 Johnny dollar. Hi there Johnny. This is Jake. Jake Hessler out in Kingman, Arizona. Well, hi Jake. How are you and how's Worldwide Mutual doing these days? Me and Worldwide Mutual just fine. But it's one of my greater Southwest clients got me worried. Well, I wish you'd make up your mind which one of these insurance companies you're really working for, Jake. You want to know the truth, Johnny? Let's have it. Neither one of them, really. I'm trying so hard to retire and take it easy out here in God's country that I just don't. Why do you know I myself haven't bothered to get out and sell a single policy in over six months now? No kidding. But as long as those two companies are willing to pay me good money just to head up an office for them and try to keep an eye on the boys they do have outselling for them, well, why not, huh? Why not? Only one trouble. Yeah, Jake. Any problems come along. You just guess who gets them dump rocks bang in their lap. Well, what's the matter with that? Huh? Man, what do you mean? Well, all you do is turn around and dump them in my lap. Oh, well now, Johnny. Well, it's the truth. You'll reprobate and you know it. What is it this time, Jake? A young fella that was insured by the San Francisco office. Yeah. Pulled mine. One of those old ones over towards Lake Mojave. Uh-huh. Yeah, and he's, um, he's up and disappeared. So maybe you can come out here and see if you can find him. Okay? Well, as long as it means a chance to warm some of this winter chill out of my bones and as long as I always manage to get in some good bass fishing out your way and since you're willing to pay all my expenses while I do it. Huh? Well, why are you fishing over at that Lake Mojave resort? Well, I was an old friend of mine by the name of Jake Hessler said just a minute ago. Well, why not? Well, you come out here and, um, I will see. Okay, Jake. I'll fly out to Las Vegas, rent me a car and see you sometime in the morning. B.S. Radio Network brings you Mandel Kramer in the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Now, submitted by a special investigator, Johnny Dollar, to the Greater Southwest Insurance Company branch office in Kingman, Arizona. Following is an account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the Golden Dream Matter. On item one, 193.49 for a plane to New York and a jet to Las Vegas. Item two, $23 even. That covers a couple of taxi fares, dinner, a good night's sleep at the Hotel Sahara, then breakfast the next morning. Item three is 50 bucks deposit on a rental car. I headed southeast through Boulder City and crossed Hoover Dam at the foot of Lake Mead. And again, I marveled at the way man's ingenuity entranced the truth. I headed south on 93. In the town of Kingman, Jake's office is on the main street above the Conroy-Murkentown. Tall, lean, lanky and well-tanned as always. He was wearing a white Stetson cowboy shirt, blue jeans, and fancy boots. Well, now maybe you will have a chance to get in some fishing over there to Lake Mahave, Johnny. Nothing suit me better, Jake. You know it. You see, the one man, the one man. You see, the one man who can help you get on the trail of young Kingsley. Kingsley? Myron Kingsley, that young mining engineer I told you about just disappeared. Oh, I see. And the man who's going to be the most helped you finding out what's happened to him is the manager of that Lake Mahave resort, Mr. H. R. Pratt. I'm Pratt. I know him well, very well. I know you do. And the old mine that Kingsley come to investigate the Golden Dream is right close by there. Investigate how, Jake? To see if somebody isn't being took but royally. How do you mean? Well, some old coot name of Marty Spiller has been selling a lot of stock in the Golden Dream. Uh-oh. Mostly the people who live way back east. And who are in a very good position to see just what they've bought into them. Right. Account of most of them, the suckers who fall for that kind of stock promotion are too poor to come out and have a look. I know what you mean. Go on, Jake. Well, there's one stockholder evidently got suspicious and could afford to do something about it. I mean, he hired young Kingsley to run down from Frisco to have a look-see and then make him a report. Uh-huh. Being a client of our company, Kingsley come around to me for directions. I sent him over there, told him to stay at the Lake Mojave place. And, uh, well, uh, that's the last I've saw or heard of him. Oh, when was that, Jake? In a week now. I see. But only three days in Sam Pratt's phone me that he hadn't showed up in his motel unit there. Mm-hmm. Okay, then. As long as Ham is the one who can put me on Kingsley's trail. And I told Ham you'd be over. Good. Then I'll hit the highway again. Very, excuse me. Hansler? Well, we were just talking about... Huh? That he sure is. Uh, for you. For me? It's, um, it's Ham Pratt. Oh. Here. Thank you. Sam, how are you? Oh, pretty good. Only pretty good? It, uh, looks like it. You've made this trip for nothing, Johnny. What do you mean by that? We found young Kingsley. Or, rather, what's left of him. Oh? In the water at the bottom of a deep, old abandoned mine shaft. Must have slipped and fallen in. I see. I haven't been able to get down to him yet, but, well, I guess there's not much point in your coming over here. Ham? Yes, Johnny? Did you say an abandoned mine shaft? Yes. One that's just been sitting there accumulating water in the bottom of it for years. Then it's not one of those that he went to investigate? Well, no, not exactly. Well, maybe I had better take a look. I got back into my car and drove westward across the desert on Route 68 over Union Pass. Then down the long 17-mile grade to Davis Dam. But instead of crossing it, I swung right for three miles to Lake Mojave Resort. As I got out in front of the office, Ham Pratt pulled up in his Jeep. Lay your bags right there in your car, Johnny. Come on, where do you see it? I am. Okay. Whatever you say. Hey, how long have you been packing your gun like that? Man, you know, Johnny, in case we run across the desert. Man, you know, Johnny, in case we run across some Jack rabbits or a coyote or something. Now, get aboard. Sure. Or something, did you say? I'll be honest about it. Since I talked to you, I kind of got to thinking about it. Thinking about what, Ham? Oh, about possibilities. Like maybe in case young Kingsley didn't just fall into that old mine shaft. I know what you mean. After all, if Kingsley was a mining engineer. And he was, Johnny. And I mean a practical one, not just a student. He is a good one. He knew his business. Well, then he should have known enough to take care of himself and watch his step. Right. In other words, well, do you have any ideas, Ham? Plenty. Like maybe the owner of the Golden Dream, who didn't want it shown up that he was selling stock in a worthless mine? His name is Marty Spillick. He's the sort of character we don't like around here. How do you mean? Hang on now. Not much daylight left, so he'll take a short cut onto this side road, Jack. Oh-ho! Hey! You call this a road? There's an old flag of Charlie. He's the hallstrap in and out with a music. Don't worry. This tape will make it okay. I hope so. You were going to tell me about this Marty Spillick. Yeah, better wait now until we get to the Golden Dream. I mean really ridden one of them? Well, like everyone else, I've seen pictures of the boys in the army plowing through mud and sand, jumping over ditches, taking seemingly impossible hills and so on. But until you have actually been on one of them. And I mean on, not in. Until you have driven across this kind of rugged desert country. You ain't seen nothing. When the trail gave out, as it frequently did, where spring runoffs and winter rains had washed wrong, simply bounced across the desert, leaving and straddling streambeds and washes and anything else that stood in the way. We come to a high sandy hill and instead of circling it, we go right on up the side in low, low gear, slowing only at the top and drop off, then careen getting all the way. What a ride. But it finally got us on the main route to the Golden Dream and the sun was getting low. Get out and walk that trail. It's just a ledge on the side of that thing. If the mule wagons could hang on to it, we can. But just what has he done? All he's done is grind up and rewash the tailings. You know, the refuse material left over from the original washing or concentration or treatment of the ground up over. I guess that's the stuff that I've seen piled up outside all these mine tunnels that we've passed along the way. Yeah. Just worthless rock, which the valuable metals, the gold mostly, has been taken out. I see. And how by rewashing that stuff now, man, he's been able to back his claim that he's got to work in mine. Well, tell me, Ham, has he ever got any worthwhile amount of gold out of those tailings? No, sir. That hasn't kept him from selling the new issue of stock now, man. Oh, boy, what a racket. Yes, sir. No wonder he'd want to get rid of anybody who would know and be willing to testify that his mine is worthless. Like young Kingsley. Get his party up and prove. I mean, prove that. Now, wait, here we are. Let's see. Wait a minute, Ham. Isn't that the golden dream still up ahead there? The main shaft and tunnels, yes. There, one of those calls are open. That big flashlight, will you? See you half a mile away with that, man? Huh? Besides, just get the door. Okay. Yeah. But holding this mound over here to the right, you see it with the timber rigging over it? Yeah. Now, come on, now. We'll look over the edge with that powerful flashlight, you'll be able to see the body down there for yourself. All right. Listen, Ham. Yeah? Where is Spiller? Where's he been all this time? Pretty good alibi, I'm afraid. The day after Kingsley got here, started poking around. Spiller apparently left. Apparently, you say. Yeah. Said he had to go over somewhere in California. Hadn't been seen around here since. Hang on to one of these timbers, lean over the edge of this hole and look down. With the help of the powerful flashlight, I looked. About 100 feet straight down in that jagged-sided hole, floating in the water that filled the bottom of the shaft, was the body. Ham was absolutely certain it was Kingsley. So, job number one was to bring it up. Only then could we determine whether he'd been killed before plunging down there, and if so, how? And if possible, by whom? If you lower me down there, Johnny, on one of these ropes, you can feed it around one of these timbers for a break, so let me down these. I just told everything for a second, Ham. Look, you're the one with the big muscles, so I'm the one who's going down that shaft. Well, now, listen, I'd lot sooner trust you to lower me properly than I'd trust myself to hold that heavy carcass of yours. Also, it'll give you the job of hauling up the body and then me. There you say, Johnny. It'll serve you right if I make you climb back up. I tucked the big flashlight into my belt, and Ham slowly lowered me into that deep, black, rock-sided shaft. Hanging there on that rope, touching the sides only where there were juttings and ledges was pretty exciting. I was glad the rope was the long one, and that Ham was on the other end. Along the way, there were several small tunnels leading away from the shaft. But with the flashlight, I could see that they were only short ones ending in piles of rubble until just before I reached the water. Ham, a clear one leading off from here. A big one. I'll lead over to the main shaft of the Golden Drill. It has yet been discovered to extract money from your paycheck. Probably the nearest thing to it goes with the name of the Payroll Savings Plan. Oh, you might notice a shrinkage in your check the first few paydays, but then something happens. You no longer expect to have that extra cash in hand. In effect, you forget all about it, except for those pleasant reminders that come your way periodically in the form of United States savings bonds. The Payroll Savings Plan, the automatic sure route to a secure future. Okay, so I cheated a little. When the rope that had been holding me suddenly slackened, it wasn't I that splashed into the water at the bottom of that mine shaft. It was one of the big rocks at the opening of the tunnel that I'd found down there. One of the two or three, I grabbed that frantically to pull myself into the tunnel as the hundred feet or so of heavy rope came whipping down past me and I barely made it. I kept the flashlight off, so as not to show that I was still alive and kicking. Because then, after a little more of the gunshots, and then huge boulders were rolled over the edge and plunged down where I was supposedly struggling in the water. Instead of using the light again, I tore up the long sloping passageway hoping and praying to somehow get me back to the surface. Half a dozen times, I had to clear away piles of rubble with only my bare hands, but I was thinking of ham of what might have happened to him, what still might happen to him. Finally, a pile of rubble blocked off the passageway entirely, but then through a low narrow little side tunnel so filled with debris with a shoring and given way that I had to crawl along on my belly, I reached the surface. It was quite dark by now, but I didn't dare show my light. Instead, I walked slowly, quietly around to get my bearings. Then I saw the Jeep, and above it the timber's ham had used to snub the rope we outlined against the darkening sky. In silhouette, I could faintly see two men up there, but in the dark, I couldn't tell which was which, but at least I knew that ham was still alive. But for how long? Because one of them was carefully tying the other one down to a ten by ten that lay only a few feet from the edge of the shaft. Had the spitter gone mad? Was he going to shove that timber with its human cargo into that shaft? No Indian ever crawled along over the floor of the desert any more softly than I did, and I cursed the fact that I hadn't a gun that I'd left it with ham that cut down my weight. A couple of times a jack-grabber jumped out from under my feet and I hunched over and froze, hoping the man I was stalking wouldn't look around. Or if he did, that he'd mistake me for one of the many boulders scattered about, or a clump of sage. But then I came to a clear space a few feet of it that I had to cross to reach him. To reach him before he could shove that timber into the pit. It was so dark now, I could only see him as a blurred shadow. But all he needed was to hear me, whichever one had begun into the deep breath, then rose up to make the dash across the open space. It's okay, Tony. What? Just take it easy. That man there did bring you up and out, huh? Thank heaven you're okay, Tony. And the main thing is that you're all right. Except for a bump on the head from the butt of his pistol. Marty Spiller. Marty Spiller sneaked up behind me when I was letting you down there and really laid one on to me. And I came to, I saw him throwing rocks down there at you, so, well, I figured I'd better get up and stop him. I was tying him up just now, then fastening the line so I could work my way down and help you to get back up. And whatever gave you the idea that I was still alive. Johnny, if a lousy punk like Spiller could kill off a man like you, well, this I gotta say. I hope you never do. We brought up Kingsley's body the next morning. The bullet that had killed him before he'd been dropped from the mine shaft had come from Spiller's gun. This test proved that conclusively. So again, it's up to the course. Expense account total? $451.80. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Well, here's our star to tell you about next week's story. Next week? Well, as you listen to it, just remember that old saying. Ike and Mike, they look alike. And join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. That John Stone, produced and directed by Bruno Zorato Jr. Music supervision by Ethel Huber. Johnny Dollar is played by Mandel Cramer. Also featured in our cast were Cliff Carpenter, Bob Dryden and Sam Ruskin. Be sure to join us next week, same time, same station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is Warren Sweeney speaking.