 The horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hyo silver. The lone ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Toto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains 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. It was nearing train time when Dan Reed, the 14-year-old nephew of the lone ranger, called at the depot in Skyline to send a telegram for the masked man. He found the dingy building deserted except for Huey, the agent operator, and two roughly clad men who appeared to be asleep on the waiting room bench. Their heads pillowed on bedrolls, their faces hidden by their arms. As Dan passed the message through the ticket window, a telegraph instrument began to click. Huey cocked an ear. Number two is on time for once. No wonder. He's pulling T.C. Tyler's private car. Do you mean Mr. Tyler, the railroad builder? I sure do, lad. This is one of the lines he owns. What's bringing him here? Listen, the river junction operator says that T.C. has heard about the world's biggest grizzly being seen in the mountains hereabouts. He aims to get it. He's coming all this way to get a grizzly? Right. Anything that nobody's got or is hard to get, T.C. hankers to have. Animals, pictures, things like that. He collects them. I see. Yeah. I guess it never rains, but it pours. Look coming across the street. Oh, I see, he's an old prospector. Sam? That's Hamlet Jones with his burrow and his box. They're right famous in these parts. Oh. For 20 years he's been tracing around the mountains, looking for gold and quoting Shakespeare to his burrow. He must be quite a character. What's in the box? It's one of the teakwood boxes all studded and bound with brass. He's always got it handy and nobody's ever seen inside. What do you think he carries in it? Money, of course. He's likely found a lot of gold sometime and turned it into greenbacks. He's coming here with his burrow. He's packing the box. And the critter follows him everywhere. That message of yours costs two bits. Here it is. All good Horatio. Horatio? Is that your burrow's name, mister? Here it is, lad. Horatio is Hamlet's friend. More antique Roman than a Dane. That critter's antique, all right. What are you doing in town, Ham? I heard there was a letter for me at the post office. Now I want to know how much the fare will be for a youngster between Philadelphia and Skyline. Around $60. Why are you asking? I got a granddaughter in Philadelphia and I want to send for her. A granddaughter? I never figured you had any relatives. I lost track of my family years ago. You know how it is when you're warned around by yourself, sort of living in a world of your own? I reckon so. How'd you find out about the child? Her father and mother died and she was sent to the Quaker orphanage. Quakers finally located me. Well, you sure ought to be able to provide for her. She won't want. I'm going to quit prospecting. Now you're showing sense. I am only mad north-northwest. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw. Mr. I heard Edwin Booth speak that line when he played Hamlet in San Francisco a few months ago. Led I saw his father, Junius Brutus Booth, play the same role once. That makes us kin, don't it? In a way it does. Where are you staying? I'm camping with friends in the mountains. Well, my own camp is on the mountain trail, but close to town. I'll go a piece with you and we'll talk. All right. Come again, Ham. I will never fear. Come, Horatio, to be or not to be. That is the question. As the operator resumed his seat at the telegraph instrument and Dan followed the old prospector out of the depot, the two men on the bench got to their feet and slipped out a side door. From the cover of a tie pile, they watched the pair cross the street. One was asking... Frisco, did you hear that talk in there? Every word of it, Shag. That crazy old coot's packing plenty of cash. Yeah. And it'll be ours tonight. Now wait. This country's strange. We're not fixed for a fast getaway. But it won't need to run. That depot fella and kid didn't see our faces and don't know we overheard him. A couple of 45 slugs will keep the old buzzard from talking. Right. Let's follow along and locate his camp. Come on. It was dark when Dan rejoined the Lone Ranger and Toto at their camp. He told of the coming of T.C. Tyler and his own meeting with Hamlet Jones. Then continued... The old man became very friendly. When we reached his camp, he opened the mysterious box for me. Oh, what was in it? The works of Shakespeare, all wrapped up in batting and oiled silk. They're an old English print. Dan, did you notice the date of publication? A copy of the play Hamlet was dated 162. An Othello print was in 167. Those books are a real treasure. What do you mean? They're first editions. A big library or a rich collector would pay many thousands of dollars for them. Golly, old Hamlet doesn't know that. Are you sure? He seems to have taken good care of them. That's only because he values what's in them. But he doesn't read them anymore. He knows every line by heart. Yes, he's been hunting gold for years. Never knowing that he had a gold mine with him. He never found more than enough gold to pay for his grub steaks. What's he going to do about his granddaughter? Well, he plans to sell poor old Horatio and take a job as a swamper in a cafe in order to pay for her fare and take care of her. Dan, you and Tunnel's out of your horses. Where we go? We'll call on Hamlet Jones. Old Hamlet was hunkered down beside his fire. As he fried flapjacks, he quoted to his burrow, There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than I dreamt of in your philosophy. Well, spoken good Horatio. Freeze your buzzard. You're covered from both sides. What do you want? That box there beside you. There's nothing in it to do you any good. I'll show you. Is that to some trick? Plug it. You'll hang if you do. Murder, though it has no tongue, will speak. You've said enough. Horatio. Box, Frisco. What are you after? Pick. We need something to open it with. There's a pick. Now let's get going. It was a few minutes later when the lone ranger, Tuttle and Dan trotted their horses down the slope on which the old prospector had made camp. His fire had died down, but a rising moon made his prostrate body visible. Dan exclaimed, There he is. He's sleeping. Without blankets? Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Mr. Jones. Hamlet. There's something wrong. Said he's a big... Shut up. Shut up. Is he? Yes, Dan. Hamlet has quoted his last line. The rest is silence. We'll cover him with his blanket for the time being, and then we'll give him a proper burial. The box. It's gone. Must have been murdered and robbed by someone who thought there was money in it. Everyone knew and talked about the box. Me find tracks of two men. I'm heading for Railroad. Dan, go back to camp and wait for us. I'd better look after old Horatio. He's hobbled. All right. Take him along. Tuttle and I will follow these tracks. He's sleeping. In the meantime, the killers had reached a railroad side track where a string of empty box cars stood. Hoisting themselves inside one of the cars, they closed the sliding door. This makes a good place to crack that box. Yeah, mighty dark in here, Frisco. Where's that candle stub you carry? I'm lighting it. There. Now we can see. Let me swing on the box with this pick. It locks given. There. There, she's open. Wow. Is that all money in that package? It isn't. We've been fleeced. What is that stuff? Books. Just books. Why was he toting them around? It was plumb loco, that's why. Now, wait a minute. Maybe there's money between the pages. There's not a single shin plaster there. It says here that this book was written by a fellow named Shakespeare way back around 1600. So all the net worth of match would take to burn him. Let's leave the junk here and go back to the old man's camp. What for? Must have had some gold or cash around. We didn't search his carcass for a poke. We're too near broke to pass up anything. Come on. Oh, listen. I hear horses. It's not that candlelight. It's out. There's two of them. I can see them through this craic. Who are they? A masked man and an engine. Hey, listen. They've been following us. It'll be next to impossible to find them there. Look. Car by depot. Got plenty bright lights. Must be Tyler's private car standing on another switch track. Come on. They went on toward the depot. Now's our chance to get out. Where'll we go? Like the old man's camp, like we figured to do. That's taken a big chance. Not if we're careful. Nobody's got anything on us. Right. Come on. Meanwhile, the borough had escaped from Dan when he took off the hobble. Frightened by the slaying of its master, it dodged and doubled around the camp. Unable to catch it on horseback, the boy tried to approach it on foot. Here, Horatio. Come on, boy. I won't hurt you. All right for you, fella. I'm giving up. Satisfied that the aged animal was still active enough to care for itself until later, Dan turned back toward the camp and his horse Victor. A moment later, the killers who had been watching from the shadows closed in on him. Keep walking, kid. I've got a gun on you. What do you want? We figure you belong in that masked man's outfit. We aim to find out who he is. You won't find out from me. We'll see about that. Now, stop. I'll hold him, Frisco. You go through the old fella's pockets and gear. Yeah, I'm looking. Here. Here's something. Hey, what's that you found? His poke. What's in it? Just a few greenbacks. Maybe $30, $40. Even that'll help. See anything else worth taking? Oh, not a thing. Now, what are we going to do with that kid? Well, he's seen our faces. That doesn't answer my question. The answer is this gun. Now, now, don't shoot him, Shag. Why not? I still think we'd better find out about that mask, fellas. Those kids are stubborn as that burrow. Don't worry. He'll soften up. It's not safe to question him here. We don't have to. We just take him down to that empty boxcar where we dump the books. We tie and gag and leave him there for a while. Hey, yeah. That might loosen his tongue. Sure it will. He'll be ready to talk after he goes a day or so without eating or drinking. You... You can't get away with it. That's what the old prospect has said. Look at him now. Get going. 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. The killers took Dan to the freight car some distance away from the Lone Ranger and Toto, who had halted their horses in the shadow of the depot. As they looked at Tyler's private car, the mask man said, Toto, there's only one way in which we can identify the killers and make a case that will stand up in court. And how that? They've got to catch them with the books. Well, maybe them killers tear up or burn books. It's more likely that they simply threw them aside as being worthless. Tyler's car has given me an idea of how to capture them. And where we go? You notify the sheriff of Hamlet's death to say nothing about the books, then return to camp. He's happy. I'll see you there later. T.C. Tyler and his secretary were alone in the office end of his car. Leaning back in a guilt and plush chair, the railroad builder fired orders at his prim bespectacled assistant. People, I want my office to unload 20,000 shares of consolidated stock. 20,000? Mercy goodness. Mercy, man. All I want is a talk with you, Mr. Tyler. You're not a old man? By no means. Mr. Tyler, I want you to cooperate with me in catching two murderers and recovering a first edition set of Shakespeare's works. People, make a note of this from my memoirs. This is anything but a joke, sir. The murdered man was an old prospector. He didn't know the value of his books as collector's items. He was poor and left a young granddaughter who was in an orphanage. I believe you were serious. Those books should be worth a great deal to a man like you. He's right, Mr. Tyler. There aren't more than a half dozen sets in existence. One set recently sold for $50,000. Well, let's get them. I'll pay all their worth. People, why the best detective agency in the country to get busy on the case? We can handle it ourselves, Mr. Tyler. Oh. This is what I want you to do. It was late that night when the great horse Silver bore the masked man back to camp. Tunnel ran to meet him as he came to a halt. Oh, Silver, oh, easy, steady. You're sorry. Dan gone. What happened? Only three fellas who kill old men capture him. Where? At old fellas' camp. On way back, me passed there in fine burrow. Trail sign showed Dan go away with two men. Didn't you follow the trail? Ah, me follow. But me lose it at railroad, same as before. Into the saddle, Tunnel, we're going to find them. Be ready. One, two, three. Get them off the couch. The following morning, the Skyline Journal issued an extra. In addition to news of Hamlet Jones' murder and the arrival of T.C. Tyler, it carried a feature story about T.C.'s art and animal collections, stressing the fabulous sums he had paid or was willing to pay for things he wanted. Frisco read the paper as he and Shag had breakfast at a secluded table in the Red Front Cafe. He commented on the news. It says here the sheriff figures local crooks pulled the job. Got a scat of money. Any mention of that mass, fella? Let's say, um... What's the name of that fella who wrote them books? Shake something right there. Shake? Spear, yeah, that said. Jumping jee-hospatter. What's the matter? Well, there's a piece here that says O.T.C.'s willing to pay $50,000 for Shakespeare books printed around 1600. Must be as local as old Hamlet was. Well, that may be, but I'm going to see him right now. Take a look at that kid in the books. Frisco was soon back in the cafe in a jubilant mood. He had talked to the millionaire promising to deliver the books within a couple of hours and receiving assurance that he would be paid in cash. As he treated the house, Shag lurched through the back-wing doors and almost collapsed in a chair at the corner table. Frisco hurriedly joined him. What are you doing, Shag? Plenty. The books are gone, so's the kid. Well, but confounded luck. The empty boxcars are all gone, too. A train pulled him away while you were in Tyler's car on the side. Then we're safe at least. Yeah, yeah, the kid will die. But we'll never get the books back. A switchman told me the train was going straight through to St. Louis. No T.C.'s in his car just waiting to shell out the money. Must have a mint on board. Then let's hold him up. Yeah, he's got two armed guards. And even if we could plug him, the shooting that'd be heard in townspeople would come to investigate before we could get the money. Yeah, I reckon that's so. But there's another way. Huh? All we need is a couple of horses and some railroad tools. It'll be easy, God, but I don't see how you... Listen to me. The main track runs downgrade in the depot for about four miles. We pull a rail at the foot of it. Yeah, but how... Then we'll start old T.C.'s car road. It'll smash the flinders. We can use guns if we have to, there. No one at here. Yeah, but how are we gonna start it? It's on flat side track with a handbrake set. Tonight, when everyone's asleep, we loosen the brakes, tie the doors closed, and open the switch. Then we roll the car to the grade with crowbars. Yeah. They are savvy now. We'll ride down after it and clean the cage from the rake. As the crooks laid their plot, the lone ranger interrupted the futile search for Dan and sent Tuttle to see Tyler. When the Indian returned, he brought news that the millionaire expected one of the killers to appear with a book shortly. The masked man's response was grim. Dan's life may depend on capturing that man. He mustn't fail this time. And what's your plan to do? All we can do now is watch the car. Meanwhile, the train to which the empty boxcars were coupled had rattled down the long grade. Unaware of where he was being carried, but glad to escape the killers, Dan lay among the priceless books chewing his gag. At last, he was able to spit out the pieces, but the leather thongs which bound his arms and legs resisted all his efforts to free himself. As he struggled with his bonds, the train began to slow down. Then it came to a jolting stop. Bringing up his knees, Dan kicked the closed door and shot it. Help! Hey! You're just a kid and all tied up. Cut these ropes, please. Since I get inside, son. Are you loose? Thanks, mister. Are you the breakman? Right. It's a mighty lucky thing we stopped here for a hotbox. Who put you in such a fit? Two crooks in skyline. How far are we from there? Ten miles of rough walking. We'll take you where you can get a train back tomorrow. I can make better time than that on foot by following the track. My legs are all right. Well, you come back to Caboose first. You can do with some food and water. I'll be with you as soon as I pick up these books. It was late that night when the lone ranger and Toto abandoned their futile watch outside T.C. Tyler's car and headed their horses back to camp. As they neared it, Toto asked, Why you think that crook not show up? Either he became suspicious or that... Look, coming. Ah, that Dan's horse, Victor. Dan's riding him. Hold on, Victor. Dan, what happened? Oh, golly, it's a long story. I was captured by the men who killed old Hamlet. They locked me in a box car with the books. An engine pulled the cars away, and then the breakman found me and let me out. But your horse, how did you... I was walking along when I met Victor. I guess he must have been trying to follow the train because he knew I was on it. Dan, you must be tired. Wait, wait, there's something you should know. While I was walking along the tracks, I found a place where a rail had been pulled. The train will be wrecked when it gets there. Where is this place, Dan? Come on, I'll show you. Come on, Victor. Come on, Silver. Come on, Silver. If you wrestle up ahead, it goes over tracks. It's another mile to the place where the rails are. Look back to our town. Lights come this way and track. I don't see any engine sparks. A single car. A piler's car. If it's running away, it'll be wrecked. You two go on ahead and pile sand on the rails. Where you going? I'm heading for that trestle. Come on, Silver. Come on, Silver. As the lone ranger reached the mine, he dropped from his saddle without halting Silver. He landed running and dashed to a point directly above the railroad track. There, he swung himself over the edge and hung, hands gripping a wooden stringer. Up the grade, the free-wheeling car gathered speed each second. The yells of the occupants who had broken out the windows but fear to jump mingled with a clatter of the wheels. Looking over his shoulder, the masked man measured the distance between the trestle and the fast approaching car, well knowing that the lives of the passengers as well as his own depended on exact timing. On came the car, the bright paint on its flat top glimmering in the moonlight. The lone ranger swung himself outward and let loose. No! Twisting as he fell, he landed on old fours near the front end of the car. It rocked, rolling him side-wise, but he managed to grasp a ventilator. Then he pivoted on his stomach and slid down to the front platform. He clutched the brake wheel, twisting it savagely. Brake blocks cuckold, smoking and screeching, but the wheels skidded, letting the car continue with mad rush toward destruction. One more turn, one more! A head he could see Dan Reed and Toto. Then the car hit a stretch of sanded rails. Sparks flew from the wheels as it lost speed. Inches from disaster, it came to a grinding stop. Whirling, the masked man slashed the fastenings on the door. Tyler and his aides tumbled out. The millionaire was shouting. Someone tried to wreck it! Put out those lights, get your guns. Dan, stay back! Toto, you and I will go back up the track away. Hey, what's the idea, mister? The outlaw's will be here soon. All right, must I be? Wait till they pass. Then fire some warning shots. Stop you two! You're surrounded! As the masked man's voice rang out, Tyler and his party advanced from the car with guns blazing. Caught between two fires, the killers wheeled their horses. Chag was yelling. Their desperate attempt to retreat, the outlaws bent low in their saddles and fired in both directions. Then they were almost upon the masked man and the Indian. Chag and the lead hurled his empty gun at Toto. It struck Scouts' nose. The paint horse reared, throwing the Indian off his aim and making him a target for Frisco's bullets. At the same instant, the lone ranger triggered his right-hand gun. Frisco rolled from his saddle croning. Stop! Help me, Sang! I can't! Stop or you'll get the same! The masked man! Stop, I said! Hold! Hold that! Hold! Hold! Don't shoot, mister, I give up! Look after them, Toto. Oh, I mean, you know what? Oh, it's the Indian! You got to hold it! Oh, my shoulder! Hey, that's the fella who said he had the books. He and his partner killed Hamlet Jones and captured me. There's been the books. Where are the books? I've got them here. People have lied. Yes, sir, yes. Let me see now. If I may say so, sir, these are authentic first editions. Fine, fine. Then why am I always to set aside the $50,000 trust fund for the old prospector's granddaughter? That should satisfy the masked man. How about it, sir? It does. Now we'll leave the prisoners to you. Come on, Toto. Let's wait. Hold on. I want to know more about you. That someday we'll meet again. Easy, sir. Let me go. Easy. Come on, Toto. Come on, Victor. There he goes, sir. And we know absolutely nothing about him. Well, we know one thing, people. The Indian told me he's the Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created and produced by George W. Trendle, directed by Charles D. Livingston and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer.