 A fiery horse with a 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 writer 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. Two men faced each other across a paper littered desk in the executive office at the state capitol. One was Governor Hill, the other the lone ranger, who wore the clothing of a businessman and a disguise in place of his familiar mask and riding outfit. It was a disguise with which the governor and old friend had become familiar. Clasping his caller's hand, he exclaimed, the lone ranger. This is indeed an honor. And the honor is mine, Governor Hill. How can I help you? I called you here because I want to find a fugitive. That's a job for your state rangers. Not in this case. Sit down, sit down. Thanks. The law enables me to send officers anywhere to track down an outlaw, but it makes no provision for remding its mistakes. The man I want is a fugitive from Justice. Please explain, Governor. Several years ago, a young fellow named Tom Wade was convicted of killing a rancher during a feud in the Pipe River Valley. Yes. Just before he was to be executed, he broke jail. He never was recaptured. I see. Recently, the chief witness against Wade made a deathbed confession, admitting that he himself committed the crime. I immediately signed a pardon for Wade, but I liked means of locating him and delivering it. I take it that Wade has nothing to fear from the law now. Well, that's true, but it must be assumed that he doesn't know it. It is still living the tortured life of an escaped convict for whom the executioner waged. Do you have his description? Here's an old wanted notice, but it's too vague to be of any help in finding a man who's probably changed his name and appearance. Well, what about his relatives? I was coming to that. He has a mother who was indecemious as soon as she heard about the pardon. She couldn't tell me much. Even a little will help in a case like this. Well, she said she had heard from her son but once and then indirectly. Several months ago, a strange young woman whom she describes as having red hair called on him. This girl gave her a sack of gold dust and a message from Wade, but didn't disclose his whereabouts. Gold dust suggests a mining camp. Yes, but there are mines from Montana to the Bordam. A redheaded girl traveling alone in this country would be noticed. Give me the pardon, Governor. Thunderstone was a community where food and entertainment were in demand both day and night. The restaurant known as Slim and Red's Place had been locked up just long enough to allow the proprietors to clean the floor, reset the tables, and chalk a new bill of fare on the blackboard. The girl was known as Red because of her flaming red hair. Her partner Slim wore a full beard, which contrasted with the youthfulness of his eyes. Red, this place is better than a gold mine. I struck it rich when I found you. I'm the lucky one, darling. I'd still be working in the Lady Fair Dance Hall if you hadn't come along. We could be riding double on top of the world. Only I'm Tom Wade. Yeah, Tom Wade. Sometimes I wish you'd never told me that. I had to, honey. Feeling the way I do about you. Tom, I know you never dry-gulched anyone. The law says I did, and that's what counts. I never can go home, never see my mother. I wish you'd brought her here when you went to see her. Your ma wouldn't come. She was afraid of being followed. Why, it was dangerous enough for me to come back. Ah, so? I got too much attention, Tom. After all, I could be trailed. Or maybe the law is tracing you right now. I'll never be any safer than I am in Thunderstone. With gunfights and robberies going on every day, Sheriff Madden isn't checking up on fellas who keep out of trouble. Anyhow, he's my friend. Friend or not, he'd arrest you, Tom, if somebody told him your real name. Look, Red, here he is now. He's coming here. Before he knows we're locked up. Quit shaking so. Let him in. Yeah. Just a second, Sheriff. Howdy, Red. Howdy, Slim. Hello, Sheriff. Say, what's been going on here? You two look guilty or something. We've been fixing to jack up our prices. Well, that's robbery, all right. But what I come to say is that from now on, I can't send anybody after that chuck you've been cooking from our prisoners. You mean we'll have to deliver it? I reckon so. That trust he was getting at finished his stretch today. We're mighty busy at mealtime, Sheriff. Well, fetch it over when you can. Figure on bread, beans, and coffee for 20 tonight. All right, Sheriff. You leaving now? Yep. I'm keeping an eye on the Lady Fair Dance Hall. That place is always getting shot up. From now on, everyone who has a hand in the ruckus there goes to jail. Well, so long. So long, Sheriff. Red, I don't like the idea of taking Chuck to those prisoners. I've seen enough jailhounds. I know, Tom, I know. But we have to keep the Sheriff from getting suspicious. He had me scared for a minute. Yeah. He'll always be like that if you stick with me. Just the same. I'm sticking. Some weeks later, the Lone Ranger, accompanied by Toto, but still disguised, rode into Thunderstone. They had painstakingly traced the red-headed girl by following stage routes and making inquiries among the drivers and agents. But one glance at the crowded streets of the gold mad town told them their search might yet be futile. As they headed their horses toward a corral, the Lone Ranger said, I know, there's only one thing to do. Let's visit every place you come. Ah, me savvy. Well, I have to be careful about asking questions. The girl and Wade are here together and learn we're looking for them. Before we can make our purpose known, they'll dodge us. Me go with you? No. Well, we'll work separately. Then meet at this corral. Come, Silver. Come, Silver. Come, Silver. A lady fair dance hall was packed to the doors. Mingling with the crowd, the Lone Ranger watched and listened as he had done in other places of entertainment along the street. He saw several professional gamblers and gunmen whose names he knew. But nothing that he could connect with his search came to his attention. Then an aged swamper with a scrawny body and watery eyes sidled up to him and tugged his sleeve. Mister, let me get behind you. What's the trouble, old timer? See that fellow holding an empty glass? Yeah, she's headed this way. He's been riding me ever since he hit town. Now he's after me again. Oh, I know him. He stands still. That moves, stranger. I want that old swamper. What for? I'm gonna shoot this glass off the top of your head. Stand over against the wall. Don't make me do that. Head over there, I said. Put that gun back. Oh, you cheap father. This is our drill. No, you won't. Let go, man. You're twisting it off. You're as loose as a gun. No, I'm shot. Let me through. Hey, it comes to shame. Burn him. What's going on here? That fellow shot me. Grab a gun and shot me. No, my leg. Sheriff, he only has a scratch. He got it by triggering his gun while I was disarming him. Here's the gun. Yeah. What was the idea of jumping him? He's a Texas bad man, known as Dutch landers. He was abusing an old swamper. That's a lie. We'll see about that. Where's the swamper? He laid out. Did any of you gents see how this ruckus started? We didn't see nothing. I was waiting. All right. Come on, you two. You're going to jail. Wait a minute. You're making a mistake by arresting me. I can find that swamper. I'll do the finding, mister. Till then, I'm holding you for disturbing the peace. Sheriff, I came here on business for Governor Hill. Business in a dance hall. You're just getting yourself in worse with that kind of malarkey. What about me? I didn't do nothing. If you're Dutch landers, like he says, you've done plenty. The Federal Marshal wants you for shooting a soldier. That means the rope. Now let me get out there, Ambrie. I'll break his neck right now. No, you don't. I'll get going, both of you. Clear the way, gents. Open the door. With the sheriff stubbornly refusing to listen further, the lone ranger chose to go to jail rather than make a break, which would endanger the success of his mission. Shortly after he and landers had been locked inside the cell block, Tom Wade entered the sheriff's office burdened with pales of food. The sheriff greeted the restaurant man with a broad grin. Well, Slim, I haven't found a trustee yet, but I got two more customers for you. I've got Chuck enough for all. Till the turn sheet unlocks. Slim's coming through. Don't keep me waiting. His coffee's plenty hot. Yeah, I'm opening the door. Anybody shut up in the cells? No. They make them stand inside and wait their turns. Fine. They won't stop. Get back where you bunk, boys. I'm starting at the first cell. Howdy, fella. You're new here. That's right. Somehow you don't look like a jailbird. Perhaps I'm not. Innocent men have been jailed before. Ombré, you said something. Henry of Pan & Cook. For a moment, the lone ranger and the man he had set out to find faced each other, wholly unaware of the ironic drama of their meeting. Then Wade passed on. Very slim. I'm hungry enough to eat a hard-boiled bull. With shouts in the rattle of tinware marking his progress along the tier, Tom Wade reached the last cell. Seeing that it's occupant lay motionless on a bunk, he put on his pales and stepped inside. You sick, fella? Peter, I don't want any of your dropped bread and fish water. It's better checked than you're getting most pokies. How do you know? Hey, I've run into you before. Not me. Yeah, I remember now. In the Pipe River Jail. You're Tom Wade. No, I'm not. You can fool me. I'm Dutch Landers. I sailed next to you when you beat the news by busting out. You're local. I'm getting out of here. You move and I'll yell for the share. Oh, don't do that. Don't give me away. Well, I won't. If you help me get out of here. What kind of help do you want? Look, Wade, you bring the chuck in here. Be a cinch for you to smuggle me a gun. Give me a little time, Dutch. Time for what? If you're not here tonight with a loaded six-shooter for me, I'm gonna turn you in. Oh, it's a gun for me or a rope for you. A few minutes later, Wade was with his partner in the back room of the restaurant. Pale and trembling, he told of Landers' threat, asking again and again... What'll I do, Red? Suppose you took him a gun? You'll kill somebody. Remember the sheriff, and I'd be to blame. Would you rather go back to Pipe River than have that happen? It's an awful choice, Red, but I guess I would. After what I've been through, I couldn't stand to have anyone's death on my conscience. Yeah, I know, Tom. You're too good for your own good. Everything was looking fine, and then this had to happen. Talk isn't helping. You'll have to make a run for it. If I do, Landers will talk tonight. That won't give me enough for start to beat a posse. I don't know the mountains. You know the old diggings and shin-bone creep? Worked to me before they peed it out. You go there and hide till you hear from me. Listen, I thought I heard a noise outside the door. I'll see. What was it? An Indian just stuck out of the kitchen. He likely stole a butcher knife. Red, I... I might as well stay here with you until they come knocking on the door. You go and get a horse while I ruffle you some grub. They'll find me sooner or later. Not if I can help it. And I can. 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. Continue our story. Ranger wearing a disguise was a prisoner in the Thunderstone Jail. Arrested while trying to deliver a pardon to Tom Wade. He was unaware of events which had forced Wade to leave his red-headed sweetheart and take refuge in the mountains. Neither did he know that as night fell, Tonto had appeared at the jail. The Indians stood outside the cell block door talking to the turnkey. Oh, me know, you got my friend here. Yeah, was he look like Indian? Well, him big fella. Good clothes. Oh, yeah, yeah. I know the one you mean. Well, the sheriff isn't here, but... Yeah, I reckon I can let you see your father without his say so. Oh, not good. Hey, give me that shooting I used and I'll call him out. Uh-uh, here. Here, you take it. Hey, you were number one cell. Come here. Stand right there. I keep the door open a while. Kimosabi. Yes? Me pine red-headed girl. Where? Her partner in restaurant. Called Slim and Red's place. Me think Slim, fella. Tom Wade. That was Wade who delivered food here this noon. Well, him and plenty trouble. Me hear girl tell him to hide. That's bad. If you fellas are talking about Red from the eating place here, she comes now. Now come here packing that chuck, Red. Slim's away. Yeah, I don't like letting a woman go back to the cells, but I'm busy here. Don't you worry about me. I can handle tough times. All right, go on. But if anyone gets smart, sing out. One moment, Miss. I want to tell you something. Save it, mister. Howdy, boys. Oh, I'll be jiggered. It's great. Hey, boys, we got a waitress in our hotel. Where's that umbra who got shot? I'll serve him food. That critter, he ain't hurt, but you'll find him a bunkin in the far cell. Hey, wait. I'll carry you fail. Thanks, but I'll manage. Here's your grub, fella. Where's that critter who brought it before? What's the difference? Just run out on me. I'll fix it. Now hold on. I've got what you asked him for. The gun? You're looking at it. Well, easy, woman. It's pointed at me in the hammer's back. What's more, I'm pulling the trigger, you woman. No, don't shoot. It's the only way I can keep you from telling on my partner. And I'm not letting him die on your account. I won't tell. Give me a chance. Get up off your knees and take it. I'm getting up. Now you take this hop. Come on, feet. Shut up. I got the gun now. If you're staying in front of me, get going. Look, he's pushing red. He's got a gun. He's making a break. We're all going out. All right. But let that girl alone. I'm running this when I plug the turnkey. Rust the door. We're ready. Put out that lantern. There it goes. Hey, red, you all right? It's a jailbreak. Lock the door. I got him now. Come on, everybody. Let's go. Let's get going. Nobody's staffing us. Tunnel lockers him. Be not fine, King. I don't know where you're to. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. What's that? As they were, the lone ranger and Tunnel fought grimly to hold the cell blocked door. They beat back the first rush, only to be hurled aside by another. Come on. Let's go. You're opting into the jail office and carrying landers and his captive along in their midst. The prisoners gained the street. As they scattered, seizing horses, wherever they could, the lone rangers sprang to the side of the fallen turnkey, while Tunnel ran to the front door. That teller got away with girl, both on horse. Turnkey will live. Which way did lander's head with her? Let him go north. I'll leave a note for the sheriff. Then we'll follow them. At the corral, the lone ranger stripped off his disguise and put on a mask and riding clothes. As he buckled on his guns, which he had left in his saddlebags, Tunnel stood by with the horses. Oh, you think Crook got gun in jail? The girl called Redmond to take it in. Oh, me not savvy that. Me hear her give one into jailer. Whatever happened, she didn't help him willingly. Where you think him take her? Only one way, he can get out of the mouth as if he keeps going north. That's by following Shimbun Creek. Other fellows all head south to good trails. Landers probably figured on that. The posies will follow them. On that right. All right, I'm ready. Set him big for the easy. The next day dawned under the menace of a gathering storm, black clouds dropped over the mountain peaks to the roll of distant thunder. Then suddenly, like ranging shots from a machine gun, bursts of heavy raindrops churned up the water of Shimbun Creek and splattered the rocks where Dutch landers and his captive had dismounted. The outlaw looked at a string of minor shacks on the creek bank just ahead. He grinned wolfishly. Red, I'm in luck. This rain will wash out my trail sign. There's a mining camp close. What about it? I need ammunition and grub. I aim to get them there. Then you better aim again. Those shacks have been empty for months. The diggings have played out. How do you know? I've been here in mind talk every hour of the day. Well, I'm taking a look anyhow. You're wasting time. You'd better write on. Seems mighty queer. You're thinking about what's best for me. Knowing what you do about Tom Wade, I don't want you caught again, you're barman. I guess you don't know that. But I'm down to my last cartridge. I gotta be sure there's nobody there. You walk ahead of me and I'll leave the horse. Why don't you let me go? There's still good protection from bullets. And if the law dogs catch up with me, maybe I can trade you to them and save my skin. I should have plugged you when I had the chance. Hey, I smell bacon frying. It's coming from that sandy there. Fire crazy. Knock on the door. I'll do the talking. Knock, I said. There's nobody there. What are you doing here? Watch out. You're covered, mister. What? Well, if it isn't Tom Wade. So it's you again. He's got me printed. There goes your horse. Let him go. You're not getting the drop on me. He'll head back to town. By the time he gets there, nobody can backtrack him. What do you want, Dutch? Something to eat first. And you'll hear the rest. A little later, the lone ranger and tattle found an overhanging rock several miles from the old camp and stopped their horses in its shelter. The rain was beginning to slacken, but it had left the creek bank a trackless stretch of sand. The masked man pointed. It's useless to look for tracks now. Well, maybe follow a double bank. Maybe him hide someplace where we go by. That's true. They better separate. I've came to something. Yes. Meet here. Oh. There's a rider with his horse coming. He'll head him off. Come on, silver. Get him on the count. He tried him. I've got his bridle. Oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh. There he goes. There he goes. Oh. That's no miner's horse. And him got three white feet. See him as horse, lamb, or steel. We'll backtrack him. Come on, silver. Get him on the count. It stopped raining, and at first it was a simple matter to follow the back trail of the horse with three white feet. The lone ranger led the way with tattle riding close behind. Then there was a change in the nature of the ground. It was harder, and the tracks were less distinct. The masked man brought silver to a slow walk for 100 yards or so, then signaled a halt. Oh, silver. What's going on, fellow? What's going on? Lost it. Very big fellow. Hello. This may prove more difficult than we thought. Uh-uh. Easy, fellow. Easy, fellow. Me study ground clothes. Maybe find sign of horse. From that point on, the masked man and his Indian companion have a call on all their skill at reading trail signs. In one place, the lone ranger found a horse hair caught on the rough bark of a tree. You passed here, fellow. A few yards away, a flat stone showed damp mud on the top side. This stone over time. Good. I'll keep going in this direction. A little later, a newly broken twig furnished a clue, and after that, some bent-down grass. The two proceeded through a woods and across an open stretch. Progress was painfully slow. At times, it seemed like a hopeless task to follow the back trail of the horse. But perseverance was rewarded, and soon the masked man and tanto saw a cabin. Dutch lenders leaned back in a makeshift chair, thoroughly enjoying the cruel turn of events, which had made him master of both Tom Leed and the girl named Red. They waited silently until he spoke. That eating place of yours must make a heap of money. What are you driving in? I want money, Red. Money, a horse, and a lot of other things. Wade's going to get them for me. How much money? I'll settle for $10,000. We won't pay it, will we, Red? He can't turn me in without sticking his own neck out. I can write, fella. A little letter to the sheriff that finish you off, without any danger to me. We'll have to pay the vomit. Where's your horse, Wade? Stabled in the next cabin, and it's ready to ride. You're going to town, Pronto. Don't get any ideas about skipping the country, because I'm holding Red here till you come back with everything I want. So long, Red. So long, partner. Well, sore old Tom. I don't need you any longer. What do you mean? I mean that when Wade comes back, you don't have to be alive, and you won't be. Hell, all you want is he's gone. You're getting all your ass pulled. What do you want to kill me? Listen, you're a red-headed hash slinger. You threw a gun at me. You made me crawl, and I'm going to get square for that. You can't make me crawl. Go on and shoot. All right, you little... A mask man. Got that gun, Landers? Not for you, mister. That was his last shot, mask man. You haven't got me yet. Hold up. I'll take it. That put him down to stay. Do you want any more, Landers? I can't get up, Randy. All right? Darling, how did you get here? I ran into this Indian, the mask man. They turned me back. You must hurry. Yeah. Meet the sheriff coming. Get, partner. Get going while you can. Hold it, all of you. Troubles over, sheriff. There's Dutch Landers on the floor. Hey. You're wearing a mask. I'll let that disturb you. I left a note that brought you to Shin Bone Creek. Now I savvy some things. But how did Landers get that gun? Help me up, and I'll tell you. Well, all right. There now. Let's have it. That woman brought the gun to the jail. She tried to plug me because I know about her, partner. That critter that you call Slim. He's Tom Wade, and he's under a death sentence. You're lying, Landers. Sheriff, I have to accept his story. Huh? Well, then I've got to arrest Slim. Oh, wait. That isn't all of it. Otto, did you bring that envelope from my saddle bank? Uh-uh. Yeah. And he got it, yeah. Good enough. Here, read this, Sheriff. Hey. Well, this here is a pardon. Yeah. It's for Tom Wade. It says he's innocent. Pardon? What time did you hear that? Oh, it's almost too good to be true. Now, if I could beg your pardon to the critter I arrested in the dance hall with Landers, I'd be plumb happy too. And you should be happy, Sheriff. You only did your duty. Who is that masked man, Sheriff? Yeah. I found a silver bullet with the note he left. That means he's the Lone Ranger. The Lone Ranger. Listen there. Come on, stop. 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.