 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 mass writer 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! Colonel Mark Belton, who had won the Army nickname of Old Iron Pants from his hard-riding campaigns against hostile Indians, pointed out a map which hung in his headquarters at Fort Reynolds. He was saying, he'll proceed west by southwest from the fort, following the old Comanche trail through tensely path. Well that is the most direct line of march, sir, but... But what? It'll take us through the Comanche's reservation and under the terms of the existing treaty, no soldiers out of put-put there as long as the Indians remain peaceable. Your blazes with a treaty! I don't intend to go three or four hundred miles out of the way just to observe those idiotic peace terms. Here's come! Major Hatfield's compliments. Yes, yes, Sergeant Groove. What have you to report? Eight new men just arrived at the fort under the charge of Corporal Mark Smith. What do they like? Four immigrants, sir. They can't speak English. Three talk and act as though they'd been recruited from the dead rabbit gang in New York. Corporal Smith is the only soldier among them. Yes, he'd probably have listed under the alias. We had to bring this quite around where I can inspect it from the window. And they said they mean the company's candidate. Yes. Colonel, do you really mean to take those rookies on the march to Fort Greystone? Indeed I do. I'll make them break them in a hurry. All right! There they are, sir. Yeah. They look like the slats in an old picket fence. What? Colonel Squadril carries himself smartly. He has an intelligent face. No. No, it can't be. Colonel, you're real. Let me steady you. Stand aside, Captain Wilson. Why are you staring at Corporal Smith? Smith. Smith. That man is Mark Belton, Jr., my only son. Your son, sir. And he's in the ranks? A lily-livered coward should be in the disoriented grave from which President Lincoln spared him. Colonel, if you'll excuse me now. No, Captain, stay and hear me. This is something of which I must leave my mind. Very well, sir. That craven paltoon out there was in my command during the closing months of the Civil War. I had hoped to send him to West Point, but he enlisted under me against my wishes. I see. At his first sight of the Confederate cavalry, he turned his horse and fled from the field. He must have been very young at the time. He was 16. But his youth was no excuse for his cowardice. Dumber boys of 12 and 13 often distinguish themselves by their valour. I was very much afraid the first time I went under fire. You didn't turn tail. But he did. Because I always felt that I was a father of every man in the regiment, I treated him as I would any other soldier. That was your duty. Martin Belton, Jr. was court-muscled and justly sentenced to death. But the President pardoned him. What happened then, sir? He was given a bob-tail discharge. Colonel, your son is five years older now. Perhaps he re-enlisted under a false name because he has found his courage and hopes to redeem his honor. I'd like to think so. But no, once a coward, always a coward. What do you propose to do with him now? I'll reveal his true identity. Even though it means it is vile record in my relationship to him, we come known to every soldier on the frontier. I'll have him from dead of the fort. I understand your feeling, Colonel Belton, but I'd like to give the boy a chance. Yeah? You want to become the foster father of the shameful creature at his own? He said it? You may say so. Maybe he is your responsibility. Now pass the word that we march at dawn. It was late on the following afternoon when Colonel Belton's cavalrymen and field wagons reached Hensley Pass. The Colonel's son rode in the advanced guard under the direct command of Captain Wilkes. He kept to himself until the captain called him to one side. They are riding stirrup to stirrup. The commissioned officer and corporal were able to talk without being overheard by the others. Tugging at his horseshoe-shaped moustache, the captain said, Young man, your father recognized you yesterday. I know it, sir. I saw him looking through the window at headquarters. He told me what happened during the Civil War. Why are you here? I was assigned to his command by accident. But I'm glad now that we're together again. He doesn't share that feeling. I'll make him proud of me yet, I swear. Captain, believe me, I didn't desert in the face of the enemy. I'll admit I was scared, but I didn't leave him. What happened? The horse I rode into the fight was a remount. It had never been under fire before and bolted at the first volley from the enemy. I lost the reins. The horse carried me to the rear before I was able to get it under control again. Was that your defense at your court, Marshal? Yes, sir. But it carried no weight. The advocates sneered and said that it was as much a crime for a cavalryman to let his horse run away as to run away himself. Corporal? Hey, look up ahead, sir. Mask man. There's an Indian with him. Sergeant Drew, ride back and get the Colonel while we capture that pair. Yes, sir. Detachment, raw revolvers. At the gallop. What? Mask man and the Indian afraid up. Up with your hands, you two. All hands are up. True power. If he becomes on the men, Captain, there's no need for that. We're friends. You look like outlaws to me. Why are you wearing a mask? Before we go into that, I'd like to make a report to the officer in command. Here he comes now, Colonel Belton. Kimosabi. Him, Colonel, soldiers called. Old iron pants. Yes, I've heard of him. Hurley! Hurley! Hurley! Every witch, who is this man? I don't know, sir. But he says he has something to report. The LBC. Colonel, you violated the Comanche Treaty. What do it? By riding along the edge of the reservation, my friend and I noticed looking glass and smoke signals in the mountains. We investigated it. Yes. We found that Comanche Scouts were watching your column and calling the tribe together. Right now, Chief Kwana is moving against you. You would better turn back. Hey, what new advice from a man as civilian? Here is a silver bullet, sir. It may identify me. Hey, recognize me and only by their uniforms in Sydney and on it. May I have the captain's permission to speak to the Colonel, sir? Certainly, Corporal. Colonel Belton, sir. I served under General Miles before I was transferred to your command. Oh, did you, Corporal Smith? Yes, sir. During the Sioux War, a masked man saved my company from an Indian trap. He, too, used silver bullets in his cartridges, rode a white stallion and had an Indian friend. I've heard of that incident, Colonel. It's only another Barric Room legion. You idea that the Army has a champion in the person of a masked man must have been born from the wishful thinking of college and circus. Colonel, you may be going to your death with your command. Then I'll die as a soldier. Now clear out of this pass or I'll have my men arrest you and strip that mask from your face. Very well, sir. Let's go, Donald. Come on, silver. Come on, scouts. Have it. Resume your duties. Detachment at the trap. What? Oh! Come on. As the column continued its march, the lone ranger and turtle reached on ahead of the advance guard. Soon they reached a broad valley from which they had entered the pass after discovering that there were soldiers in it. Out of the dead vegetation which stood shoulder high in some parts of the lowlands, a score of painted warriors suddenly rose and blocked their way. Only two had firearms. They discharged their weapons wildly. The others let loose a flight of arrows. One iron-tipped shaft struck the cattle of the lone ranger's saddle, making itself in a leather-covered wood. Disregarding it, he brought silver around in a tight half-circle and headed him away from the Indians and trod the heights overlooking the pass. Follow me, fellow. Come on. Get him on scout. At that moment, a horde of mottled command chiefs swept down into the valley from the opposite slope, turning the lone ranger quicker to gun three times. He hoped not only to warn the soldiers, but to entice the Indians into a chase. But Chief Juana's brave refused the bait. They rode on into the pass as the masked man and his friend reached the top of a cliff and drew rain. Hold it! Hold it! Hold it! The top of the cliff pointed toward the other end of 10-sleep pass. Look, Kim and Tubby. Can't be more Indian there. I'm riding on a soldier from behind. The soldiers in the rear guard see them. They open fire. And what we do? We can serve the troops best by staying here. Only one Indian out of 10 has a rifle. Their arrows would be deadly if they shot down into the pass from these cliffs. Isn't that right? They use these rocks for cover, fight any attempt the command chiefs make to flank the column and gain the high ground. Get out, you Winchester! The lone ranger and tauto yank repeating rifles from saddle scabbards and unrolled the oiled silk in which they had been wrapped for greater protection against dust and dampness. The wagon train and the sporting troops came to a halt. Hold it! Hold it! Hold it! Captain Wilkes was shot in. Colonel, there are hundreds of Indians at the mouth of the pass ahead of us. Here's your look, bitch. There's just many behind us at the other end of the pass. Staying on a rifle range. Perhaps we should charge them. I think that's what they want us to do. If you doubt, nobody's tuned to one. We'll stay in the center of the pass where they can't surround us. We'll barricade the pass at both ends of the column. Captain, dismount! Forces end horse holdings at the center of the column. Wagonies set up a barricade! As the cavalrymen on the advance and rear guards dismounted, the mule skinners built walls of wagons, boxes, and barrels across the pass at both ends of the column providing the troopers with protection against the Indians' arrows. Then the colonel hurried from the front of the wagon crane to inspect the defences at the opposite end of the canyon. Meanwhile, Chief Kwana had hit upon the idea of shooting down into the cavalry column from the bluffs, which rose to a great height on both sides of the pass. The chief saw that any Indians who followed the paths, which led directly to the tops of the bluffs, would be exposed to the fire of the soldiers at close range. So he sent a small party with bows and arrows to hot a safe way to reach the high ground. From their place of concealment, the lone ranger and tata watched the warriors steal upward toward them via a route which was hidden from the cavalrymen. As they leveled their winchesters, the masked man said, Tata, we'll try to guard them back without killing any of them. Commander, I'll be close now. All right, open fire. Taken by surprise in an exposed position, most of the Indians broke and fled at once, but two young warriors came on, apparently believing that the misdirected shots were being fired by poor marksmen. Better we shoot. No, on your feet. As the lone ranger and tata scrambled to their feet, the brave sprang over the barricade. One drove a knife at tata, while the other swung a war club, aiming a skull-crushing blow at the masked man's head. The curtain falls on the first act of our lone ranger adventure. Before the next exciting scenes, please permit us to pause for just a few moments. All to continue. Colonel Belton's cavalry column had been trapped in ten-sleeved pass by Chief Kwana, the Comanche and his braves. On a clip overlooking the battlefield, the lone ranger and tata fought hand-to-hand with two warriors who had tried to get above the soldiers. As one of them struck with a war club, the masked man raised his rifle with both hands, protecting his head. The blow fell on the barrel of the Winchester, knocking it from the lone ranger's grasp. The Comanche's straightened and tried to raise the spike-studded club again. Oh, you don't. Catching hold of the Indians' war club with his left hand, the lone ranger brought his right fist up from his knee. His knuckles smashed into the warrior's painted face. All right. The Comanche let go of his murderous weapon and staggered back. Before he could recover, the masked man sprang up on him and stripped him of the knife, bow, and arrow-filled quiver which he carried. In the meantime, Tata had succeeded in disarming the other brave and pushed his prisoner forward. Now, what? What do we do with them? Say that they are free to go. How, ma? To throw that? Still silent, the two beaten warriors throwed away without a backward glance. Sun's going down. What do you think Indians do? I don't know, Kimosabe. Chief Kwanah has a lot of fighting men. He overwhelmed the cavalry by sheer weather numbers, if he chose. Him like to save warriors' lives. What's happening down in the past? Look, soldier lead fire in line. Yes, I see him. Trying to reach a wounded man who lies between the Indians and the troops. Now, Comanche, slip out from other side. The Indian is also trying to reach the wounded soldier. Him carry coup stick. If him finish off wounded soldier and touch him with stick, it counters victory for him. He and the soldier who left the line now see each other. Better we shoot Comanche. No, both sides have quit firing. Each wants its man to have a fair chance. Sometimes Indian chiefs fight like that in wars between tribes. That soldier is wearing two yellow chevrons. He's a corporal who knew about me. He crawls through rocks now. Him close to Indian. The Comanche has the advantage because the corporal is trying to protect his wounded comrade. Neither the Indian nor the corporals in the position to fire effectively. Now there's only one big stone between them. The Comanche is going to fire through a crevice in the rock. Corporal hit, him fall flat, drop rifle. The Indian is rushing him with a knife. Now Corporal go on one knee and draw a revolver. They're fighting hand to hand. Corporal hold Indian's knife hand. Indian grab gun. The Indian is down. Maybe other Comanche shoot Corporal now. No, I doubt it. Chief Kwana has a high sense of honor and respects courage. Look, Corporal pick up other wounded man. Him stagger back to army line with them. Indians at this end of the pass aren't raising a hand to stop him. Him safe now. Other soldiers help other fellow through line. A lull followed the single-handed combat between the lines. But the Comanches continue to block both ends of the pass in great force, pinning the cavalrymen to their defensive position. As night began to close in on the beleaguered soldiers, Colonel Belton, who had been directing operations at the rear of the column, turned his horse back toward Captain Wilkes Company. Near a dressing station, which the regimental surgeon had set up among the wagons, he came upon his son. He drew rain. What are you doing here, Corporal Smith? I'm going to the dressing station, sir. Don't tell me that you have been honestly wounded. No, it isn't much, sir. Just my shoulder. Hey, let me see it. Yes, sir. There are powder birds on your blouse. The muzzle of the gun that fired a bullet into your shoulder wasn't far from you. No, sir. You weren't shot by an Indian. Nothing's been close to our lines. I can explain it. No doubt, no doubt. You blamed the horse once for your desertion on the field of action. I suppose a horse shot you. Colonel, I... That's a self-inflicted wound. You wounded yourself to escape the danger on the firing line. Well, it's my duty to shoot you away if stand. Please listen, Father. Don't call me, Father. You're no son of mine, Corporal Smith. I know it's useless to try to talk to you, but Captain Wilkes knows the truth. Ask him how I received that wound. Wilkes is soft. Now, see your prayers. God forgive you. Go on and shoot. No, I can't do it. I can. But there's another way. I've ejected five of the six cartridges in this revolver. Take it. Go. As young Mark Beltin accepted the gun, he looked steadily into his father's grim face. I understand, sir. You expect me to die by my own hand or at the hands of the kind? The choice is you. Go. Yes, sir. Standing stiffly erect, the Corporal saluted the Colonel, then made an about face and marched off toward the shadowy cliffs. For many minutes, Colonel Beltin stood motionless beside his horse, straining his ears for a single gunshot or a triumphant howl from the Indians. Then Hoof strung toward him from the front line. Colonel Beltin, is that you? Yes, Captain Wilkes. Where did you do it for? All's quiet now at the upper end of the pass. Have you seen your son? I have no issue. And you don't know? Know what? While you were at the rear of the column, your boy rescued Sergeant Drew. What? The Sergeant had been wounded and left behind when the advance guard was forced back. I don't believe it. It's a truth, sir. I saw what he did. In order to reach the Sergeant, he had to meet one of Kwanas Braves in single combat. Get it, Wilkes? What's that for? I murdered my son. Meanwhile, the lone ranger and toddler continued their watch on top of the cliff. The masked man was sane. Listen, Otto, someone is climbing up the cliff. He got boots on. Must be soldier. That's the corporal who knew about me. Come over here, corporal. We're friends. Yes, my friend and I have been guarding the high ground. I hoped I'd find you. What are you doing here? I was ordered out of the lines. This is what happened. After hearing the corporal's story, the lone ranger bandaged his wound with a handful of cartridges. You may need them before the night is over. I'm ready to use them now. No matter what my father did to me, I want to save him and the men in his command. I understand. Otto, you better scut around the mouth of the pass. Indian, plenty quiet there. That's just it. When Comanches are quiet, they're more than ever dangerous. Ah, we find out. A half hour later, Otto was back with news that all of the Indians had withdrawn from the end of the pass to the slopes of the valley beyond and appeared to be ready to ride at the moment's notice. The corporal was excited. Now the troops can get out of the trap and fight in the open. I'll go back to town. No, wait, corporal. Otto, do you hear that noise? Ah, me here? Plenty cattle come this way. Cattle don't move at night unless they're driven. Who'd be driving them? The Indians. They rounded up several thousand head of cattle, which the government recently sent to the reservation for food. What good will a cattle do them in a fight? One of Conor's favorite tricks is to make an attack behind the screen of cattle. One of the herd's damn pitted into the pass. What if that happens? Then your father's command will be wiped out to the last man. No, sir. Corporal, not behind me. Sir, he's shot. He's shot. What do we do? Go to the mouth of the pass. I have a plan. A silver and scout bore their riders down from the cliff. The Comanche's cattle drive near the entrance to Penn's sleep pass. The Indians, who had been waiting on the slopes of the valley, converged on the flanks and rear of the herd, shooting, yelling and waving blankets. Conor's warriors spread terror through the herd. In bellowing panic, the longhorns fled before them. Heads tossing, hooves trampling down the tall grass and brush. The stampeding cattle and their savage drivers were a half mile away when the masked man and his friends reached the low ground. He was shouting, We'll fire the grass ahead of the herd. Then let me turn up for a mess. We haven't time to stop. Father, use your canteen to wet the loop end of your lariat. Then wad up the oil silk you had around your rifle and cast the rope to it. I'll do the same. Without slackening the speed of their horses, the lone reindeer and his Indian companion made the preparation which he had ordered. Then they touched matches to the balls of cloth and trailed them along behind through the tinder drive agitation. Soon two trails of fire marked their course. The cork rolled back. The grass is blazing halfway across the valley. Fire running cattle. The herd is gaining on us. Faster, sooner, faster. Get him up, scoundrel. Then the sudden gust of wind ripped out of the pass into the bottleneck of the valley, tanning the blazing grass. The twin lines of fire mobbed, overlapped, and became a high wall of flame which raced back toward the onrushing cattle. Look! The herd is splitting! Some cattle turn back. Some head for high ground. The Indians are running for their lives. Hold it! Hold it! Hold it! Hold it! Okay, silly big fella. It'll be a long time before Quannock can reorganize his warriors. Now you won, mister. The troops can move out of the pass now. Some come out now. Yes, the advanced guard. There's Captain Wilts and my father. Oh! Oh! Oh! Colonel, they're the mass band of Indian friends. There's a soldier on the shores. I'll get down now, mister. Mark! Mark, my boy. I thought you... May I have the Captain's permission to speak to the Colonel, sir? Permission? Sir, from now on, nothing will stand between us. I'm as proud of what you did today as I am sorry for what I did. Sir, I... I only tried to live up to the name, I bear. Now it's for me to try to live up to your name. Give me your hands, sir. As the Mark Beltan senior and junior, Colonel and Corporal chuck hands and tears melted from the battle-hardened eyes of old iron pants. Captain Wilts turned to the Lone Ranger. Mister, we were watching from the mouth of the pass when you set the fire that saved us. You were three against thousands. Captain, we wanted to say both the troops and Comanches. Even though the Indians were in the right, a victory over your cavalry would have led to their destruction by other soldiers. This trouble could have been afforded by respecting Kwana's treaty rights. Yes, it's true, mister. I admit that I was wrong. Wrong about my son, wrong about the Indians, and wrong about you. If I had followed you at last... It's not too late to turn back out of the reservation. Are there any Comanches behind your column now? No, none, sir. I just received a report that all the Indians at the rear disappeared after the fire started. We'll move off the Indian lands at once. The fire will burn out as soon as it sweeps the valley. Little has been lost in the action at 10 sleep pass. I hope that much has been gained. Adios, gentlemen. Goodbye, sir. Father, yes, sir. Here's your revolver. You'll find silver bullets in the chambers you unloaded. Silver bullets, Mark? What do they mean? They mean that all of us saw our lives to the Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created by George W. Trenville, produced by Trenville Campbell Enterprises, directed by Charles D. Livingston, and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Grace Beamer.