 In just a moment, you'll hear James Stewart as the six-shooter. Just one of the many great stars brought to you on Sundays on NBC. Every Sunday here, Hume Cronin and Jessica Tandy in the marriage. Sir Lawrence Olivier on Theatre Royal and Lawrence Tibbet with the golden voices. Helen Hayes, Frederick March, Rex Harrison and Lily Palmer on the NBC Star Playhouse. All of them heard only on NBC. James Stewart as the six-shooter. The man in the saddle is angular and long-legged. His skin is sun-dyed brown. The gun in his holster is gray steel and rainbow mother of pearl. It's handle unmarked. People call them both the six-shooter. The NBC radio network presents James Stewart as the six-shooter. A transcribed series of radio dramas based on the life of Britt Ponsett. The Texas planesman who wandered through the western territories, leaving behind the trail of still-remembered legends. Now in just a moment immediately following this important announcement, you will hear Act One of the Six-Shooter. A lot of vacations start as a daydream and end as a daydream for lack of money. That need not happen to you. You can have extra money when you need it. Simply join the payroll savings plan for buying United States savings bonds. When your bonds mature, you'll get back $4 for every $3 you invest. And there's your extra money, your vacation, both guaranteed. Ask your employer about buying United States savings bonds through the payroll savings plan and then join. Now, Act One of the Six-Shooter starring James Stewart. The wind had died down and it was quiet now. The only thing I could hear was the crick crickling away about 20 feet down from where I'd made camp for the night. I shifted my blanket, turned over on one side. The moon came out and I could see the water skimming along, washing the pebbles clean. Gee, it's funny the way the sound of a crick always makes you drow. I started to close my eyes and then I got that same feeling again. That feeling I had all day. Scar fell in tune. Ever since we turned off the main road into the trail to Petersville, I had a hunch that there was another horse no therefore behind. Whoever was riding to manage to keep out of sight, but it was the same kind of a hunch you get when you feel a pair of eyes drilling into the back of your neck and then turn around and spot somebody staring at you. Scar hadn't been traveling very fast. Anybody could have caught us. It was really easy. A fellow back there hadn't wanted to catch up. That is if my hunch was right. It wouldn't be the first time I played their own hunch. No point of losing sleep over it anyhow. It was Scar that woke me up. I could see a shadow over by my pile of grub and not more than six, eight feet away. I inched my hand from under the blanket and I got a grip on my gun. Are you looking for something, mister? Oh, no. Hold on. Oh, just a minute. Hold on now. That's better. I'd kind of like to find out why you... You're pretty young to be roaming around this country, aren't you, son? I'm eleven. You're the fellow that's been following me all day? It's a free trail, ain't it? Yeah, yeah, I guess so. Then you ain't got no right to interfere with my riding over it. Oh, that's true enough. But you haven't got much right stealing my grub, have you? I didn't steal any. Well, that's what you were fixing to do, isn't it? Maybe. Ah. Now, if you're hungry, you're welcome to it. I've got plenty of grub here, but you just didn't have to come sneaking around to... I didn't know who you was. I was afraid you might try to send me back home. Well, just where is home? Crescent. Oh. Well, if you'll stir up the fire, I'll see what I can do about heating up some beans. How's that sound? I'd appreciate it. Good. All right. Hand me that panel, will it? There we are. You won't tell nobody you ran to me, will you, mister? You won't tell them you seen me. Well, I... You're not taking me back to Crescent. No matter what happens, I'm not going back there. You understand that? I'll take it easy now. You're not the first boy to run away from home, far from it. Most of them hike off when they're about your age, and... But they don't usually miss more than one meal before they turn back. At least I didn't. What happened? Did Dad give you a weapon? No, sir. Pop wouldn't hurt me either. He's a fine man. The finest man that ever lived. Sure, yeah. Well, here's your beans. I'm heading for Petersville to find my father. He told me when I was big enough I could join up with him. Well, big enough now, ain't I? Well, yeah. Real good-sized boy for 11, say that much. How come you haven't been staying with your dad? He moves around a lot. Oh, I see. So I've been living with Aunt Aggie ever since Ma died. But it's not the same as being with your own pa. No, no, I guess so. I made up my mind. As soon as I found out where he was, I was going to him. Are you sure your dad's in Petersville? Aunt Aggie got a letter from here last Monday. I heard her talking to Uncle Ray about it and heard him mention Pa's name. It sounded kind of worried, like something had happened to him. Uh-huh. Then when they saw me, they shut up. You reckon Pa's sick? You reckon that's what they were talking about? I don't know, son. It could be that. I asked them what was in the letter, but they wouldn't tell me. Now I'm going to find out for myself. Well, seeing how I'm heading for Petersville too, I guess there's no reason why we shouldn't ride along together. And if we're going to be traveling companions, we ought to introduce ourselves, don't think? My name's Larkin. Rink Larkin. Oh, please make your rank. I'm Britt Ponsett. Britt Ponsett? That's right. So they call a sick shooter? Where's Mr. Ponsett? I didn't mean to talk back to you the way I did if I'd known who you was. Say, would you mind showing me your gun? I've heard folks talk about that gun of yours ever since I was a kid. Yeah, sure. Here, catch. Oh, boy. He ain't near as heavy as the looks. Well, you know about guns, right? Some. Want to see me give it a twirl? Sure, let's see. Hey, that's fine. Whoop, whoop, whoop. Of course, I think the way you do it, though. Here, Mr. Ponsett. Thanks for showing it to me. Sure. Well, I guess we still got a couple hours before sun up. Why don't you bring your horse over here by the fire? Maybe we can get some shut-eye. Good idea. Oh, Mr. Ponsett. Yeah? I'm not pleased I bumped into you tonight. So am I, rank. So am I. We got an early start the next morning. That is considering that it took me almost half an hour to get rank awake on his feet. It was about four o'clock when we got into Petersville. I hadn't been through that way for a couple of years, but the town, it hadn't changed much. But the only thing different I saw was a new livery stable and a fresh coat of green paint on the Jacks' No-Town. Men playing checkers in the front ports, hey, they hadn't changed at all. Except maybe their beard's a little grayer. Of course, my hair wasn't exactly the same shade it used to be, you know? But that was from being out in the sun so much. At least that's how I figured it. Well, we pulled up the side of yellow adobe building right next door to the hotel and climbed off all horses. Now come on, rank, let's go inside and see what we can find out about your father. That's the sheriff's office. Mm-hmm. Sure, he'll know where he is if any... What's matter, rank? I don't like sheriffs, that's all. Haven't been given you trouble, have they? I don't like them, neither. I've heard him say so once. He was talking to a friend of his and heard him say how he hated some sheriff. Oh, well, I don't imagine he was talking about Sheriff Jay. There's good sheriffs and bad sheriffs, like everything else. Most of them are good. Come on, now, come on. Come on, sir. Hello, Sheriff, hi. What in tunderation are you doing at Petersburg? Well, the widow Jenkins has gone east for a daughter's wedding. She asked me to look after her place while she's away. Well, it sure is good to see you. Hey, who's your friend here? No, this is Rink, Sheriff. He was coming to Petersburg, too, so we decided to ride along together. Pleased to meet you, son. Howdy. Matter of fact, that's why we stopped in to talk to you. Rink wants to find out about his father. I'd be glad to help out if I can. What's his name, son? Larkin, Earl Larkin. I'm sorry. It's just a couple of hours too late. Too late? I wrote to your father's sister in Crescent. Her answer came in on the morning stage. She said she didn't want your pa's body, for us to bury him here. Pino was this morning. Pa? Pa's dead? Well, you knew about him being killed, didn't you? Your aunt told you. I guess she didn't, Sheriff. Oh, I didn't mean to blurt it out, Britt. I figured it out. How? I thought... How did it happen? You don't have to talk about that now, son. I want to know. What happened? Look, suppose you come up to my house for supper, huh? After you've had a nice home-cooked meal. What do you know good to start, Sheriff? I want to know who killed him. You'll find out anyway, Sheriff. Yeah. Yeah, I guess he will. All right, son, it was me. You? Marshal over at Atterbury sent word that Larkin and his pal Cliff Traeger were heading this way. I thought about them before. I knew what to expect. He rode into town about noontime. I was waiting inside the bank. I had depotized some of the boys and they were with me. Your Pa and Traeger didn't have a chance, son, but they shot it out anyway. Wouldn't drop their guns, even though we had to draw on them. Traeger, he got away into the hills. But Larkin... I'm really sorry, son. Sorry I had to be the one to do it. Even sorry, Er, I had to tell you about it. You're a liar. A dirty, stinkin' liar. My Pa never tried to rob no bank. You take it back! What you said about it! I'll make you take it back every word now! Here, now, you... Dirty rotten... I'll rank here. Get a hold of yourself, you're not... Go on, he killed my boy. He's a murderer! I didn't want to hit your rank, but I... Why shouldn't you hit me? You're his friend, ain't you? He killed my Pa and you're his... I think I ought to go after him, Britt. I'll try to explain. No, no, I... I expect it's best to leave him by himself for a while. But this wasn't the first hold up Larkin and Traeger tried to pull out by a long shot. I didn't have no chance. I know someday the boy will understand. Someday when he's older. The trouble is, things don't wait for a person to reach the understanding age. They happen anyway. Whether a person's ready for them or not. It doesn't look like rank's ready. Not for this, anyway. We'll return to James Stewart as the six-shooter in just a moment. Monday night brings magnificent musical programs to the NBC radio network. It's an evening design for restful relaxation. A time to sit back in your favorite chair and listen to melodies old and new on such famous programs as The Voice of Firestone, The Railroad Hour, and The Telephone Hour. The Voice of Firestone continues to enchant radio audiences from coast to coast, and the program is now in its 25th year. Also on Monday evenings, enjoy the operettas presented on The Railroad Hour. Gordon McRae is your Railroad Hour host, and each week he is joined by a charming guest artist in the stellar productions of this fine show. You'll also want to hear The Telephone Hour every week, as it presents the music of Donald Voorhees and the bell symphonic orchestra and chorus, as well as superb guest soloists. Listen Monday evenings on the NBC radio network. Now, act two of the six-shooter, starring James Stewart as Britt Ponsett. After I made sure of a room for the night, I started out looking for rank. I had a hunch I wouldn't have a hard time finding them. There was only one cemetery in Petersburg, on Slope and Hill, west of town. Pines all around it, and soft green ferns mixed in between the trees. The rink was there, sitting on his haunches, right beside a mound of fresh earth. He wasn't crying, but his cheeks were streaked with wet dust where the tears had been. Oh, rank. Say, these things were your pause. I thought maybe you might like to have them. Want some supper? I'm not hungry. You believe what the sheriff said, don't you? You believe he was right to kill Pa? Well, I wasn't there. I didn't see how it happened. But you're on his side anyway. Oh, people don't have sides, rank, not on a thing like this. I do. I'm on Pa's side. He was a good man. Never did anybody harm, never. No matter what that lion sheriff says. Well, maybe you saw your dad different from other folks. And that doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe with you, he was different. I want to make it up for him, Mr. Ponson. I'm going to get even with that sheriff. I will, so help me. Now, you listen to me. Let me alone, Mr. Ponson. Just stop, John, and let me alone. All right. All right, rank. Now, if you change your mind, you, uh... You know where the hotel is, huh? Good night. I thought he would change his mind. I thought he'd get cold out there in a couple of hours, and he'd come sneaking into the hotel room. But he didn't. He didn't change his mind. I didn't sleep very much. You know how it is when you're expecting something to happen. You sort of keep thinking about it in spite of yourself, and you just don't sleep very soon. Anyway, I... Yeah? Who is it? Me, Britt. Sheriff Jay. Oh, oh. Oh, come on in, Sheriff. Oh, morning. Oh, but it didn't wake you? No, no. I wasn't asleep. I should have been up a long time ago, but I hand me my boots, sir, would you? Oh, sure. All right. Boy's not with you. Uh, no. No, I haven't seen him since last night. No, don't worry about it. Uh-huh. Doesn't matter. Thompson's hardware store was robbed at about 3 a.m. No money missing. Just a revolver and some bullets as far as Brad Thompson can tell. Oh, I see. Got in through the back window. Found some boot prints outside. Small boots. The size of boys you're wearing. Wait. Find anything else? Yeah. There's a pretty clear trail leading away from behind the store. It'll be really easy to follow, almost as if the fellow who robbed the hardware store left the tracks intentional, so somebody'd come after him. What happened to that towel? Oh, there it is. It was the Larkin kid, wasn't it, Britt? No, it could have been. Don't tell me he's got some full notion of revenge on his father. He did say something about getting even, Jay. So he figures when I go riding after him, you'll get a chance to kill me. Is that how you see it? It's pretty hard to be sure what's going on on a youngster's head sometimes. Don't go on it, Britt. Sometimes I wonder why I keep on wearing this style. No matter what you do, it's wrong. Her Larkin ain't the first man I've killed not by long sight. He deserved it, more than most. Killing him didn't end much, and just turned his kid back. I guess I should have... Let Larkin kill you? Oh, no. You gone after a rink? Oh, well, maybe the kid will come to his senses. When you're 11 years old and you get set on accomplishing something, you don't change your mind very easily, you know? What do you expect me to do, Britt? Woping those hills and shooting it out with an 11-year-old boy? I got a son of my own. Ned's just about the same age as Rink. Huh? If Rink was covering me right now, they're in that door. If I saw his finger starting to squeeze the trigger, I wouldn't be able to shoot. No matter what, I wouldn't be able to shoot. Where's his trail lead? East, over towards Skull Mountain. Oh, um... We're to Jenkins Ranch right over that way. I'm right not here this morning. Well, I guess it doesn't matter whether I go after Rink or he comes after me. Might as well get it over with. That's what you think I ought to do, ain't it, Britt? Oh, no. No. Oh, not necessarily. All I was thinking was that if it did happen to decide to follow Rink, well, we could ride out together. Partway, at least. We're getting pretty close to Black Canyon, are we? Yeah. Yeah, it's only about half a mile. If somebody wanted to set up an ambush, that canyon wouldn't be a good place, wouldn't it? Yeah. Well, here's the turnoff to the Jenkins Ranch. Huh? Oh. Oh, yes, yeah. Uh, that's right. Well... Ma Jenkins wasn't expecting me before sundown, so I didn't need to turn off this yet. I could ride along with Sheriff Jay a little bit further. We were moving through Black Canyon now, rocks on both sides, under cover for a person who wanted it. Rink's trail went straight straight ahead. And that's why we didn't pay much attention to what was happening behind us. Not enough attention, anyway. I did hear something, little scratching noise. By the time I turned my head, a barrel of a revolver was poked out through a crevice between two boulders. And it wasn't Rink who was holding a gun. All right, boys. What? And don't rage. Traeger! Oh, dear. Though you're not to rage, next time won't be a hand. Who are you? My name's Ponsett. Britt Ponsett. Oh. Sure took your time coming after me, Sheriff. Well, you're waiting for somebody like the sick shooter to give you a hand. I never thought you'd be full enough to hang around. Right. Give you credit for having good sense. I'd have been glad to move on, but my horse went lame on me. Besides, you put a bullet through my shoulder, remember? I just hold still, Sheriff. The wound is healed now. Okay, I'm out of the saddle. But don't hurry things come down slow one of the time. You first, Ponsett. Your turn, Sheriff. Now, walk forward a couple of steps. Wave me a horse. Hold it. Boy, I forget it. What happened to Locke? I said... He died a couple of hours after you and him held up the bank. All right. That's where it goes. All right, now let's... You haven't seen his kid, have you? What? Locke's kid? Yeah, a boy about 11 years old. And what would I be? You mean he's in these parts? Yeah, he's gunning for the sheriff here. See what it takes after his own man, don't he? What do you mean, Traeger? Well, that was Locke's trouble. I liked the gun too much. Oh, sure. It wasn't so bad when we first teamed up, but after a while he wasn't happy unless he could start a gunfight. That's the sheriff. You know, I was there at the bank. Now, if it'd been up to me, we'd have given up when we saw he had his corner, but not Earl. Any half. You might have been better off if you'd given up. No, no, not me. Earl, maybe, but not me. Anyway, he'd have been killed sooner or later. That was always blazing away. Someone's always going to blaze back at him. Now, me, I'm different. I don't enjoy killing the way Earl did. Of course, there's times when a man don't have no choice. Traeger. Like today, maybe. I gotta have a horse, and I gotta make a break out of these hills. Now, look, Traeger. Well, as I see it, there's only one way of getting a horse and then making sure you boys don't follow me. Traeger. At least that's how I see it. Guess it don't leave me much choice. Does it? He cocked his gun and a ray of sunlight glinted off the barrel as he tilted up just a fraction of an inch and then his trigger fingers started curling back real slow like he was playing with us, making us wonder which one of us... I wasn't sure which one of us was going to get it first. If it was me, Sheriff Jane might have a chance to draw before Traeger could fire again. If it was the sheriff, then I... His aim was right between us. He was taunting us and he knew it. The slightest move by either one of us... Yeah, that's right. Keep on wondering. Keep shaking. Nerves. Which one, you think? Be both of them. Because you're nice and close. His trigger finger kept tightening. Slowly. Slowly. And boys, it's gonna be now. For a split second, trigger just stood there, not moving. Then he fell down his face and I saw a rink rise up from behind a rock about eight feet away. Right. Hello, Sheriff. Mr. Ponson. Hello, right? You... you... Holy mackerel, son. You sure turned up at the right time. You been hiding behind that rock all the time? You seen me, didn't you, Mr. Ponson? When I snuck up behind that rock, that's all you kept talking about, Pa. Uh, well, uh... I thought I saw somebody. I thought I saw somebody. I figured it might be you. Sure hoped it was. I'm glad I heard what he said, Mr. Ponson. Otherwise, I'd never believed about... I'm sorry I called you last year. I'm sorry I tried to get you out of here, so I... Now, now, don't you worry about that, Rick. We were mighty grateful for what you did, both of us. You sure know how to handle a gun. Pa taught me. I still don't see how I could have been the kind of man who... was also so good to me. Sure, Rick. Oh, I know. Well, it sounds like Trader still got some life in him. Oh, yeah, yeah. Well, we better be getting him back to town. Come on, Rick, give us a hand. Well, since I was going to be alone on the Jenkins place while all the Jenkins went east, there didn't seem to be any good reason why Rick couldn't stay along there for a while, too. At least until the time for school to take up again. So I wrote a letter back to his aunt explaining things. She wrote back. She didn't seem to have any objections. But somehow, reading between the lines, I got the feeling she kind of missed that boy, Rick. And, well, one very long before he began, let's her, too. One of the finest things you can do is support your local community chest or United Fund. Through them, you can make just one yearly contribution that takes care of many needs. Since only one campaign is staged, much time and effort are saved. Your money is collected and administered honestly and efficiently. So give generously to your community chest or your local United Fund. The six-shooter is an NBC radio network production in association with review productions. It is based on a character created by Frank Bird and the transcribed story is written by him. Mr. Stewart may currently be seen in the Universal International Picture Thunder Bay. Others in the cast were Sammy Og, Russell Thorson, and Tony Barrett. Special music for this program was by Basil Adlam, and the entire production is under the direction of Jack Johnstone. All characters and incidents were fictitious, and any resemblance to actual characters or incidents is purely coincidental. This is Hal Gibney speaking. Here's stroke of fate next on the NBC radio network.