 horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hyo silver! The Lone Ranger! Before this exciting adventure, a word from our sponsor. General Mills, makers of Cheerios, the ready-to-eat oat cereal that gives you go power, and Wheaties, the breakfast of champions, present by special recording, The Lone Ranger! The country in every direction, how you do it is a question, and here's what the happy people have to say. It's all Wheaties, and do, do, do, and okay, okay. Take champions down south, they sure enough know about Wheaties. The Southland's favorite Wheaties fan is Museo, known as Stan the Man, because when he swings his mighty bat, he nearly knocks that baseball flat. Another Southland pride and joy is Bobby Lane, a Wheaties boy, because when he starts to turn on steam, he's sure a one-man football team. Just ask Stan Museo or Bobby Lane. They know the secret of Wheaties energy. There's a whole kernel of wheat in every Wheaties plate. Wheaties, breakfast of champions. People need to do your Wheaties, and do, do, do, and okay, okay. With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, 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 hoofbeats of the great horse, Silver. The lone ranger rides again. Come on, Silver! What's going on? Are you still there? Made that trip in a hurry. Ah, me come to tell you, fatal Smith is loose. Loose? He was to hang on Friday. When last night gang break into San Bernardo jail, killed sheriff gets Smith out. Stage driver bring news to town. We have work to do. Fatal Smith is a killer of the worst type. As long as he and his gang are at large, no one in the west is safe. It's a long way to San Bernardo. Crail cold when we get there. The outlaws may be headed this way. Well, why do you think that? By refuge you do. I try to reach hardscrabble here in the mountains. The most lawless mining camp in the west. Oh, that's right. We hear four marshals get killed there in last year. No one take job alone. So that's where we'll look for Smith and his gang. Here's a little bit. Is that a big fella? Several days later, Tom Rossford, a former New York policeman, sat at a table in the Gold Eagle Dance Hall, the biggest and toughest place of entertainment in hardscrabble. A bearded miner approached with a question. Want to buy him a gun pilgrim? I'll sell it for $30. I don't believe in private citizens carrying a gun. Maybe not, but I do. I wouldn't sell mine if I wasn't broke and ready to leave this internal camp. Didn't you strike Peter? Yes, but claim jumpers grabbed the place of stakeouts. What this camp needs is a good marshal. Tom's remark brought laughter from a party of camp talks at a nearby table. Yeah, that boys. Skinny green horn thinks we need another marshal. Not shooting our hands. Citizens have no right to take the law into their own hands. We've planted four marshals in this camp. They were all clicking the trigger. Maybe you'd like to try your luck as marshal number five. Maybe I would. I'll see you later, marshal. Well, you know, what do you think now? I'll buy that gun, mister. Here's your money. Well, here's a gun ain't much to look at, but it works. A short time later, as Tom examined the battered old cult, a girl entertainer slipped into a chair at his side. Lowing her casually, Tom forced a smile. Hello, Leo. Tom, I saw you buy that gun. Why did you do it? I'm tired of being at the mercy of bullies and outlaws. You're inviting trouble. It's better to stay out of a bad man's way than cross him, even though you have a gun. I know how to use one, Leo. When I was on the force in New York... Tom, you ought to quit thinking about the past. Your health has improved a lot since I first met you, but you'll always have to stay in the West. Why not make the best of it? Believe me, Leo, I'm grateful to this country of yours. It's done wonders for me physically. Sometime the right man will come along and tame hard scrabble and open the way for religion and education. You know, they say there isn't a single book in this camp. Well, I have one right here in my breast pocket. It's the manual of the New York police department. Tom, Tom, as you always think of it... Lil, police work was life to me. I must go now, Tom, but be around tonight. I'd like to talk to you some more. And I'd like to listen. I'll be right here, Lil. That night, the Golden Eagle Cafe was packed. A so-called professor hammered a battered piano. Several volunteer musicians, whose red shirts and ragged beards marked them as minors, saw it fiddles. Lil, the stranded actress, sang camp town girls, then joined Tom Rossford at a table while a square dancer called... Fill up the floor first, will you? Oh, thank you! Heavy boots thumped the floor with a violin that shook the walls of the dance hall. Lil, who had turned her attention to the long bar, was saying... Tom, I don't like the looks of a lot of men in this town, but the two standing over there look especially rough. Well, they certainly are heavily armed. They came in separately, but now another man has joined them. There's fatal Smith, the killer! I've seen him before! At the old man's words, the music died and the dancers froze. All right, I'm fatal Smith. But if you people don't want something fatal to happen to you, you won't try to be hero. Cover them, boys. They got their guns on them. All of you, all of you dancers, get back against the wall. Professor, you and the fiddlers stay where you are. As the dancers watched to obey his command, fatal Smith advanced on the stranded actress and tubercular Easterner. I am the dancer you miss. I'm not dancer. That's what you think. The law figure to make me dance on air today. But instead, I'm going to do a poker with you. Don't touch the lady, fellow. Look, it's sweet. You're an Easterner. So maybe you don't know who I am. I'd do as I please. You won't if I can help it. Well, a year or so near death, it wouldn't be any fun to kill you. How do you get yourself killed? Keep out of this. I'll dance with him. And let's do our step, then. Professor, strike up a tune and make it good or it'll be your last one. So great was the outlaw's contempt for the Easterner, that he discounted the possibility of his being armed and in a mood to welcome death. He reached out to seize the girl, but before he could reach her, Tom was in front of him, loosening the newly acquired gun which he had thrust into a pocket. The former New Yorker called... Oh, you killer. Where do you want it, Greenhorne? Come sit down. Here it comes through the heart. The impact of the outlaw's bullet hurled Tom against the table, but even as he collapsed against it, his own revolver blazed. Little Smith dropped his guns and clutched an arm with a groan. For some wings. Tom, oh, Tom. Daddy, folks? Dad, here you'll get what the Easterner got. This time we've ambushed them. Yeah, we'd like to pick up my gun. Only nicked. But now I'm gonna plug that skinny garment again. No! I'll see your gun, fatal. No one lives that beautiful trigger on them. Now let's get out the back door to our horses. All right, but I'm taking the girl along for a shield. Get away from that tent of what's carcass, and come on. Get off me, you murderous beast! Drag her along, fatal. Again, open that back door. See? There I have opened it. Green, Jiren, and Tom who had arrived at the edge of the mining camp in time to hear the shots and place their origin to the dance hall. Turning their horses into an alley, they reached the rear of the place just as the outlaws backed out with a struggling girl. In the light which poured through the open door, they recognized Fatal Smith and brought their guns to the mayor as they called. Let go of that girl, Smith. You can't get away. Drop the guns. Let me shoot. The tail end is the alley's full of them. By this time, the ovaries inside have thrown their guns. No, we can't go back. We can't go on. I'm dropping my guns. They're thrown away. There goes mine. I'll take the girl. Turn around and go back into the hall with your hands up. My friend and I will be right behind you. Please stand aside, Miss. It stands away. At that moment it dawned on the miners in the hall that the flight of the outlaws had been halted in some manner. Through the door poured a hail of bullets. Captures and captives alike were driven to take refuge along a dark wall. The masked man was calling... This way, Miss. You men inside, hold your fire. The gang has been captured. In the war of gunfire, his words went unheeded. Quick to take advantage of the darkness of the wall and confusion created by the unexpected shooting from inside the hall. The outlaw, known as Miguel, slipped out a hidden knife and lunged at Toto. This for you, easy-o. Of the Indian world, you meet Miguel's attack. The outlaw called Bill, grabbed his gunhand and tried to rest the six-shooter from it. Twisting and bending, Toto evaded Miguel's knife but could not shake off the other outlaw. You're gonna get him, Miguel. Keep hold of him. Seeing his friends' danger but unable to shoot into the tangle of writhing bodies without further endangering him, the Lone Ranger holstered his guns and sprang into the fight just as Miguel aimed another knife thrust at Toto. The masked man caught the descending arm. No, you don't. With the Lone Ranger and Toto locked in mortal combat with two of the gang, Fatal Smith again seized the girl, who had stood by dazed. He was yelling... I got to come on, Louis. What about Miguel and Bill? They won't need our help. Give me a hand with this girl and we'll run for our horses. Help! Help! Although he realized Fatal Smith and Louis were about to escape with the girl, the Lone Ranger was unable to break away from the knife wielding Miguel. Toto's adversary was screaming... Wait for us, Fatal! We'll continue our Lone Ranger adventure in just a moment. Diving Doris is 13 and she is a diving queen. She can do a flip because she knows she's got go-power from Cheerios. Yes, she's got go-power. There she goes! She's feeling her Cheerios. Cheerios. Cheerios. That's a mighty good idea for you. Just make sure you eat a big bowl of Cheerios and milk every breakfast and you'll get go-power too. Because a Cheerios breakfast is loaded with proteins, vitamins and minerals. The very things that help build healthy bodies, strong bones, good red blood and muscles. Why they'd be the sort of breakfast you'd go for even if they didn't taste so good. And they do taste delicious. Cheerios are a real oat cereal already cooked with that delicious toasted oat flavor. So that's for you. Swell-tasting Cheerios and milk for go-power. Eat them every morning and you'll hear... She's feeling her Cheerios. Now to continue. As Fatal Smith and Louis rode off with their captive, the savage hand-to-hand battle in which the Lone Ranger and Toto had engaged two other outlaws continued in the alley. The wiry McGill had his keen-edged knife at the Lone Ranger's throat several times before the superior strength of a masked man told. Drop that knife. For you'll never take that. The knife, she's gone for my hand. I'm finished. Don't stand there against the wall and don't move. Turning to see how Toto had fared, the Lone Ranger found that the Indian had concluded his own silent battle by stretching the other off-law unconscious. At the same time, the miners in the hall began to appear cautiously from the doorway. Here are two members of the gang. Fatal Smith and another outlaw escaped, holding a girl's hostage. That's Lil, Lily Bell, our singer. Hey, you're wearing a mask. What does that mean? Maybe he's another aloof. My mask doesn't mean I'm an outlaw. If I were, my Indian friend and I wouldn't have captured these prisoners. I reckon that's old. Hey, thunder he and the Indian have got to a Fatal Smith gang. What did the gang do here besides capture the girl? Smith killed a skinny little leesoner who stood up for Lil. The other alhoots kept us from interfering. Let's round up all the miners and camp and go after Smith, the other fellow who got away. There's nothing you can do tonight except trample out trail signs that may be visible in the morning. It's too dark now to follow a trail. The outlaws already have a big lead. Now, hold on, fellas. Masked man's right. Better wait. Where can these prisoners be held? Well, there's no jail here and we have no mask. Bring those two garments into the dance hall. Maybe we can arrange to hold them there. Get up, fella. Get up. I'll bring the other one. Thunder Ray should look there. The Easterners come to life. He's sitting up on the table. It can't be. I saw Fatal Smith aim for his heart when he shot. And Fatal Smith don't miss. Just what his name says. Look, fellas, this isn't Resurrection Day. Just lie down again and be dead like you ought to be. Dead. I'm not dead. I just fainted. Be a little bit reasonable. Isn't that we don't want you coming back to life? I'll guard the prisoners while I examine them. There. I have your vest open. Look at what fell out of his vest. It's the 45-Bullet Fatal Smith shot him with. I'd rather you just call me Tom. Very well, Tom. All you suffered from that bullet was a bruise over your heart. The way Smith's gun sounded, there was plenty of good powder behind that bullet. Tom, you must be bulletproof. Then let's make him Marshal of the Hodgecraft. And I'd like to be Marshal of this mining camp. But I don't want the job because you think I have a charmed life. I haven't. The only reason I'm alive is that I once belonged to the police force. What? How's that, Tom? The thing that stopped Fatal Smith's bullet was a manual of the New York Police Department, which I had in my breast pocket. Here it is. What? A narration, a bullet. The bullet went completely through it, but its force was spent. I reckon you were lucky, but lucky or not, we still want you to be our lawman. It'll take a little time to get you pointed, but you can start being Marshal right now and we'll back you. How about it, fellas? It was late the next day when the lone ranger, Toto and Tom Rossford, struck the trail of the outlaws and their captive. A posse of miners had long since deserted them to return to their diggings. As they rolled slowly into the ever-hytening altitudes, following the tracks of three horses, Toto held up a hand. You must have a better wish, Tom. Can you hear someone come? Oh, oh, oh, oh. I hear the hoof beat small. That's a woman right there. Are you still? Oh, there's more. Tom, Tom, it's really you. Yes, Lill, I'm still kicking. Oh, thank heaven you're alive. Tom quickly explained what had happened and asked. Did the outlaws release you? How quick called, Louis, let me go. With the understanding that I'd deliver a message to the masked man, he said such a man would be tracking them and that I'd meet him on the trail. He must have met my friend here. He probably did. Though I can't understand why I was so sure I'd follow the trail. What was the message, Miss? Louis wants to betray fatal Smith to you. He said he was afraid of being lynched and believed you'd save him if he turned on Smith. When did he tell you that? Less than an hour ago, when Smith went away for a few minutes. Then he set me free and gave me a horse. Where the crook's staying? In a deserted prospector shack, two or three miles from here. The last mile of the trail to the cabin is overgrown by tall brush and it's lined with saplings. Lodge poles, I think they're called. Only one horse can pass through at a time. Well, that sound like crap. I thought of that, but the crooks have no weapons. Let's ride in on them. Well, Tom, we've had as far as the beginning of the brush trail. I want you to wait there while Todd and I scout the place on foot. Now, let's go. All right, come on. The swift twilight of the Sierras had begun to fall when the lone ranger and tattle left Tom and the girl with the horses and began to work their way toward the shack, keeping to scant growths of stuttered trees which grew on high ground several hundred yards from the brush trail. Midway to the shack, the masked man pointed. Look at the top of that safting along the trail. The outlaw's wanted us to follow. Ah, it bent west. Miss country trees often go into bent shapes because of the wind, but the prevailing winds is from the west. They always bent eastward. Now, Miss Savvy, what kind of trap crooks have for you? A snare, of course. They pull down the top and held it in that position with a pole which serves as a trigger. Later, they'll luckily find a wire and news attached to the top of the sapling. Ah, Missy, animals caught like that. When animal run into news, trigger fall. Tree flies up and get hung. Yes, an old method of trapping deer. Find us, move on. Wait, Kim Savvy. Yes. Two men riding down trail, claddy fast. Fatal Smith and Louie, they've seen us. Now, then, dodge snare. Maybe we'd better shoot. Shots fired from this distance, wouldn't stop them. Let's get back to the horses. Ah. At that moment, Fatal Smith was telling Louie, We saw the masked man and eaten just in time. You might have known that the masked man wouldn't fall for a trick like a snare. We still hold the high car. Well, I don't know how. They must have left their horses near the end of the brush trail. Hey, that's so. It'll soon be dark. If we can rush them, we'll get a big start. We're coming to the end of the brush trail. Well, here's the clearing. And there are the horses. Hey, someone's with them. Eh, likely it's only the girl. Hold up, you fools. You're coming. Don't shoot. Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Look, Fatal, it's the Eastern. Quiet. It can't be. You saw me plug him. He has to be dead. All right, get off your horses. This is the end of the trail for you, Fatal Smith. As Tom, who had been standing beside the horses with Lil, approached the killer like a vengeful apparition, Smith whirled his mount for the howl of terror. No! Get up there! Now, for I'll shoot! You'll never get away! Tom, I missed him. He's getting away. There he goes into the brush trail. I'll follow him. No, no, Tom. Guard this other crook. The masked man in Indian can take care of Fatal Smith. Can you come have a cup of coffee? Wait a minute. One of their noses is riding back up the brush trail. I just caught a glimpse of him. It's pretty dark. All me see is treetops. We must be near the snare now. At that moment, the evening stillness was broken by the sound like the twang of a mighty bull. Stringing their eyes into the gloom, the masked man in Indian saw the bent tree straighten suddenly and shake its budding branches against the sky. Then all was silent and motionless. The lone ranger and tato dashed toward the snare, well-knowing what they would find. Late that evening, a strange procession halted at the edge of hard straddle. One rider was a masked man, another an Indian. With them were a former New York policeman and a former actress who had found their destiny in the West. Two other horses bore a sardonic prisoner and a dead man. The lone ranger was saying, Tom, how did I miss leave you here? But you haven't explained how Fatal Smith happened to ride into his own snare. It seems the fates were in an ironical mood. Perhaps the killer was overcome by superstitious tear after seeing Tom. Perhaps it was so dark he failed to see the trap and time to dodge the noose. Well, it was poetic justice. Yes, he received the punishment he deserved. Now the West will be a safer place in which to live. Lil, that's the end of Fatal Smith. But for you and me, this is just the beginning. Yes, Tom. I'll have to begin. Perhaps we'll meet again. Adios. Oh! You have little to laugh about, Louis. I have plenty. I'm wondering what Fatal Smith thinks now about setting a snare for the lone ranger. The feature of the lone ranger incorporated is produced by Kendall Campbell Muir Incorporated. The part of the lone ranger is played by Brace Beamer. Your announcer, Fred Foy. Listen to the lone ranger brought to you by Special Recording Mondays through Fridays at this same time.