Japanese machine gun nest set up in a pillbox which the artillery just couldn't get. Captain, we won't move another inch until we knock out that pillbox. I'm well aware of that, Sergeant. Gotta be patient for a while. We're trying to rush. We'll lose a lot of men. But, sir, it's the only way we'll ever get past them. The artillery and the mortise shells bounce off that thing like water off a duck spoon. Hey, Bim will get them out of there for anything. And believe me, they'll think I scream and me-me-hit them if Bim ever gets into that pillbox. Here comes a corporal now with Bim. Well, that's fine. Corporal would ask you reporting. Good corporal. Bim, how are you, boy? I hope this isn't too risky, sir. I wouldn't want Bim to get it. Corporal, please don't get the idea that these dogs are out here for us to use or we don't want to send in men. We'll use them only where they can be used to better advantage than men, see? They're not cannon fodder, understand? Yes, sir. Now, look, you see the fire lane from here? Oh, yeah, yeah, yes, sir, I do. Send Bim up the left side. We'll give him covering fire until he jumps for the window. Then we'll cease fire and rush the pillbox. Prisoners are on their way back to the stockade, sir. Very good, Sergeant. How's Bim? He's wounded, sir. What? Why didn't you tell me? Bim comes before the prisoners. Don't you know that? Take it easy, sir. Doc's looking at him now. The wound isn't bad, sir. He's got a knife in the leg. Not bad. Oh, okay. It's fine. In the leg, huh? Yes, sir. We'll see that he's carried to the rear in a stretcher. That's an order, Sergeant. Yes, sir. It'll be done, sir. Even if I have to carry him myself. That's the story of Bim's service with the Marines. Thanks, Mr. Jefferson. Is there more, Mr. Jorgensen? Yes, Mr. Sloan, there is. We received telegram from the war department saying that Bim had been wounded. Though not seriously. Uncle Sam was sending him home. They also said that Bim would receive the Purple Heart. Bim recovered the full use of his leg, and in about six months you'd never know he'd been wounded. I'll say you could, Mr. Sloan. He was as fast as he ever was. Buddy sure grew up, though, while he was away. Seemed quieter, more serious. That's right. One day, a year after Bim came back from the war, I was dragging our road. We have a private road that leads from the highway to the house and barns. I had the tractor hitched to a weighted drag, and I was trying to even out the rough spots. I was alone. That is, except for Bim. He was playing around nearby somewhere. I don't know exactly what happened to this day. All I knew was that something made the tractor overturn, and I was getting hungry. Bim, help me. Bim, Bim. Dig me out of here, will you? Good boy, Bim. That's right. Under my face first. So I really did. That's right under my body. Now, now see if I... That's it. Good boy. I'm almost clear. That's all right. You can scratch me if you want. That's it. I'm coming out. And you mean to tell me that your dog dug you right out from under that tractor? Yes, Mr. Sloan. Amazing as it sounds, he not only dug the ground out from under my face so I could breathe, but he dug the ground out from under my chest and body. Enough for me to crawl painfully out, broken back and all that. Sounds unbelievable. All of it was in the local newspapers. What a dog he must have been. Would you care to tell me how he died? Yes. About a year ago, we noticed that Bim was beginning to fail. Not too quickly at first, but noticeably. We took him to Dr. Crawford, a veterinarian here in Naughty Pine. Dr. Crawford examined him and said that Bim had a malignant tumor. There wasn't anything we could do to save him. Just a matter of time. It was heartbreaking to watch a dog so full of life and courage as Bim was. Slowly to waste away the skin and bones. I'm sure it was a heartbreaking experience, Mr. Jorgensen. We watched him this way for three months. Finally, the boy spoke to me about it. I'm glad they did because I wouldn't have spoken to them if they hadn't brought up the subject first. So, in the morning, three of us went to Bim's bed to take him to Dr. Crawford. It was like visiting a sick and dying friend. Eric kneeled down to awaken him. Bim. Bim. Come on, fellow. Wake up. He hasn't moved a muscle. Let me see, Eric. Yes, boys. Bim's dead. We were glad we didn't have to take him to Dr. Crawford, though all of us were broken-hearted that we'd lost him. The men at the Naughty Pine Legion Post were only too happy to give Bim a military funeral and we buried him in our front yard. I make no bones about saying that I cried like a baby. Here was a dog that had given us all he had. And when he needed our help, there wasn't a thing we could do except watch him die. Several months passed by and I talked to Dr. Crawford. I offered to contribute a sum of money for an animal clinic and hospital if he would head it up. He agreed. Dr. Crawford and the local newspapers left the story out and many, I should say, a host of Bim's friends and those who love dogs gave to the fund. The result you see before you. Well, that's the story, Mr. Sloan. I don't know if I'll be able to do justice to this story, Mr. Jorgensen, but I'm sure gonna try my best. Well, that's all we ask, Mr. Sloan. Before we leave, I'd like you to see the bronze tablet. Yes, I'd like to. Read it, will you, Bill? In loving memory of our dog Bim, he loved and asked no love in return. He knew no selfishness except to duty. He knew no fear except that he hadn't done enough. He gave all he had and asked no recompense. This tablet is inscribed for all to read, realizing that Bim lived as we should live. The Jorgensen's. Boys and girls, the story you've heard is fictional, of course, so far as there actually being a dog named Bim is concerned. But all the incidents which have occurred in the story are true, for dogs actually performed the unusual and heroic deeds that were told to you today. Well, we'll see you next week for more adventure with...