Fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-yo, Silver, the Lone Ranger. In companion Tonto, the masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early western United States. The stories of his strength and courage, his daring and resourcefulness have come down to us through the generations. And 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. We're heading for Prairie City. I'll, Silver. Typical of the settlements which sprang in the wake of America's march westward, Prairie City was a lusty, fast-growing boomtown whose latest achievements included a bank, a new schoolhouse, and a newspaper, the Prairie City Chronicle. In the ink-stained office of the Chronicle, John Denby, proprietor, and his pretty daughter, Mary, quietly celebrated the success of their paper's first year. Prairie City Chronicle, one year old today. Oh, Dad, it looks lovely. One year old. Seems like only yesterday that we printed the first issue, doesn't it, Mary? Yes. Have you been happy here, Dad? Happier than I ever thought I could be after, well, after what happened back east, Mary. Don't think about it, Dad. The west has a future, Mary. It's young, strong, ambitious. Someday this town will be a city, pushing out over the plain farther than your eye can see. When it does, I'd like to be able to say the Chronicle had a hand in making it grow. Yes, Mary, I'm happy here. But I can't help having a feeling... What, Dad? Well, that folks around here will find out my name is John Blake instead of Denby. That I'm wanted by the government for making counterfeit money in the east. Oh, Dad, how could they? I don't know, Mary, but... Besides, it wasn't your fault. Ormond King forced you to engrave those counterfeit plates. The law doesn't know that, Mary, and I can't prove it. It's preyed on my conscience, so every time I see Sheriff Bartlett, I'm tempted to tell him who I really am. Oh, no. It'll all work out in time, Dad. I know it will. Promise you won't say a word to the sheriff. All right, Mary, I promise. Now, let's sit down to that turkey. I'm hungrier than a starved screech-o. Oh, Shaw. I'll go, Dad. You carve the turkey. Good afternoon. May I... Why... It's Mary, isn't it? You. No, it can't be. Oh, you've grown, Mary. Very pretty, too. What do you want? Who is it, Mary? It's me, Blake. Ormond King. Yes. Never expected to see me again after you skipped out on that last job, huh, Blake? I admit I've had a time trailing you, especially after you assumed the name Denby. But you should have known I'd turn up again someday. Bad pennies always do. Or should I say bad banknotes, huh, Blake? I can't believe it. Well, you seem to be celebrating something. Turkey, plum pudding. Can it be that you anticipated my arrival? Why did you come here, King? That last batch of phony paper money you made for me got too hot to handle in the East. So I decided to take Horace Greeley's advice and go west. Get two things straight at the start, King. Folks here know me as John Denby. You've made my real name, John Blake, a hunted criminal thing which I dare not use again. Very well. It's Denby from now on. And second, I'm through engraving plates to make bogus banknotes for you to pass on innocent people. Dad, what's the matter? You shouldn't excite yourself so, Denby. You'll overtax your heart. As it happens, asking you to engrave counterfeit plates never entered my thoughts. What do you want of me, then? I want your press, Denby. Press? Yes. Press in which you print your newspaper. I'm sure you'll understand when you see these. Counterfeit plates? That's right, Denby. You engrave them yourself back East. Remember? See, here's one to make $100 notes. Another to make $50. You mean you're going to print counterfeit paper money from those plates on my press? You're going to print it, Denby. I'm going to pass it. But I can't... Paper money is new to the West. It'll be easy to fool people here with the banknotes you print and exchange them for silver and gold. You won't get away with it, King. Someone will spot a note as counterfeit and they'll trace it to you. Oh, you forget that I'm an accomplished actor, Denby, with a talent for disguise. While they're hunting the man who passed the counterfeit, I'll be exchanging other paper notes. Masquerading as someone else. Don't let him do it, Dad. Freddy has no choice, Mary. What do you mean? Your father is already wanted by the government for making counterfeit money. If he refuses to cooperate, I shall be forced to reveal his whereabouts and his assumed name to the federal agents. He's right, Mary. I have no choice. Dad, you can't. If that worthless paper money is circulated in Prairie City, a lot of innocent people will lose their savings. It'll give the town a black eye from which it may never recover. I know that, Mary. A while ago, I dreamed of helping Prairie City grow. Now I'm forced to do everything I can to hold it back. I guess it just wasn't in the cards, Mary. Now, you're being sensible, Denby. Sit down at the table, Mary. We'll celebrate our new partnership. You know, turkey is my favorite dish. A week after Ormond King's arrival in Prairie City, a man wearing a suit that was obviously too small for him and carrying a battered old satchel, entered the city bank and walked up to a teller's window. He looked and spoke like a foreigner. I want to change this banknote to silver money. Hmm. One hundred dollars. That's a lot of money to be carrying around, stranger. They bring it with me all the way from New York. It'd been safer than carrying silver, yeah? We don't see much of this here folding money out west. Wait here till I get permission to cash it, will you? Yeah, sure. Come in. Sorry to disturb your banker, Holmes, but there's a man outside who wants to change this here banknote for hard cash, gold and silver. Hundred dollar note, eh? What kind of looking fellow is he? Well, he's a foreigner. Hmm. Well, it looks genuine enough. Them counterfeiters we've been warned against are so slick, you can't be too careful. Yes, you're right, banker Holmes. Well, there's a government circular I received just the other day about a counterfeiter named Ormond King. He used to be an actor and is clever at wearing disguise. You think I better cash this here note? Well, I guess it won't do any harm. But write down a description of this foreigner. Keep track of him. Never can tell. We might need it. I'll do that. And, uh, when you're through, report back here. I'm going to write a letter to James Baird, the federal agent at the county seat who's been sending us them circulars about counterfeiters. I'm going to invite Baird to come to Prairie City and examine this here banknote. I want you to post a letter. Be back in a minute, banker Holmes. And I'm sorry to keep you waiting, stranger. That note of yours is the first paper money we've seen in this town for some time. Here's your hundred. Hard cash. Thank you, master. By yimini, I'd buy me store with this, I bet you. Now, don't let anybody shortchange you, stranger. I won't. I'll see you again, yeah? Come in any time. If you only knew it, he's the one who's been shortchanged. This is a cool one hundred dollars. And by Ormond King. A few days later, a lone horseman picked his way along a rocky ravine that led to Prairie City. He was James Baird, the federal agent banker Holmes had sent for. Careful now, Rex. I don't want you breaking a leg on one of these rocks. It's as treacherous a trail as I've seen. Suddenly, from behind a boulder, a stranger appeared. He wore a suit that was obviously too small for him and carried a battered old satchel. Morning, mister. Your name been James Baird, yeah? Oh, oh, oh, Rex. Oh, there. Yes, that's me. Who are you? I got a message for you from Banker Holmes. Banker Holmes, huh? Well, what is it? This. You say, that's a gun. Who are you, anyway? That's something you'll never know, Baird. Well, I don't understand. A minute ago, you talked like a foreigner. You aren't the first to be fooled by my disguise, Baird. Now, climb off that horse. This is your idea of a practical joke. No joke, Baird. Get out of those clothes. What? I'm changing clothes with you, Baird. You'll pay for this, mister. Disarming the federal agent, Ormond King forced Baird to trade clothes with him. After the change had been made, Baird continued to protest. I don't know what's behind these shenanigans, stranger, but I warned you... You're coming very tiresome, Baird. Let me see how you look. Oh, splendid. You look more like that foreigner I was impersonating than I did myself. But what's this, Olo? A touch of makeup added to these clothes of yours I'm wearing. I shouldn't have any difficulty at all impersonating James Baird. Indeed, I doubt anyone will ever know the difference. What do you mean? As the shot reverberated through the rocky ravine, a white stallion pricked up his ears, and his rider, a tall man wearing a white hat and a black mask, reined him in abruptly. Hold, Silver. Hold on. That was a gunshot, Tonto. Come on, Silver. Get him up, scout. Guiding their horses through the treacherous ravine, the masked rider and his faithful Indian friend soon sighted the target for the shot they had heard. It was the body of a man lying face down the dusty trail. Beside the body was a battered old satchel. Oh, Silver. Hold on. Hold on. Easy. We're too late, Tonto. Ah. Him dead. Judging by his clothes, he looks like a foreigner. Oh. He must have me. What this? It's a satchel, Tonto. So, Easterners use them on business trips. Doesn't seem to be anything in this one. A man with gun may be robbed a foreigner. It's possible, Tonto. Oh, wait. There's a wallet on the trail. Oh. It's stamped with initials. Hmm. The initials, J.D. I wonder. Help me with this fellow, Tonto. Yeah. Oh, look at the belt buckle he's wearing. The initials checked. No. The initials on the belt are okay. Him not saying that? No. And if the dead man isn't the owner of the wallet, the killer must be. Oh. Him maybe drop wallet. Not no. Uh. Kimisabi. What is it, Tonto? Me open wallet. Find much money. Yes. Three $100 banknotes. That's a lot of money for a murderer to be... Wait, Tonto. This money is counterfeit. What counterfeit? Bogus. Worthless. This paper money has been cleverly faked to resemble real currency and fool innocent people. Uh. How do you know? It isn't always easy, Tonto. The main point to remember is that the workmanship is inferior to that of real money. Now, look here. Uh-huh. See how smudgy the borders of this bill are? Uh-huh. How blurred and broken are the lines in the portrait? Well, in real money, the lines are clear and firm. Uh-huh. Tonto savvy. I've heard that counterfeiters were operating near here. I didn't know they'd come this far west. Uh, you think the... The murderer is a counterfeiter, too. And his initials are J.D. Come on, Tonto. We've work to do. Uh, you wait, Kimisabe. What is it, Kimisabe? Uh, footprints murderer make before him shoot. Not same footprints him make in getaway. You're right. The murderer left shoe prints when he approached this spot. When he left, he was wearing boots. That means that... Murderer changed clothes with dead man. Make believe him victim. Right, Tonto. And his tracks are headed for Prairie City. Yes, Silver. Help me lift the body across Silver's saddle. Tonto will be off. Let me help. There. Easy. All right, big fella. Get him up. Just count. Get him up. Come on, Silver. 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. Now to continue our story. Leaving the dead man at a deserted ranch, the Lone Ranger and Tonto entered the outskirts of Prairie City and slowed their hard-ridden horses to a walk. What we do now? If we only knew the identity of the man we found murdered on the trail, Tonto. As it stands, all we know is that the murderer is a counterfeiter. Any source here can give us a lead on the man we're looking for. It's a city bank. Let's go. Meanwhile, in the private office of Banker Holmes, a stranger identified himself as James Baird, the federal agent Holmes had sent for. Your credentials seem in proper order, Baird. Thank you, Banker Holmes. Now, if you let me see that note you asked me to examine. Here it is. Hundred dollar bill. We don't often receive this here paper money at the bank. And after them circulars you sent out, I was a mite worried for fear this note wasn't genuine. Naturally. You needn't worry about this note, however. It's quite genuine. You're sure? Certainly. Counterfeit money is my business. Yeah. That's right, ain't it? I'll just put this note away for safekeeping. If you've nothing more to show me, I'll go along. But I'll be in Prairie City for a few days if you wish me to examine any more banknotes. I hear paper money is becoming popular in the West, so I shouldn't be surprised if more of it turned up at your bank while I'm in town. Come in. Sorry to bother you, Banker Holmes, but there's a masked man here who says he wants to see you. A masked man? Yeah, says he's got important business with you. Oh, I don't want to... Banker Holmes, I'd like to talk to you. You can't. I'll see here. Who do you think you are? Shall I throw him out, boss? I wouldn't advise you to try it, my friend. Close the door. Sure, sure, stranger. Banker Holmes, have any banknotes similar to these come to your attention recently? Three $100 bills? Yes. Why, yes, stranger. Got one just the other day. Looked just like these. A foreigner brought it in. Did you say a foreigner? Yeah, wait a minute. Got a description of them in this drawer. One of my clerks write it out. Here it is. Does it describe this man as about six feet tall, dark hair, dressed in a suit that's too small for him and carrying an old satchel? Yeah. Say, how did you know? My friend and I found a man answering that description on the trail. He was shot. Shot? Have you any idea who did it? This gentleman's a federal agent, James Baird. I sent for him to come from the county seat and examine the foreigner's note. The county seat, huh? That's at the other end of the trail. Been in town long, Baird? About an hour. Why? I merely wondered if you'd had time to examine Banker Holmes' note. Of course. It's genuine. Oh, I see. What's your opinion of these three bills? Why, uh... Yes, they seem to be genuine, too. Sorry to call you a shot, Baird. These bills are counterfeit. Counterfeit? Then the note the foreigner brought must be counterfeit, too. Probably. I found these bogus bills in a wallet near the place where the foreigner was shot. What kind of a counterfeit expert do you call yourself, Baird? You told me the foreigner's note was real. It is real. Are you going to take the word of a masked man against mine? He may be the counterfeiter himself or even the murderer. Say, stranger, who are you, anyway? Well, that's not as important as why I'm here. Now, have you any idea who the foreigner might be? Well, no, I ain't. Matter of fact, I didn't even see him when he came to the bank. If he was one of them counterfeiters, though, these government circulars ought to give us a clue. Yeah, who's this one on top? Ormond King. Just about the slickest of them all. Circular says he used to be an actor and is clever at wearing disguise. Ormond King. The initials O.K. Fitz. Huh? If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'll look into this case. I, uh, I assume you left the murdered man as you found him. I didn't say he was murdered, Baird. I said he was shot. What? Where can I find you later? My friend and I are staying at the old Rogers Ranch. The old Rogers Ranch. Well, I'll see you gentlemen later. I don't know what to make of that fella. I do, Holmes. May I see that note you had? Oh, sure, stranger. Yeah, here it is. Yes, just as I thought. This note is counterfeit, Holmes. Counterfeit? But hey, where are you going? Hey, stranger! They just left the bank. Now, Tonto see him. Follow him. Find out if his accomplice is the man whose initials J.D. are on this wallet. You're not come to? I'll wait here for your return, Tonto. If our friend suspected I was trailing him while he tried to escape, you think him... That man is the murderer, Tonto. Short time later, Tonto returned from his mission and reported to the masked man what he had seen. Kimo Sabe, Tonto from a band. See him go in the newspaper office. Sign over door, say, John Denby. John Denby. Huh. Well, that fits the initials, J.D. I wouldn't be surprised if the counterfeit money is printed on Denby's press. What do we do now? Was Baird there when you left? No. Him only stay a few minutes. Him in plenty big hurry. I imagine he would be. Let's go, Tonto. We're going to have a talk with John Denby. Come on, Silver. Get him up. Come on. Raining their horses, the masked man and his Indian friend quietly approached the office of the Prairie City Chronicle on foot. Downstairs was heavily shuttered as if concealed from passers-by some mysterious happenings inside. But in the second floor rear, a crossbar jutted from an unshuttered window. There's our entrance, Tonto. That window on the second floor. Ah. And how'll we get up? I'll hook the crossbar with my lariat. There. Now we'll make a noose at one end for our feet. Fasten the other end to the pommel of Silver's saddle. Yes, Silver. That's that nod will hold. Ready, Tonto? Ah, Tonto ready. All right, big fella. Good boy, Silver. Must be just over the shop. Listen. Oh, it's no use, Mary. I just can't go on. If I print any more fake paper money for Ormond King, I'll never be able to face Prairie City again. But, Dad, you heard what he said. He'll expose you if you don't. I almost wish he would. At least I could resume my rightful name, John Blake, instead of masquerading as Denby. Dad, there must be some way out. Some way. There is, Mary. I'm going to Sheriff Bartlett and make a clean breast of everything. Oh, Dad. That won't be necessary, Blake. At least not yet. A mask man. And an Indian. Don't be alarmed. Tonto and I are your friends. But who are you? Where did you come from? We came from upstairs, Blake. We made our entrance through a window. Then you know who I am. Yes. But it isn't his fault. Ormond King forced Dad to work for him. Please, you've got to believe me. I believe you, Mary. Tonto and I overheard enough to know that you're telling the truth. Was that Ormond King who was here a while ago? Yes. That proves what I suspected in Banker Holmes' office, Tonto. Ormond King is a man I met as James Baird. That's right. King murdered Baird and impersonated him. If it hadn't been for King's initials on the belt the dead man was wearing, we might never have known. Ormond King? A murderer? Yes. King had a neat little scheme lined up to exchange his bogus bills for hard cash at the bank wearing his various disguises. Then as James Baird, he planned to approve his fake bank notes as genuine. King or murderer? Well, that's one time our learned friend pushed his luck too far, huh, Mary? I'm going down to Sheriff Bartlett right now. Is this your wallet? The initials are J.D. Well, yes, that's mine. King borrowed it from me a few days ago. Where did you find it? I found it on the trail beside Baird's body. King must have dropped it. If you accuse him, he'll swear by this wallet that you are Baird's murderer. But what shall we do? Tonto and I'll take care of everything, Mary. I've already arranged for Ormond King to betray himself. Come on, Tonto. But who are you? Wait. Masked man. He's gone. Dad, look. On the table. A silver bullet. Now we're in thunder. Don't you see? Dad, he's the Lone Ranger. I'll sell it. Dusk was falling as the Lone Ranger and Tonto arrived at the deserted Rogers' ranch where they had taken Baird's body. Easy, big fellow. I've got to hurry, Tonto. Ormond King believes Baird is still alive. It'll soon be dark enough for him to feel safe to come here. Oh, that's right. We'd better move this couch into that patch of moonlight near the window, Tonto. Ah. The King will think he sees Baird lying here. Tonto savvy. That's fine, Tonto. Now we've nothing to do but wait for Ormond King to bait his own trap. The moon had risen high in the heavens when suddenly through the window the Lone Ranger and Tonto saw the shadow of a man's head fall across the couch. It's King, Tonto. Ah. And what do we do now? We've got to wait for him to make the first move. That way he'll sign his own confession. Ah. Shh. I thought I settled your number on the trail, Baird. But I must have been mistaken. This time I'll make certain. Turn off that lamp, Tonto. How'd you do it? You. Yes, King. You shot my hand. You came here to shoot Baird, didn't you, King? Why, you... But you're too late. You murdered Baird out on the trail. Beneath these blankets are pillows arranged to look like a man. But in the bank that day you said he was shot. You made me think that he... That's right, King. You twisted my words into believing Baird was still alive. Why, you double-crosser, I'll get you for this. Yes. That'll do for you, King. Oh, Kimasabi, you hit him plenty hard. Now we'll try, my Tonto. Tomorrow we'll deliver him to Sheriff Bartlett for the hangman's noose. Mass man, you saved Prairie City a lot of grief by capturing that counterfeiter. If enough of them phony notes he has had gotten around, heaven knows what would have happened. Thank you, Banker Holmes, but Tonto deserves equal credit. We're beholden to you both, mass man. And if there's anything I can do to repay the favor, I... You can do one thing, Holmes. See to it that John Blake gets a fair hearing for the part he was compelled to play in King's crooked activities. Thank you, Lone Ranger. Yes, thank you. And you, Tonto, you've both given my father hope for the future. A future in which he and the Chronicle may have a chance to help Prairie City grow. You can count on me to do everything I... Why, he's gone. Yes, he's gone. The story you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.
