 A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty hyo silver, the Lone Ranger. For this faithful Indian companion Toto, the daring and resourceful mask rider 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 hoof beats of the great horse, Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again. Come on Silver, let's go big fellows, come on Silver, come on. Joshua Biddle was one of the first photographers to go into the west. He sat on the high seat, guiding the horses that pulled a great closed wagon that provided living quarters as well as facilities to process his pictures. His pretty daughter Flo was at his side. Yes indeed he Flo. This latest assignment is the biggest thing that ever happened to me. I can hardly wait to see the west coast and the Pacific Ocean and oh dad won't it be a wonder. I tell you honey, it makes me downright proud to be working for the government. Why my name will go into history if I can make the kind of pictures Uncle Sam wants. But certainly will. But there's just one thing I don't save it. What's that there? How did that Colonel know where he could reach me? Why, there wasn't more than a handful of people who knew we were camped at the edge of Pineville? Yes that's so. In spite of that the Colonel's letter came right straight to me at Pineville. Here it is. Well let me see it again. Let's take a look. Let me see. Joshua Biddle Esquire, care of postmaster Pineville Post Office, Larraby County, Arizona Territory. Flo! Flo! Dad what's the matter? Look over yonder. There's an angle and torches from the rear. Might be a sticker. Get my rifle out of the boot. Oh, get it. Here you are. Do you want me to take the rain so you can shoot? Wait a minute daughter. Wait. Wait. Great D, honey. We don't need that rifle. Put her away again. I know who that horseman is. Dad, it's the masked man. Sure it is. It's the man who saved our lives in Greenville. I still have the silver bullet he gave me. Biddle! Hold the team! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm glad I caught up with you, Biddle. How are you Miss Biddle? I'm very well. Thank you. You know, Missy, I was thinking about you just yesterday when I got a letter. I wanted to tell you about it. I wanted to show you. I'm so proud of dad. He's been selected by the government at Washington. Were you going to show me that letter? Well, yes. Then let's say you should keep the mission confidential. Huh? Why? Oh, my oh, my. Yes, I reckon it did. The government doesn't want to generally know that you are going to make pictures of the United States defenses on the Pacific coast. How did you know? The letter was written by Colonel Gilchrist, wasn't it? Yes. I gave him your name. You did. So that's how he knew we were at Pineville. Between now and the time you report to Captain Arnold, don't tell anyone about your mission. It might be a good idea if you would destroy that letter from Washington. Very well said. Flo, I gave it to you. Oh, where is it? I've lost it. What? Oh, Dad, I'm sorry. When you first saw this math man coming, you startled me. I dropped the letter when I reached for the rifle and it flew out of the wagon. I saw it, it went over the edge of that cliff. Thunderation! Well, it probably doesn't matter. Biddle, you'll have to go back to Pineville. Go back? Yes. Your testimony will be needed at the trial of Gormley and Bates. But I left photographs of those two worthless crooks. Photographs of both of them selling rifles to the Indians. Unfortunately, the photographs won't hold up as evidence in court. You'll have to testify as an eyewitness. But that'll take time. And that is supposed to go to the Pacific Coast as soon as possible. The delay will be just a couple of days and it won't matter. Well, if you say we've got to go back to Pineville, I guess that's it. Good. The sheriff will be expecting you. Adios. Montellis! Atrian Blodgett, the attorney who was to represent Gormley and Bates, had done considerable work for the pompous banker, Amos Quinton. He had a shrewd look in his eye when he entered the banker's office. Good morning, Quinton. I want to see you. Oh, it's you, Blodgett. I'm busy this morning. You're busy now. You're busy with me and everything else is better. Do you mind if I sit down? I say I'm busy. Well, then it doesn't matter whether you mind or not. Oh, see here, Blodgett. My time is... Your time is valuable. I know. That's why you can't afford to spend 10 or 15 years in jail. That's enough, Blodgett. Look out the window, Quinton. See the sheriff's office across the street? There's a jail cell in the back of the office. The two men are languishing in that cell while they await their day in court. Yes, I know. Gormley and Bates are accused of selling stolen army rifles to Chief Whitefoot at North Branch. They're convicted, Quinton. They will name you as an accomplice. What? Why, that's preposterous. Not at all. Bates has proof that you helped to secure the rifles from the army. But how can he have proof? I got it for him. A few letters signed by you. You can't find out. No, no, no, no. I must protect my clients, you know. Gormley and Bates are my clients. What are you getting at, Blodgett? Well, the point is simply this. My clients don't want to go to prison. You can't blame them for that, can you? Well... You wouldn't want to go to prison either. But, uh... believe me, Quinton, that's where you're going if Gormley and Bates are convicted. Just what do you want of me? Well... Now we're getting somewhere. I'm to pay you for representing the prisoners, is that it? Partially. It shouldn't be hard to get that case thrown out of court. As I understand it, the only evidence consists of a photograph. That can hardly be accepted as evidence. There's no other eyewitness to the transaction between the prisoners and the Indians. Oh, but there is an eyewitness. Two of them, in fact. Joshua Biddle and his daughter returned to Pineville. What? They returned less than an hour ago. A big red wagon is at the edge of town. What's Biddle doing back here? Why did he return? He came back to appear in court to make sure Gormley and Bates get all that's coming to them. So, Quinton, it's your move. Yeah, but what can I do? And I don't know, that's up to you. But you'd better do something. You'd better make sure that Joshua Biddle doesn't get the court as a witness. Well, what do you... Biddle's death would, uh, solve everything. You suggesting that? There was a time when you had quite a bit of influence with those Indians out in North Branch Valley. Now, if Biddle couldn't some way incur the enmity of the Indians... I understand. Of course, it's your problem, but, uh, there's any way I can help. Maybe there is. Now, nothing illegal, you understand? Nothing illegal! You needn't put all that sanctimonious act with me, Lodgett. You'll do anything of the prices, right? I can afford to pay the right price. The way? You talk as if you have an idea. I have, and it's a good one. Come on, we're gonna call on Joshua Biddle. I want to meet that photographer. MUSIC Accompanied by the lawyer, Banker Quinton went directly to Joshua Biddle's wagon and introduced himself and Blodgett. Blodgett? Blodgett, you say? Aren't you the lawyer who's going to represent those prisoners? Yes, I am. Well, you needn't think that you can make any kind of a deal with me in flow. We're going into that there trial court and see that those critters get all that's coming to them. No, no, Mr. Biddle, Mr. Blodgett will simply see that they get a fair and impartial trial. However, we didn't come here to discuss the trial. Haven't better. I wanted to talk to you because of my interest in your art, in photographs. Yes? I've seen some of your pictures, sir. They're wonderful, just simply wonderful. Oh, uh, is that black box the camera? That's what it is. I'll show you how it works. You'll be in town for several days, I expect. Yeah, until after the trial is over. Well, it'll be a couple of days before the trial comes up. I'd like to engage you to make some pictures while you're around here. Oh. Some pictures I might include in a historical paper I'm preparing. Well, Dad's taken a lot of pictures around here. I want some pictures of the Indians in Whitefoot's village. Quentin gave the photographers some cash in advance after discussing the photographs that were to be made in Whitefoot's village. Then, while the banker and the lawyer walked back to Quentin's office, Blodgett's curiosity got the better of him. Let me have it, Quentin. What's your plan? The photographer will go to Whitefoot's village tomorrow afternoon. Yes? You're going up there tonight. You're going to sneak into the village with a black box that will look just like Biddle's camera. You're going to have one me? I'll make it myself. And if the Indians are as curious as I think they are, they'll find that it's bad medicine. When Biddle and his daughter go into that village in the afternoon and unload their camera, well, I guarantee that they'll not be alive to appear in court. The Lone Ranger and Toto had gone to spend some time with Toto's friend, Chief Whitefoot, in the Indian village north of Pineville. The Hogan in which they slept was one of many that formed a large circle around a clearing about 100 yards in diameter. When the Lone Ranger wakened in the morning, he saw a black box about 18 inches square standing on a tripod in the center of the clearing. Toto, look out there. Oh, that looked like camera. Yes. I wonder if Biddle is here in the village. Maybe him come to her nights. That Chief Whitefoot. What's he say, Toto? Him call an Indian. Tell him, go take close look at black box. Perhaps we'd better tell him about the photographer and his camera. Come on. Eat it up. Hold on. Thank you, God. Oh, morning, Whitefoot. Black box near console fire. Yes, where are the people who brought it? Not know. They must be nearby. Man and the girl, the big wagon, the strong horses. No stranger in village. No big wagon. You know about bad medicine? I know about that black box, Whitefoot. It isn't bad medicine. How it come in the console ring? I don't know. We look around, perhaps we can find the photographer's wagon. Or at least the tracks it made. Oh, tell your brave to leave the camera alone. They might break it. Camera? Yes. That's what it's called. Akimah Sambi, over there. Indian, look at camera. Better get over there before they break something. Big Indian got hold of string and camera. Whitefoot, tell your brave to leave that alone. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. As one of the Indians pulled a cord, the black box disappeared in a sheet of blinding flame. Through a cloud of smoke, the running mask man saw two Indians, motionless on the ground, and heard the chief's voice. Evil spirits send black box. Evil spirits send bad medicine. The mask man and tunnel reached the side of the fallen Indians, and quickly learned that both had been burned and stunned by the explosion, but neither had been killed. They looked up to see Whitefoot staring at them angrily. Whitefoot, what do you say? Black box, not bad medicine. But that was you. You speak with four tongue. What you say, not true. Black box, plenty, bad medicine. Braves hurt. Maybe die. Otto, the Indians seem to blame us for what's happened. You know people who bring black box here. You say big wagon. Man, girl. Oh, Whitefoot, we're going to find out who's responsible for this. But I promise you, it isn't the man and the girl we know. You find plenty quick. What do you say, Otto? What did you say, Otto? You can say mass man and tunnel find evil spirit, or we die by fire as sacrifice. 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. You are story. It was just a little while before noon when Adrian Blodgett walked into the office of the banker with a grin of smug satisfaction on his face. Close the door, Blodgett. Did you just get back to Pineville? Yes, and I'm happy to report a complete success. Sit down and tell me the details. I had no difficulty getting into the Indian village during the night. I set your infernal machine up on the tripod in the middle of the clearing. Then fixed it so a slight tug on the string it explode the blasting power. How did it work? Perfectly. You saw it? I waited in the hills until daybreak. I could see everything that went all in the village. A couple of redskins went up to inspect that black box. Their curiosity did the rest. One of them pulled the string. Were they killed by the explosion? I don't know. There was so much smoke I couldn't see very clearly. But I do know they were carried to one of the Hawkins. Good. Well, look out that window, Blodgett. There goes the photographer with his big wagon. Oh, yeah. On his way to the Indian village. What do you suppose will happen when he drives into that clearing and sets up his camera? Well, I'll tell you this, Quinton. I'd hate to be in his shoes. He doesn't know it, but he's riding in that wagon for the last time. While Whitefoot's people chanted to invoke the aid of Indian spirits to save the lives of the braves who had been injured by the blast, the Lone Ranger and Tuttle examined the ground around the village for the tracks of Joshua Biddle's wagon, but they found nothing. The masked man knew that his life and that of Tuttle were in danger. Whitefoot had been helpful and had allowed the two to travel far beyond the edge of the village, but only because the masked man had given his word of honor that he would not try to escape. We've been over the whole area, Tuttle. That's right. Biddle's wagon was nowhere near this village. There are plenty hoof marks. So many that it would be hopeless to try to pick out the marks for the horse that carried the dummy camera. You call it dummy camera? It wasn't a camera at all. It was a bomb that exploded when a string was pulled. Someone fixed it to resemble the photographer's camera. And who do that? I don't know. Why anyone do that? I can't imagine. I can't see how anyone could possibly benefit by setting a trap of that sort. Someone want to make Indian enemy of Biddlefeller. That's how it looks. You here, Kimu Sabi? Joshua Biddle. That's right. There's his wagon coming around the bend. What do you do here? I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Get the horses, Tuttle. Leave him over here. Biddle, rain up! Rain there! Hello! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa! Well, great day! I never expected to find you here. I thought you were going to stay in town until after the trial. Oh, we'll be in Pineville for the trial. Let me get down from this wagon and I can talk better. Well, you needn't worry about that trial, Mr. I promised you I'd be on hand to give testimony and I'll keep my word. Is that Whitefoot's village? Yes. We came here to make some pictures of the Indians. That's all right. We've got a chance to pick up a few dollars while we're waiting for the trial. We might as well leave the wagon right here, Flo. I'll open up the bag and get out the camera. While I'm setting her up, you can get some plates ready. Oh, wait a minute. Six alive. What's the matter? You said you can make some money. Who will pay you for the pictures? Well, sir, I've already been partly paid. Banker Quinton wants the pictures. Banker Quinton? Why does he want them? He said something about using them in a historical paper he's writing. That's strange. Why is it strange? Now, look, mister, the sun's getting lower all the time. If I want to get any pictures made today, he'll have to get going. I better listen to me. The Indians see you with your camera. They'll kill you. What's that? Someone sneaked into the village during the night and left a black box. It looked like your camera. When the Indians examined it, it exploded. Exploded? Oh, mercy. Fortunately, the two Indians who were nearest were not seriously injured. They'll recover. But they might very well have been blinded or killed. But who'd do such a thing? Why would anyone want to kill the Redskins? I think the bomb was intended to kill you. Me? Oh, my safe's alive. You mean I was to get my hands on that camera and be killed when I was examined? No, that's not it. The plan was to enrage the Indians so they would attack you when they saw your camera. But why? Why should anyone want to kill Dad or me? You said the banker sent you here. That's right. Did someone tell you it was a banker? Or did the banker talk to you himself? The banker Quentin himself came to see us. He had that lawyer man named Blodgett with him. Blodgett? Yes. He's to represent Cornley and Bateson Court. Oh, that's a connection. Here, forces. Good enough. Middle, you and your daughter get back on the wagon. Turn it around and get ready to return to Pineville. But I'm supposed to take pictures. Maybe I hadn't bet it. Better do as you're told. Howdy there, silver. I'll join you as soon as I've talked to Whitefoot. About what? What are you going to tell him? What are you going to do? Someone's going to pay for the injuries to those Indians. Easy, big fella. Steady. Come on, silver! Come on, stop! It was noon of the following day when Sheriff Billings sat at his desk, just a few yards from the barred door of the adjoining room where Gormley and Bates were confined. There's no use asking me questions, Bates. But lawyer Blodgett told me there'd be no evidence against us if the witnesses weren't in court. If Blodgett told you that, it's probably true. That's all I wanted to know. Bates, look who's coming in. Biddle. Hi there, Mr. Biddle. I didn't hear your wagon. Howdy. I left the wagon outside of town, Sheriff. I've got to talk to you private. What about? The mask man who captured the prisoner sent me here. What can I do, Biddle? Just name it. Better step outside so those crooks can't hear us. The Sheriff listened attentively while Joshua Biddle told of the explosion in Whitefoot's village and outlined the Lone Ranger's plan to learn who sent the bomb to the Indians. The following day, Banker Quentin left his office at the usual time to go home to his noonday meal. As he near the house, he saw a number of Indians standing near the porch. They eyed him with expressionless faces. He didn't know that one of them was Tato, the companion of the Lone Ranger. What's all this? What are you Indians doing around here? This. Chief Whitefoot. Is that right? Me, Chief Whitefoot. Well, if you don't want trouble, you better get back to your village. You have no business in town. Him. Him got plenty business. Black box, exploding village. Indians hurt. I don't know what you're talking about. Now you'd better go away from my house. Go on, famoos. Clear out. The banker tried to hide his inward apprehension as he went up the stairs and crossed the porch without a backward glance. He was due for a further surprise when he entered the house. Howdy, Mr. Clinton. What? But, Biddle, you here? Yeah, your housekeeper let me in so as I could wait for him. Biddle, did you get the pictures in the Indian village? Not yet. I figured I'd go this afternoon. Meanwhile, I wanted to get a picture of you here inside your house. But I don't want my... I've got my camera set up in the next room. I opened the window wide, so as to let in plenty of light. Hope you don't mind. But I... I don't want my picture taken. Just step into this room. The camera's all set up. Come in, Quentin. What? Masked? Who are you? What are you doing here? Hi, he's my friend. He saved my life when Bates and Gommley tried to kill me. Now, Quentin, it's your life that's in danger. The Indians are looking for the man who left a bomb in their village. It was fixed inside a black box that looked just like this camera. I don't know anything about it. Some of the Indians were badly hurt. They'll recover, but they might have been killed. If Biddle had unpacked his camera, Whitefoot's people would have blamed him for leaving the black box that exploded. They would probably have killed both Biddle and his daughter. That's what they've done, all right. Whitefoot and some other Indians are outside this house. What? Now, if they come to the window and see the camera in this room... Biddle, Biddle, get that camera out of here. The Indians will attack you. I don't know anything about it. You sent Biddle to the Indians because you wanted him killed. Now, you're to be the victim of your own scheme. No, no, please. You can't let those Indians get me. Go to that window, Biddle. Call Whitefoot to this side of the house. No, no, wait, wait. Listen, you've got to listen. Don't do it. I didn't take that bomb with the Indians. I swear I didn't. Who did? Oh, wait a minute. Let's talk this over. Answer my question. Who delivered that bomb? It was Blodgett, the lawyer. Blodgett, huh? That crook. He wanted me and Flo kill so we couldn't appear in court. And you, Quentin, knew all about it. I heard about it. Laser. Blodgett. Yes, and you needn't think you can put yourself in the clear by blaming everything on me. Come back here, Blodgett. Sheriff Billings. The whole thing was your idea, Quentin. Blodgett, don't you call me a liar. You took that bomb in the village and you know it. I'll fix you. Not so fast. I'll get back there and be quiet. That ought to hold him. This was all Quentin's idea. He was afraid of what would happen to Bates and Gormley got convicted. Well, what would happen? Blodgett, you keep still. Bates would produce evidence to show that Quentin had a hand in selling rifles to the Indians. No. And in stealing those rifles from the Army. Stop your fool. I didn't take the bomb. I took to the Indians and it was your idea. I'll kill you for that. Look out. I'll take that gun. So he goes as far as murder, eh, Quentin? Blodgett? If that masked man hadn't knocked Quentin's gunhand up, you'd have been a dead pigeon. Sheriff, I think it's time for handcuffs. A dog gone right it is. The jail will be downright crowded when I add these two to what's already in there. But it won't be for long. On the day of the trial, the lone ranger and Tonto with their horses packed for travel waited beside Joshua's big red wagon. We'll ride on, Tonto, as soon as Joshua and his daughter return and tell us the outcome of the trial. Ah. Oh, did you convince Whitefoot and his people that they needn't be afraid of cameras? Uh-huh. Me tell them about camera. Show them picture. Photography, Tonto, is one of the miracles of science. Men like Joshua Biddle will preserve records of this day and age. Priceless records for posterity. That's right. And when Joshua Biddle leaves here, he's going to the Pacific Coast to make pictures of the United States defenses. His pictures will make it possible for people all over the world to know and understand the activities of Uncle Sam's fighting men. Hey there! Look, Flo. Yes, our friend's waiting for us. Oh, here come Biddle and daughter. Yes. Hello, Joshua. I'm so glad you're still here. Oh, oh, oh, oh. We're, uh, ready to leave. And so are we. Soon as we hitch these horses to my wagon, I expect you'll waitin' to hear how the trial came out. You gave your testimony? Yes, sir. Then Bates did some talking and showed some documents, and let everyone know what a scheming Polkat banker Quentin is. Very nice of you. The banker and Mr. Blodgett were found guilty as well as Bates and Gormley. That's what I've been waiting to hear. We meet again, Joshua. Steady big fella. I wish I could be sure of that. But you know, we're starting out right now for California and that special assignment. Yes, I know it. Adios. Moncillo! Get a month's time! Dad, he said we'd meet again. I hope he's right. Honey, that masked man has seldom wronged. But now? Now for California. I never would have suspected that we got that special assignment with the government because of the Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created and produced by George W. Trendle and directed by Charles D. Livingston. Tonight's story was written by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beemer.