By transcription, the bakers of Weber's Bread presents your all-star Western Theatre. Lifting a long thing and a song under a western moon. From Hollywood comes your all-star Western Theatre, starring America's great Western singers, Boy Willing and the Riders of the Purple Sage. Bringing you the music, the stories and the spirit of the great open spaces. Now to raise the curtain, the Riders of the Purple Sage, and singin' a song of the sage. Listen to the song of the wind, listen to the song of the rain, listen to the song of the sage bird, callin' to me again. We and the pony are free, singin' a song of the sage. We never care where we be, we never work for a wage. We live a life of leisure here on the desert dry. We never search for a treasure, we want nothin' gold can buy. We lose the cares of our age, singin' a song of the sage. We live a life of leisure here on the desert dry. We live a life of leisure here on the desert dry. We singin' a song of the sage. Boy, it's come to my notice that this new song, Arizona in the Morning, is another that you and Sid Robbin have written. You're right, Bob. A Westerner just has to express his love for the West in one way or another. It's a really great thing. Come, my honey, where it's sunny, why such a song? See the desert painted gold, that's the place where we belong. And Mother Nature comes a-bornin', Arizona in the Morning, that's my home. Arizona in the Morning, that's where heaven comes a-dawnin'. Up in the sky, hear the west wind softly blowin', listen to the rooster crawlin' high. Come, my honey, where it's sunny, why such a song? See the desert painted gold, that's the place where we belong. And Mother Nature comes a-bornin', Arizona in the Morning, that's my home. You know, there's something about the West that appeals to most everyone. Maybe it's the thought of adventure, maybe it's the carefree Western spirit, maybe it's just the feeling of space. Anyhow, it is mighty appealing. And that's the way it is with Weber's Bread. Folks like it for lots of reasons. That tender, rich flavor, for instance. The way it stays fresh longer. It's appetizing, evenly baked crust. But most folks don't try to figure it out. They just know Weber's Bread tastes mighty fine, and that's what they want. Bread is important right now, you know, so it's a good idea to buy the bread your family likes and to sure to finish to the very last slice. Next time you buy bread, reach for Weber's, the good fresh bread in the blue and white gingham wrapper. The writers of The Purple Sage again, and a song that has become identified with them. Holiday for the Blues. You gotta start in a singing and you gotta shout. You gotta keep on swinging, kick the blues right out. Don't you let it get you, you got too much to lose. It's a holiday for the blues. You gotta start in a shouting till you're feeling fine. You gotta keep on a doubting, gotta rise and shine. Keep the rapid ringing till you settle for few. It's a holiday for the blues. The sun is out a shining, the sky is bright and clear. It's no time to be pining, no time for having fear. Go calling on your neighbor, go out and spread the news. Cause it's a holiday for the blues. You gotta start in a singing and you gotta shout. You gotta keep on swinging, kick the blues right out. Don't you let it get you, you got too much to lose. It's a holiday for the blues. You gotta start in a shouting till you're feeling fine. You gotta keep on a doubting, gotta rise and shine. Keep the rapid ringing till you settle for few. It's a holiday for the blues. Once riding on my pinnacle, I just sent my jeans. It felt like it was weeks since I'd had pork and beans. I said let's jump in the river, my horse said I refuse. Cause it's a holiday for the blues. I went out to the racetrack. My horse gave me a smile, leaned over and he whispered, I'll win this by a mile. I didn't feel unhappy though I lost my shirt and shoes. Cause it's a holiday for the blues. You gotta start in a singing and you gotta shout. You gotta keep on swinging, kick the blues right out. Don't you let it get you, you got too much to lose. It's a holiday for the blues. You gotta start in a shouting till you're feeling fine. You gotta keep on a-doubting, gotta rise and shine. Keep the rapid ringing till you settle for few. It's a holiday for the blues. Well it's time now for Foy Willing and the Riders of the Purple Sage to tell us another of their adventures in the west. This week they've called their story, The Rabbit. Chautau Cave, which as you well know lies in Moss Valley, has twice been a place where history was made. The first was when Indians were forced into the cave and kept there until they surrendered. The second was when trigger Bill Weaver used it as a hideout and was captured. In both cases, those who used the caves met disaster. Thus has come a superstition that it brings bad luck. But now in the warm sun of autumn, there seems little chance that the cave or the valley will ever again be a place of more than contentment. At least so thought the Riders of the Purple Sage as they rode lazily across the valley. No troubles of their own weighed them down, and the troubles of others seemed slight, hardly worth talking about. Sure could have eaten half a dozen bags for breakfast. Yeah, me too. I'd give a lot to know why everybody turned us down when we tried to buy some. I'm kindly inclined to believe folks were telling the truth and that somebody has been robbing the nest. Robbing the nest? To not bother to take along the chickens? That don't sound sensible. Maybe a weasel's doing it. The kind of a weasel who knows about the high price of eggs these days, I reckon. Hey, Welland! Oh, hey, Welland! Listen. Wait there, Welland. I want to see you. Hey, that's Sheriff Rice in a posse, ain't it? Howdy, Sheriff. Howdy. Must be tracking down an egg thief, huh? Yeah, I'm mighty glad to be running into you, coward. Yeah, howdy. You find out anything about the egg thief, Sheriff? Egg thief? What egg thief? For a week now, had nests around here. You're looking for a man who's escaped from the state-initiated asylum. A local? Got away ten days ago. It's every reason to believe he's headed this way. Maybe he's stealing the egg. A man about 55, medium height, slightly bow-legged. We haven't seen any strangers at all, Sheriff. Just came through the tides last night. Well, he's dangerous. We've got to find him before an accident happens. Well, if it'll help, we'll be glad to join you in the hunt. Yeah, sure will. Well, that's what I wanted to hear. Come on, boys. We'll go over this territory with a fine tooth comb. We'll either get this hombre or we'll make sure he's not in our county. Sheriff, Sheriff Bryant. Over it, men. Who? This way. Over to Child Town Cave. All right, boys. Let's go, men. You're what you're buying, boys. You haven't got him, have you? Well, there's footprints leading into the cave and none leading out. I figure we had better pass up anything. Only a stranger would use the cave. Nobody around here. It's bad luck. Suppose I take Al and Johnny, Sheriff. We'll go in. All right. Don't take any chances, though. He's dangerous. Let him get past and then signal to us. We'll never mind here. Right. You men surround the entrance. Have your guns ready, but don't use them unless I give the word. Al, Johnny, let's go. This is the first time I ever had anything to do with a loco. Presently, I hope we don't find him. No chances, boys. Let us get him out here. We'll be all right, Sheriff. Al, you go in at the out-of-the-wall. Johnny, we'll go in on this one. Sure hope he ain't got a shooting arm. Can't tell about such things. We'll just take it easy. See anything? Not yet. Keep moving in. Hey, something up ahead. Hold it, Johnny. Hey, there we are. I'll go on. Gun ready, Johnny? Yeah. We'll try every other way before shooting, but be ready. Hey, boys. Johnny, come here quick. You got him? Oh, but look. Eggs. Here's the eggs that's been stolen. Who cares about eggs? Hundreds of them. Hundreds of eggs. But what's happened to them? I'll tell you what's happened. They've been died. Them eggs all been culling. Look. Red eggs, green eggs, purple, blue. Hey, shooting. Hey, Willem! Willem, we got them! Come on! Let's go, boys. Sheriff's got the loco. Get your horses. We saw the loco run across that white ground. Looks like they got out by another entrance. Come on! I tell you, he is in this cabin, Sheriff. We saw him come in. Yeah, but we've examined every square inch of space here. Well, he couldn't have gotten out. Your men surrounded the cabin, and they're still surrounding it. Well, he's not here, though. You fellas continue the search. But Al and Johnny and I are going to stay right here. All right. I hope you find him. Anything is better than having a desperate lunatic at large. We'll call your office if we have any luck. Well, how come we're staying for? We saw a man come into the cabin, and we know he didn't go out. Then he must still be here. Al? Huh? Al the boy. Is that you? Well, where are you? I don't see you. Just a minute. Watch it, Al. Johnny must be the loco. Well, how come a loco would know me? Look at there. A board in the floor is raising up. A man. A man's coming out from beneath the floor. Howdy. Howdy. You're running your night in my restaurant? Yeah, there. I almost had you. But I birded deep under the floor and hit you. Nothing like a good bird to hide out in. Easy, Al. Take it easy. You know who I am, don't you, Al? Well, I'll be a mostly haunted varmint with a twisted tail. You do. I'm Uncle Edgar. Uncle Edgar? Papa's brother. Remember? Well, I have known Uncle Edgar, but I ain't seen him in years. Why, I come all this way to find you, Al. Been here ten days, more or less, trying to get in touch. Headed for your diggings as soon as I escaped from the booty hatch. From the... Oh, he's it, all right. What you looking like that for? You don't think I'm loco, do you? Well, to tell the truth, I don't even know if you are, Uncle Edgar. I have an uncle by that name, but I lost track of him years ago. Look at me, Al. Easy, Al. I got my rope ready. See anything familiar? All I see is you wiggling your ears like a mule does. Ha-ha. Rabbit. You're wiggling your ears like a rabbit does. Don't the air wiggling bring back no memories to you? Can't say that it does. Not, huh? I was famous for my wiggling ears. Why, when you was a little fella, you used to come over to my house and bolt your bait three meals out of heaven. Never fail once to ask me to wiggle my ears. It was me who gave you that three-bitten great pony when you were sick. Well, I remember the pony, but... Well, don't go any... You must be my uncle. Who else... ...could remember them things? Oh, can't blame you none. Been a long time. All the good things happened then, before I was railroaded to the booby hatch. Railroaded? Oh, yes. In-laws did it right after gold was discovered on the land. You were still a little tight. Boy, what do you think? Well, I'm willing to take a chance. Instead of turning your uncle over to the sheriff, I'd like to take him back to camp with us. Mister, if you're willing to spend a day or two as a sort of hatch prisoner... I'll do anything, just anything, for a chance. All right. We haven't made up our minds about you, but when we do, you've got to promise that you'll abide by our decision. Whether it's to turn you over to the authorities or to fight for your freedom. That's got to be understood. Oh, uh, before we bed down, I want to thank you boys for the chance you're taking. Well, there's no hurry about bedding down, Uncle Edgar. We don't mind setting up for a while. I was thinking about the campfire. Sure, it might still be out. We'll take care of you. Yeah, yeah. Sure, nice here. Wish I could have made it out in the booby hatch sooner. Always had it in mind to get in touch with you, Al. Then I'd think, well, maybe Al's like all the rest of them. Nobody nowadays believes a fella can be railroaded into the booby hatch. It just can't happen, they say. But there's more than one man locked up right now who's just the same as me. Once they get a doctor to say you ought to be put away, what chance have you got? Nobody can come near you. You can't go near anybody else. Oh, a fella's just helpless. I reckon we better take this matter to somebody high up, don't you, Forth? To the President. We'll go right to the President. The Governor of the State is the man we want to see, Johnny. Well, let's see him then. Let's bust this thing wide open. You go ahead and bed down if you're tired, Uncle Edgar. We'll sit up for a while and make plans for riding on in to the State Capitol tomorrow. Won't do no good to go tomorrow, Forth. Tomorrow's Sunday. Yeah, that's right it is. Is it Sunday? Is tomorrow Sunday? Sure is, Uncle Edgar. My, how time passes when you're out. Sure is flowing there, though. I feel sorry than ever for the fellas who've been railroaded. They're as sane as I am. Oh, uh, before I get my shirt on, I'd like to suggest we stomp on the ground with our hind feet to signal in case anything goes wrong. This way. That'll be the signal for danger, three times. And to show everything's clear again, suppose we stomp our hind feet five times, like this. All right, all right, Uncle Edgar. You agree, Forth, Johnny? Right, Johnny. What about me? Well, tomorrow's Sunday. Better get some shut-eye. Night. Poor fella. He sure had it tough. Hal, Johnny, I'm not gonna wait even until tomorrow to do something for him. I'm gonna start out right now. I'm for that. You two stay here and watch out for him. I'll take care of him hard, and I'll bring help of one kind or another by morning. Boy's taking this so hard, you'd think Uncle Edgar was his uncle. Yeah, poor's an awful nice guy. Tender-hearted. Sure is. Hey, what's Uncle Edgar doing now? Digging a hole, looks like. Hey, Uncle Edgar, what are you doing? Borrowing. Borrowing? Do I have a nice, cozy place to sleep? You mean you sleep in a hole? Sure, nice and warm. Besides, nobody can find you if you do that, especially if you pull twigs and grass over the top. Okay, go ahead. Johnny must be awful to feel people are hunting you all the time. Sure must be. Think of it, sleeping in a hole in the ground. Johnny, Al, wake up, you arm-wrecker. Yes, sir. Good morning already. Where's Uncle Edgar? He's sleeping over there. In the hole he dug. A hole? Sleeping in a hole? Yeah, right. Wait a minute, he's gone. Johnny, something's happened to Uncle Edgar. I'll bet he... Fine guard you are. Me riding all night long trying to... Gee, boy, we must have slept right through. Wait a minute, somebody's coming. Wellen, Oh, Wellen, is that you? Howdy, sir. Howdy. I've got more trouble on my hands. Eggs are being stole from the ranches hereabouts. Why, we told you that yesterday, Sheriff. First I heard about it was this morning. Half a dozen Easter eggs was left in front of my door. I investigated, found the same thing had happened all over town. Howdy, folks. What? Well, there's Uncle Edgar. Yeah, kind of early. Wait a minute. There's the loco. There's the loco I was looking for yesterday. Well, hold on now, Sheriff. Keep your hands off him. He's been on the loose. Take it easy, Sheriff. You promised to protect me, boy. Now you said you'd... We'll protect you. Sheriff or no sheriff, if you lay a hand on my Uncle Edgar, you'll answer to me. And me, too. There's been a little misunderstanding here, Sheriff. But this fellow's description tallies exactly with... Oh, I know all about that. He's the man you want. But he was railroaded into the lunatic asylum. Oh, that's not possible. Not in this day and age. Well, it sure happened. Gold was discovered on Uncle Edgar's ranch, and his in-laws framed him. Are you speaking the truth, boy? Well, figure it out for yourself, Sheriff. If some doctor could be bribed to declare a fellow insane, and a judge were to sign the commitment papers, what chance would a man have? Once he's inside, he can't communicate with authorities. They can't communicate with him unless they fight to do it. Well, yeah. Yeah, that's right. You locked up like that almost 20 years, weren't you, Uncle Edgar? And all because gold was found on your ranch. Well, try it all on account of the gold. Is there something else, too, Uncle Edgar? Most folks don't want to believe in me. They swear up and down there ain't no such thing as an Easter rabbit. What? Easter rabbit? So they locked me up. Then, of course, I couldn't do my work. Easter rabbit. Them died eggs? Now, just get away from me. Now, get away. This is Sunday, and I'm not finished my work. No shooting, boys. Use the rope. Well, I got more eggs to do. You can wiggle your ears, can't you? And stomp on the ground with your hind feet to signal. You sleep in a burrow. Where's the pig in the spring? Well, twigs and grass over the top so you can't be seen. I tell you, you can't do this to the Easter rabbit. It's wrong. I ain't took my eggs to all the houses yet. You can't do this to the Easter rabbit. We sure won't ever be able to ride through this county again. That sheriff wants to lock us up for hiding and protecting the man who escaped from an insane asylum. You can be thankful for one thing, though, Al. Me? Sure. We sent a telegram and found out your Uncle Edgar is still living on his own ranch. And that this fellow is just an hombre who used to work for your uncle. Yeah, I'm thankful about that. Sure would be awful to have an Easter bunny in the family. Well, you know, after an adventure like that, the boys aren't going to believe all they hear and very little of what they see. But there's something the boys always believe in, and that's Weber's bread. Like thousands and thousands of Southern California housewives, they know Weber's is always satisfying because the flavors are natural. Just the bake right goodness of fine ingredients. Seems like you don't have to tell the kids to eat the crust. When you serve Weber's bread, every bite is tender and flavor rich. Remember, Weber's bread isn't just a filler inner. It's a basic energy food, good to the last crumb. So be sure to buy Weber's, the bread in the blue and white gingham wrapper. Now it's time for that kind of Western music which deserves to be heard over and over again. Carrying on as it does the real spirit and the real traditions of the West. Today we've chosen one which does all that and more. The writers of the Purple Sade sing Tumbling Tumbleweed. See them tumble and down, wedge in their love to the ground. Only the three of them fell, ripping along with the tumble and tumbleweed. Cares of the past are behind, nowhere to go but our fun. Just for the trail we'll run, drifting along with the tumble and tumbleweed. I know when night has gone, that a new world's born at dawn. I'll keep crawling along, deep in my heart is a song. Here on the range I belong, drifting along with the tumble and tumbleweed. See them tumble and down, wedge in their love to the ground. Only the three of them fell, ripping along with the tumble and tumbleweed. I know when night has gone, that a new world's born at dawn. I'll keep crawling along, deep in my heart is a song. Here on the range I belong, drifting along with the tumble and tumbleweed. Well, that's about it for now, friends. We hope you'll be with us when we come drifting along next week. Before we go, we'd like to thank Horace Murphy, Tom Holland, and Joe DeVall for their good work in helping us tell our stories. This is Poy Willing speaking for Al Sloey, Johnny Paul, Scotty Harrell, the writers of The Purple Sage, saying so long and good luck to all of you. Ripping along, singing a song under a western moon. From Hollywood, you have heard your all-star Western theater, a B.M. Behr production, starring America's great western singers, Poy Willing and the writers of The Purple Sage. The script was by Ray Wilson and direction by Tom Hargis. This is Bob Green speaking. The all-star Western theater came to you by transcription and returns next week at this same time over this same Columbia station. This program came to you from Columbia Square. This is KNX in Los Angeles bringing you the Vaughan Monroe Show.
