 The speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty high old silver! The Lone Ranger! Before this exciting adventure, a word from our sponsor. General Mills, makers of Cheerios, the ready-to-eat old cereal that gives you go-power, and Wheaties, the breakfast of champions, present by special recording, The Lone Ranger! Now there's something new and amazing right on the Cheerios package, a picture that actually moves. Look for the magic wiggle picture, free on specially marked Cheerios packages. You've never seen anything like it. Just pick up the box and your wiggle picture springs to life-like action. It actually moves. And there are six different wiggle pictures in all. One on every Cheerios package. Peg Leg the pirate opens his treasure chest. Freddy the fiddler plays his violin. Leopold Lyon roars at a bird. Flipper the seal balances a ball. Reginald Rabbit eats a carrot. And Happy Watha the Indian paddles his own canoe. Yes, they all move. And they're all in full color, made of sturdy plastic. So get all six magic wiggle pictures. Amaze your friends with their life-like action. Use them in dozens of ways. As hair clips, bookmarks and badges. Magic wiggle pictures. Now free on every specially marked package of Cheerios. The ready-to-eat oat cereal that gives you go-power. With his faithful Indian companion title, 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 hoofbeats of the great horse Silver. The lone ranger rides again. Come on Silver, let's go be close. I am Silver, follow me. The mission of Santa Maria stood at the edge of a desert. Clustered around the main building with a house of Pottery Philippe, a cabin of a few servants and Indians, and a lofty tower, the bells in which could be heard even farther than the tower could be seen. It was the hour of best furs when the lone ranger and tautle turned their horses into the mission courtyard. Seeing no one around, they rung up near the bell tower. Who's that rascal fella? There's the Padre. This is a mission. Why are you here in that mask? This letter will introduce me. Please read it. From another Padre whom I need not name, you know him well. So I do. He called you a good friend. That is enough for me. He told me that you asked his advice and help in the matter of a missing book. Oh, now I understand your presence. What was the nature of the book? It was the journal of the founder of this mission, a handwritten manuscript bound in horse hide. I discovered it only recently among the many old documents in the mission archives. Indeed, I had not found time to read it before it disappeared. Could it have been mislaid? No, no, my son. Much as I regret to say so, it must have been stolen by a man I trust. See. He is Stephen Dunn, a land agent with an office in the town of Capergrounde. I often let him do research work in the mission archives. He alone had an opportunity to remove the journal. All right, we'll see that man, Audrey. Thank you, my sons. But use no violence, I beg you. We won't, if it can be avoided. Adios. Adios. As the masked man and Indian set out for Capergrounde, which was some 15 miles from the mission, Stephen Dunn opened his office door to two burly men in rough clothes. Howdy, scrap. Howdy, Gus. Come in, grab some chairs. We heard you wanted to see us, boys. I sure do, boy. We want to help you fleece another tender foot. Not this time. I've hit on something a lot bigger than selling worthless land. Spring it. See the spring? We'd be blind if we didn't. There's no notebook. It's the journal of the Padre who built Santa Maria Mission. He wrote it better than 200 years ago. Yeah, whatever. He was coming to these parts with a bunch of Spanish soldiers. They'd been to a mine somewhere and had a heap of gold. You aimed to sell a worked-out mine on the strength of that? Let me go on. The Spaniards lost most of their horses, so they couldn't pack all the gold to get all the men back across the desert to Mexico. The old Padre and some others stayed behind and started the mission. So what happened to the gold? They couldn't use it to buy anything. So the Padre made it into the five bells of the mission. There was no iron around and the gold worked up easy. You can't stuff us. Boss, gold won't ring. I want it. A gold piece rings. Well, that hard gold is mixed with them. So was the gold used in the bells. Five gold bells? You're worth a cup of fortune. Yeah, they're mighty heavy. We can get them down with rope and tackle and haul them off in a wagon. If we're careful, we won't even wake up the Padre in his engine. We can melt them down. That old smell that you've been trying to sell. That was my plan. When do we go after the bells? Tonight. I've got a wagon waiting at the corral. It's loaded with all the gear, provisions, and water we'll need. Now, wait a minute. There's one thing I want to know before we start. What if Gus and me get out of this? Why, the usual 10%? It isn't enough for a big job. We want equal shares for equal dangers. Well, that's how it is. Gus, he's drawing. Don't, don't, don't, don't stab me again. I... I don't need you. You're finished. Let's get out of here. There's no need to hurry. Nobody comes to this office this night. I got the book. Leave it. Leave it. Don't stole it. The sheriff finds it. He'll figure anybody low enough to rob a Padre. Need it. Yeah, but it tells about the bells. Share those pages out and we'll burn them later. Hey, our savvy. That's it. Now, we'll go after those bells. Meanwhile, the low ranger and puddle had arrived in Casa Grande. Standing in an alley which ran beside the land agent's office, they studied the place. The masked man was saying... There are no windows on this side. It looked like light come out of street windows. Somebody came out on top of us. Maybe land agent. One of them. No, they're too rough. They dressed too hard. Two of them. It's good time to go in now. All right, come on. Buddy, here. Look, there on his desk. Oh, oh, look. It's a journal of the old Padre. He must have it. Yes. Look behind desk. Man on floor. Must be done. He'm dead. Stabbed. He hasn't been dead more than a few minutes. Maybe we saw killers. Come on. They're not in sight. What we do? We take a quick look along the street and notify the sheriff. Sheriff Mark Mason was an old and daring lawman, but he had the faults of being impulsive and jealous of his authority, maintaining that he could keep order in the county without assistance. He had long since fired his deputy and dispensed with the use of posses. Sitting in the jail office with a month old newspaper in front of his face, he heard the door open. Without lowering the paper, he growled. Yeah, what is it? I was reporting you. Thanks, man. Eddie, Sheriff, we're on your side of the law. Then what's it thanks for? Let's talk about that after I report a murder. Murder? Who's been murdered? A masked man quickly told what he and Toto had seen and found, explaining about the old manuscript. The sheriff's eyebrows contracted as he listened. Then he exploded. What business did Partway Flee pair sending for a mask, fellow, to look into a stealing case? I neither ask nor take credit for any help I give the law. But that's beside the point. By word of talk, he and the killers are escaping. I'll get them in my own good, fam. I know from your description, yes, who they are. You do? Sure. They're a couple of folk cats called Gus and Strap who hold up on a run-down ranch on Squawk Creek. They've been helping Don on some shady deals, so I reckon they killed him over dividing the money. Well, in that case, we'll be going... That priest we are! Ah, him pulled guns when we turned back. Well, that priest gives guns. As the sheriff reached for the Lone Ranger's guns, Toto used his hip to give a violin shove against the table, he tried which the lawman stood. Toto, the sheriff swung his gun towards the Indians at the same in simple Lone Ranger's world and grabbed his gun-hand. Let go! Let loose my arm, eh? Whist that gun out of his hand, fellow. Get it? Sorry about this, Sheriff, but you gave us no choice. You can decide, well. If you can be sure to steer there, that's worse than murder. We'll leave it in front of Don Laffer's. Yeah, you'll pay for this. It was several hours later when the masked man and Indian swung from their saddles in front of the Padres house. The aged priest met them at the door, lamp in hand, and lighted their way inside. Come in, my son. Thank you, buddy. You're not gone wrong. Only long enough to get your manuscript. Do you mean... Here it is. Yes, that's the drill of the founder of the mission. But how did you recover it? That wasn't difficult. He found it on Don's desk. He was dead. Murdered by two men on a scrap and gut. See, I have heard of that evil pair. Apparently, they did not share Don's belief that the book was worth taking. So it would seem. A thousand thanks for recovering the journal, my son. Oh, will you not rest here tonight? We appreciate your hospitality, Padre. But a bright moon and cool breeze makes this a good night to ride. We have a long journey ahead of us. Adios, Padre. As the long-range uran toggle rode away from the mission, the killer halted the land agent's wagon and a couple of girls nearby, just pointed with a slip. There's the bell tower. And here's the light. It's in the Padre tower. Don't keep your fill up, Salih. I don't know, but we can't wait for him to go to sleep. Well, let's get down and do it. Our great belief was deeply engrossed in reading the recovered manuscript. He had discovered that three pages were gone, freshly torn from the others. But he gave that mystery little thought so great was his interest in what remained. As he traced the sated writing with a finger, there was a lock on the door. The Padre looked down puzzled. Who is there? I've got a sick woman in my life. I'll be with you in just a moment. Grabbing straps. I've got him set loose of me. Shut up or I'll let you have it with his nuts. We'll continue our lone ranger adventure in just a moment. All over the country in every direction All you do when it's a question And here's what the happy people have to say Oh, we defend the do-do-do-do And okay, okay. Sure, take champion Bob Cousy, who can really make a basketball do tricks. Bob was born in New York, plays with the famous Boston Celtics, leads them all in fast break play, and Cousy knows the champion way, starts his day the Wheaties' way. Take Neil Johnston, another great champ from the East. Say Neil has been eating Wheaties since he was three feet tall instead of six foot eight. Grew up a long ways on him, didn't he? Mighty appetizing eaten, and there's a whole kernel of wheat in every Wheaties' flake. Eat body, do your Wheaties Then you'll be do-do-do-do And okay, okay. Now to continue. The lone ranger and tato had left Santa Maria Mission after recovering an old manuscript, which had been stolen from Padre Philippe's archives. Shortly after their departure, two killers known as Scrap and Gun, seized the Padre at his door. The Padre was protesting. Do you men know what you are doing? It's better than you do. Now start talking and start walking. Marching the priest into the cottonwood grove at the point of a knife, the killers gagged him and lashed into a tree. Then they drove their wagon to the bell tower. Swiftly and silently, they unloaded their gear and lugged it up an inside ladder that led through a trapdoor to the bell free. Just blankets over the four openings. That done, he struck a match. Just look at the bells. They're fastened this beam with bolts in a big rivet. All right, let's get busy with the tools. There's no standing still. They used to last forever. Meanwhile, the lone ranger and tato had interrupted their ride in order to rest their horses. As they stood in the trail, the Indian asked, what time came a copy? Oh, I'll see. Oh, what's wrong? You lose watch? No, I found something in another pocket when I reached for a match. The piece of paper that wasn't there before the night, it was like parchment. Oh, and he got candles and matches in here. Now, you've got light to see. That is parchment, it's freshly torn. But the fallen out of that old manuscript I had in the pocket, it got words on it. Four complete words left. One is Santa, another is Maria. That's the mission, of course. Another is Campania, meaning bells. The last one is oral, which means gold. Oh. And what's your make of it? The valuable pages in the manuscript were torn out. This graph is part of one. No, me savvy. It's why we find stolen books in plain sight beside dead men. Yes, that fact should have impressed us at the time. Must be them colors after something that mission. Yes, and the pottery may be in danger. Get them out of city silver easy. We're going back to the mission. Somebody on the tail ahead of us. Can you pull that? Yes, you can. Mr. Sheriff, you've got me too. We've got to the right. We're going to the right. And bullets come from many clothes. He's following us. He's still not running. That will take time. We'll separate. The one he can't follow will be able to reach the mission quickly. He's happy. And he'll go to the left. Looking back a few moments later, the lone rangers thought that the sheriff had chosen to pursue Tahoe. He turned his big fight force toward the mission again. He muttered near the entrance and cautiously made his way to the potlays house. He drifted down from the belfry. Guided by the moonlight, which poured through the open portal, he found the ladder. Loosened his guns, began a stealthy assembly. The last river. We can push that bell loose now. We can. But I heard something below. Get your ear down on the trapdoor. Sure. Keck can let him come through. Shoot no wake-up Indians. I'll get him with my life. The lone ranger looked at the trapdoor, just far enough to see it was pitch black in the belfry. The masked man through the door wide open. At the same time, he used his free hand to remove his white hat, which you would be visible even in the deep room of the belfry. Holding it by the brim, he slowly lifted it through the opening. There he is. Down he goes. Just struck. No savage was the downward stab of his blade that when it sliced into nothing by an empty hat, he almost fell headlong through the hole. At the portal to save himself, the lone ranger leaped from the ladder to the floor, unable to determine the odds against him. The masked man back toward a wall, drawing and training his guns in the direction of the trapdoor. Who are you? Why are you here? At the sound of his voice, scrap leaped upon his back, getting one arm around his neck. I got him. Just help me. Hold on to him. Come on. At the portal to his feet, he got in contact with one of the blankets, which covered the openings in the tower wall. He grabbed it and jerked it loose, letting in a flood of moonlight. The light revealed that the killers were crouched and ready to charge. Grab Gus. You better give up. He knows it. He's got a mask on. He's got a mask on. What's true against what? He'll even through that hole. The cooks closed in. The masked man swung a powerful right at Gus. Take it. Go! He caught the killer on the side of the hat, knocking him backward into the bell. He showed him hit the bell, which clanged as he fell. Hardly had the din of the bell died out and there was another, even more ominous sound. The beam on which the five heavy bells had hung for two centuries was giving way. Weakened by age, the work of the cooks and the fight that was in progress. Gus scrambled to his feet where they yelled, The beam breakers! Having strap-ified, the masked man leaped for the opening from which he had torn the blanket. At the same instant, the beam broke. A ton of bells crashed against the bell-free floor. He gave way under the impact. Just as beam bells and flooring went down, the lone ranger got one leg over the bottom of the opening wall. The strap gave a despairing yell. As from below came the dawning flood of wreckage hitting the ground. There was a moment of silence. Then excited yells told that the Poggrades' Indian Converts were gathering in. From his perch in the embrasure, the lone ranger looked down the shaft. He saw that the ladder, which was fastened tightly to the wall, had not been damaged and could easily be reached. He swung himself onto it and began a careful descent. In the meantime, one of the Converts, wakened by the struggle in the bell tower, had discovered and released Poggrade Philippe. The old priest had arrived at the tower just as the bells fell. As he stood there, as much bewildered as the Indians, Papa rode up. Papa rode up! Papa! My friend! My friend! My friend! What happened here? The beam broke while I was fighting two crooks. The one was to steal the bell. I managed to save myself, but they're dead in the wreckage. I thank God that you survived. But why did those men want to steal the mission bells? I just looked at one by Matt's light and not badly damaged. But a break in one showed that they have a high gold content in their metal. Gold? Yes, enough to make your mission very rich. Matt, what crooks find out from an old book? That has caused all this trouble. The three crooks who knew the bells were made of gold are dead. Here are the pages from the old manuscript which told about the bells. Where did you find the pages? I just took them from Scrap's body. Now only three of us know the secret. It's safe. Then you and Tonto will never tell? You have our word for that, Padre. Thank you, my son. The bells of Santa Maria will ring again. Oh, it's the sheriff. Hurry, hurry, hurry! So I finally run you down. I'll get your hand, dear. Wait, put that gun away, sheriff. Oh, dear, you son is a fugitive. I want them for witnesses. Now, sheriff, Scrap and Gus are dead inside the tower. They were killed when they fell from the top of the bells. Oh, that was the noise I heard, eh? How did it happen? While you were chasing us, they tried to steal the mission bells. It did. There you are. Now, they can have made a fool of me, sir. They also made violent hands on me. Well, eh... They make sure they about that, poor dear. If I had done this mass, man, an engine any long night. I apologize for that, too. There's no need of that, sheriff. Adios, Padre. Go with God, my son. Hold still! Get him up, son! Now, who in formation might that mass man be? I have it from another Padre. He's the lone ranger. Hold still! Hold! The Lone Ranger, a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, is produced by Trenville Campbell Muir Incorporated. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beemer, your announcer, Fred Floyd. Listen to the Lone Ranger brought to you by Special Recording Mondays through Fridays at this same time.