Away! Fiery horse for the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-yo, Silver! The Lone Ranger! 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! There's trouble on the trail ahead! Hi-yo, Silver! It was a sight to chill the blood. In the center of a gradually closing circle of hard-riding, whooping savages stood a ranch house, its windows spitting lead in brave, if useless, defiance. White men, surrender! Come and get us, Redskins! Suddenly, fiery arrows shot through the curtain of night and thundered into the ranch house roof. Flames licked hungrily at the wooden structure, and soon it was a blazing inferno. Here, shoot us down! It's a lonely shack! Men and women fought their way through the roaring flames to the door, only to be met by the murderous fire of the Indians. Bullets and arrows spun them in their tracks as the savages leaped to intercept them. Screams mingled with the ears splitting war hoops, then caught in the defenders' throats as death struck them down. Sitting astride a black horse out of harm's way was a hard-faced man. The upper half of one ear was missing, but he wore his hair long to conceal the scar. He watched the scene with cruel amusement, then saw the leader of the savages coming toward him with an exhausted captive. Me bring Carstas. You filthy savage! Thanks, Red Fox. Hello, Mr. Carstas. You! Surprised, huh? You're responsible for this... this murder. Yeah. This and the raids that took care of six of your friends. You fiend! You'll kill now. No. Now, I've got a little job to do first. What do you mean? Two years ago, you and seven more vigilantes rode me out of these parts on a rail. You also left me with half of one ear. To brand you for the sneaking cattle thief, you were. You branded me, all right. You marked me so that I was hounded out of every county I went to. We should have hanged you. You even gave me a new name. Scar. It ain't fitting enough to describe what a low-down scum you... You shut mouth. Hand me that brand and iron red fox. What... What are you gonna do? What does it look like, Carstairs? Leaving behind them the blackened shell of the ranch house... Scar and his Indian renegades vanished swiftly into the night. A short time later, the sheriff and a United States marshal... heading a posse reined in their horses. They looked about them at the charred wreckage... of the once attractive ranch house... and at the innocent victims of the Indians' cruel and unprovoked raid. It was a sight each man would long remember... and secretly swear to revenge. Too late, Sheriff. Yes, Marshal. Too late again. There doesn't look to be a soul left alive. Carson. Take some of the boys and see if any of these people can be cared for. You three men, follow me. Here's Carstairs. He owned the ranch. Dead? Uh-huh. Dead and branded with the same engine sign. Burned on his forehead with a hot iron. I don't understand it, Sheriff. I don't either. But every time I see that sign, I could strangle a redskin with my two hands. In all their rage, the Indians haven't left a single person alive. I've never known them to be so savage. Nobody can tell you ain't been West Long, young fella. Six months? I thought so. Didn't learn nothing about Indians in that highfalutin' eastern school. There's nothing anybody can do for these people, Sheriff. Yeah, have your boys take care of them, Carson. Right. Come on, Sheriff. With a full moon, we should be able to trail the savages. Trailing them is easy. He's catching the critters. He's got us stumped. Maybe this time we'll find a clue to the mysterious way they disappeared. Yeah, maybe. But I ain't counting on it. Get out, horse. Come on, men. On the trail of the renegades rode the posse with the sheriff and the marshal in the lead. In the pale moon glow, the raiders' tracks led across the prairie, then swerved through an arroyo down to Sutter's Gap, a large basin of water with a rocky cliff towering above the opposite bank. Suddenly, they saw two figures kneeling at the water's edge. One was a tall man who wore a white hat and a black mask. The other was an Indian. There's two of the gang. A mask man. And an engine. They're waiting for us. Too late for them to escape. Oh, oh, horse. Oh, there. Put up your hands. Making a mistake, Sheriff. You think we're crooks. Oh, no, I ain't. We caught you in the engine red-handed. How do I aren't outlaws? Oh, that's right. You're worse than outlaws. Savages who murder women and children. Well, hiding behind that mask won't save you. Don't touch that mask. I'll show you. Oh! Blast you. You threw me when I wasn't looking. We gave you no choice. Perhaps I'd better handle this, Sheriff. Yeah? What are you doing here, mister? We'll save time, Marshal, if I ask that question. Why, you're nervous, Kyle. I don't understand. I've heard rumors of the trouble you're having. We may be able to help. Very well. We're trailing a gang of Indian renegades who attacked a ranch. I see. We follow their tracks after every raid. Always to the same spot at the water's edge. Then they disappear. Yes, I've noticed that. We've had the men circle the water and scout the banks for hoofprints. But if the Indians used boats to throw us off, they didn't leave tracks when they landed. What about that cliff on the opposite shore? Well, they couldn't have climbed that. It's too steep. You're wasting time, young fella. Seven ranches have been raided, and you stand here palavering with a masked man and an Indian who are likely members of the gang. Seven, huh? Yes. And at every ranch, the owner was branded with an Indian sign. Branded? That's not like Indian. What's that, Redskin? Indian not brand, Bicton. They don't, eh? Well, they use an old Indian sign. You're darn tootin'. Them savages borrowed that stamp iron somewhere as they used it so there wouldn't be no doubt about who done them killings. If we only knew when and where they planned to attack, we could capture them. I'm capturing two of them right now. Hand over them guns. Now, wait. Keep out of this, young fella. You don't learn about outlaws from books. You can't arrest us without proof, Sheriff. I've got all the proof I need. Honest men don't wear masks and travel with engines. Oh, I see. As soon as the town folk hear about this, you two will be ripe for a lynch knot. And I don't aim to stand in the way. Don't you believe in giving prisoners a trial? Not when they've murdered women and children. Give me those guns. Very well. Oh, my hand! I only shot your pistol out of it, Sheriff. You came up with those guns like lightning. Put down them irons, stranger. You're under arrest. Sorry. I can be of more help outside your jail. Shoot him, boys! You won't move! Me got you covered. Here, Silver. Hump scout. You hear from me, Marshal? Easy, big fella. Hold, Silver. Get him up the couch. Stop him. Shoot at him. Hold your firemen. You young nitwitch. They're outlaws. You and your new notions make me tired. I can't explain, Sheriff, but something about that masked man tells me you're wrong. The next day, the Lone Ranger and Tonto returned to Sutter's Gap and re-examined in the sun the hoof prints left at the water's edge of the night raiders. To conceal his identity in the event of an encounter with the gang, the Lone Ranger had removed his mask and now stood cleverly disguised by a mixture of secret herbs. Suddenly, Tonto gave an exclamation. What is it, Tonto? You look. Them tracks not left by Indian pony. You're right, Kemosabe. One of those horses has been shot. Ah. And Indians, not shoe horses. No. Must have been ridden by a white man. Ah. Him maybe leader, huh? That would explain why their victims were branded. Ah. Indian not branded. Tonto, there's more than robbery behind these attacks. That's right. And the key to the mystery is somewhere in this gap. Ah. Gang make getaway here. We only knew what became of the raiders after they stopped here at the water's edge. And not land on other bank. Oh, the cliff is too steep. The posse has scattered every inch of the water's edge. There isn't a sign of the raiders. Ah. Seemed to have vanished without a trace. Maybe water no secret, huh? There's one way to find out. Why you take off gun belt? Going underwater, Tonto. Here. Hold my boots. And my shirt. I'll wait here with the horses. Swimming strongly underwater, the lone ranger searched for a clue to the mystery of the night raider's escape. Suddenly, as his powerful strokes carried him near the rocky cliff on the opposite shore, he saw an opening slightly below the water's level and swam toward it. It was a cave inside the mountain cliff. A secret rendezvous whose entrance was a short underwater swim through a tunnel. As he came to the surface, he heard voices and realized he had located the gang's hideout. What are you braids beefing about now, Red Fox? They'll say you double-cross him, Scar. What do you mean? Not get cash at Carstairs Ranch. That ain't my fault. Some of your bucks set fire to the house before you found out where Carstairs kept his savings. White men fight hard. Not give Indian chance raid house. That ain't my funeral. Indian want plenty cash next time. Or not make raid. Tell him they'll get plenty cash. That good. When we go? Tonight. Hmm. Where we make raid. You'll know that when the time comes. You'll not trust Red Fox? I don't trust that tongue of yours. Little fire water would loosen it up. Next thing I'd know, them ranchers would set a trap and the sheriff would put a noose around my neck. Well, I'll not know about you. Well, I ain't taking any chances. What do you do with map? Keeping a record of the raids. Tonight's surprise party will wipe the slate clean. What do you mean? I mean every one of them eight vigilantes who branded me and rode me out of this county will have paid in full. You get plenty revenge. Yeah. Revenge with a hot iron and a death bullet. That plenty smart. I wrote my signature on them hombres with a sign nobody will forget. That's right. What was that? Sounded near the tunnel. Me take tomahawk. Came from over here. I'm not Indian. Get him, Red Fox. Hey, get me. No, you don't. In the cave inside the mountain ship that served Scar and his Indian renegades as a hideout, the lone ranger, unarmed, fought with his fists to defend himself against Red Fox's murderous attack. Back and forth in the narrow confines of the cave struggle the masked man and the Indian. Their breath quickened and the muscles in their arms and legs tautened as they exerted all their strength to win. The redskins' eyes flashed with momentary triumph as he lifted his tomahawk for the kill. Then beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as the lone ranger slowly but surely bent back the arm which held the hatchet. You bell-faced spy be killed. He in arm, Red Fox. Stop that tomahawk. You not bend arm. Drop it. I'll get it, Red Fox. He'll get you for that. Here's one for you. I'll show you. There. Crack in the skull with your tomahawk fixed him. You fight like wildcat. There's no fight left in him now. We kill him. No, not yet. First we'll find out how much he knows and how he found this place. If he found it, someone else might do the same. Tell your braves to tie him up, Red Fox. When we get back, we'll make sure he'll never tell the secret of Setter's Gap. 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. To our story. It was some time later when the lone ranger regained consciousness from the savage blow scarred struck him with a tomahawk. His head reeled and he moved to probe the wound, only to discover that his hands and feet were tightly bound. Back in the cave, he heard the voices of the renegades. Then a new sound arrested his attention. It seemed to be a signal. The lone ranger quickly replied. A moment later, a shadow glided up to him in the half light. It was Tonto, dripping wet from his swim. I was sure you'd come, Kimo Sabe. You've got a bad wound on the head. I'll be all right. Loosen the raw height around my wrists and ankles. You'll not want it cut? No, I'll just loosen them so I can get my hand out. I want the gang to think I'm still tied. If I escape, they'll change their plans. We'll lose a chance to capture them all at once. Me, Sabe. The gang plans to attack again tonight. We've got to warn their victim. Who? I don't know yet, but I think we can find out. There. All right, Lucy. Thanks, Kimo Sabe. How we find out who gang attacked? The leader of the renegade said he was keeping a record of the raids on a map. Map? Yes. Map there on ledge. Me see it when me signal you. Get it. Ah, me get it. Now, here. Your pencil, too. Look. He's written the names of the ranchers he's killed. Marked a cross where their homes are located. Why him do that? It's his record of revenge, Tonto. Oh. Somewhere on this map is the home of tonight's victim. The first was Josh Hunter, indicated here. Then Cole Aiken. Todd Porter was the third. I wonder. What you see? The order of the gang's victims. They seem to follow a pattern. Here, I'll trace it with this pencil. Oh, Kimo Sabe. That Indian sign. Yes. But with the last leg missing. You think that... There are seven here, Tonto. That missing leg leads to the next victim. Look. Here, I'll draw it in. That lead to Red Rock. Yes. There's only one ranch in that vicinity. Tom Henshaw's. That's right. He must be warned. Me right there? No, Tonto. I'll go there myself as soon as the gang leaves. I'll wear silver. Me hide them near old Beaver Dam and wood. You know place. Yes, Tonto. What me do? First ride it to Marshal Kimo Sabe. Tell him to hurry with a posse to Henshaw's ranch. Ah. Then buy as much blasting powder a scout can carry. What me do with powder? Listen carefully. I have a plan. That night, a full moon bathed the low-lying white houses of the Henshaw ranch in a pale, ghostly glow. Tom Henshaw entered the living room of his ranch and sank heavily into a chair. His wife, Amy, eyed him anxiously, then went to him. You look tired, Tom. I am tired, Amy. What's the matter? Some more of my hands gave notice today. You mean they just up and left? Yeah, that's right. That makes six men I'm short this week. But why, Tom? Well, Amy, they've been restless ever since them raids commenced. Knowing all them ranch owners were friends of mine, oh, they kind of figured that... You don't mean they thought the Indians had come here next. Reckon that's about the size of it, Amy. They raided Lem Costair's place last night. Oh, poor Martha. It was horrible. Don't think about it, Amy. There's no reason for them redskins to come here. But, but suppose they do. Then we'll fight them. Fight them to the last man. But we've only a few men left to fight now, Tom. You're right, Amy. I reckon I better take you into town to stay with your sister. No, sir. If there's going to be danger, you're not facing it alone. But, Amy, it's the... It's our home, Tom. I reckon that gives me as much right to fight for it as it gives you. Boss! Boss! Coming! What's up, Dewey? We caught this mask armory down by the bunkhouse. An outlaw. Oh, Tom. Oh, you're wrong. It's the same armory as the sheriff described got away from him last night. A white hat, mask, and a brace of silver-mounted guns. I came here to warn you. Came? Looks more like he was fetched. Engines are writing to attack your ranch. What? No. It's a trick, boss. Listen, does that sound like a trick? Engines. Now call your men. Defend yourselves from here. Yeah, but how can we fight? Use fire arrows. Fill every barrel and bucket with water to put out the flames. Station men near the roof. Yeah, that's the idea. Above all, hold out. Help is on the way. Wait a minute. I have work to do. Steady, big fellow. Come on, silver. Idiots coming this way. Get the water ready, Dewey. Right. I'll help. Get behind them windows, boys. Hold your fire till I give the order. Hank, lefty, climb up there near the roof. Dewey will pass the water up to you. Heeding the masked man's warning, Tom Henshaw quickly made plans for the defense of his ranch. As his men hurried to battle the Indians whose terrifying war hoops could be heard approaching closer and closer, his wife, Amy, quickly went to help fill barrels and buckets with water to extinguish fire arrows which might thud into the roof of the walls. How close are they now, Tom? Down near the corral. Well, give me a gun, too. No, Amy, you get behind that wall. Then I'll load your guns as fast as they're emptied. Now the savages were almost upon them. They circled the corral with shrill whoops and wild yells, then rode toward the ranch house, brandishing rifles and bows and lances. To the defenders, their gleaming painted bodies, daubed with savage war symbols, seemed to writhe in anticipation of the death and destruction they meant to wreak upon the ranch. Suddenly, the Indians arranged their ponies in a broken line and encircled the ranch house, bending low over their ponies' backs, even shooting from beneath their ponies' bellies. Slowly but surely, the circle began to close, hemming the defenders in with a gradually tightening noose of death. Here they come! Amy, I'm saving one bullet for you, just in case. I understand, Tom. Them savages get me first. Grab this gun for yourself. They're almost on us! All right, men! Let them have it! Gravely, the little group stood their ground against the savage onslaught, but as fast as one painted, whooping Indian was shot down, another seemed to leap into his place. Flaming arrows shot through the air like fiery crescents, cutting into the ranch house roof, even into the wall of the rooms where the defenders huddled. Flames licked hungrily at the wooden structure, but miraculously were always gulfed with water from the buckets in time. But it was all too obvious that the little group could not hold out much longer against the fast-closing circle of whooping, shooting savages. Then crisp and clear on the cool night air came shouts and gunshots. It's the sheriff's posse! The masked man said help was coming! Oh, look at him ride! Woo-hoo! Heading for Sutter's gas! Oh, Tom! Tom, we're safe! Safe now and for always, Amy! Hey, he won't get away this time! As Scar and his Indian renegades fled before the surprise attack of the posse towards Sutter's Gap, the Lone Ranger and Tonto conferred near the water's edge. You did the job just right, Tonto. He worked a long time. The marshal acted promptly. He should chase the outlaws to their cave any minute. Him got sheriff. Them ride after renegade plenty fast. Good. Our plan mustn't fail, Tonto. It means the safety of this entire county. I have not failed. Good. It's the outlaws, Tonto. Uh-uh. Them in plenty big hurry. The posse can't be far behind. Come on, we must let them see us. From their concealment close by, the masked man and his Indian friend watched the night raiders cleverly execute the escape which had so baffled their pursuers. Then the posse rode up. Oh, my! They've gone, Sheriff. Disappeared. Of course they have, Marshal. What'd you expect after listening to that crazy notion the engine brought you from the masked man? All right, Tonto. Leaping catfish. What was that? Steady, Silver. Steady. Blasting powder, Marshal. You! The explosion blasted the dam between this water gap and dry gulch. I don't understand. Look at the water. Well, I'll be... It's going down. Where's it going? Blowing into the gulch. You won't squeeze out of this, stranger. I saw you do it with my own eyes. You'll see the reason for it in a moment, Sheriff. What do you mean? You want to capture the raiders, don't you? You bet we do. Keep your eyes so the water is ebbing away from the bottom of that cliff. Huh? You'll see a tunnel that leads to the Indians' hideout. A tunnel? You ain't pulling the wool over my eyes. I don't see a blamed thing. The top of the tunnel is beginning to show above the surface of the water now. I see it. Doggone if it ain't. That's the secret of the outlaw's escape. But how could they use the tunnel when it was underwater? It goes underwater only for a few feet. Then it rises into a cave. The raiders simply had their horses swim across the gap, then through the tunnel and up into the cave. Glory be. The tunnel shows clear now. And the outlaws are in that cave. Come on, Silver. Get them up, Scound. Come on, men. Come on. Straight across the now shallow basin thundered the posse's charge with the lone ranger and Tonto in the lead. Near the entrance to the cave, they were met with gunfire. Then they grappled with the Indians in fierce hand-to-hand encounters. All right, Fox. Come on. You're murdering redskins. Shoot women and children, will you? Take Red Fox, Tonto. Ah, me get him. I want you, Scar. Put down that gun. Come on, your life. I warned you. No, you wing me. Tell your gang to surrender. Try and make me. Oh, very well. Let go, let go. I'll kill them. Right now. Red Fox, tell your brains to throw in. Take their guns, men. Here's the leader, Marshal. A white man. You yellow murdering coyote. So you came back for revenge, huh? Don't hit me, Sheriff. Don't hit me. I wouldn't soil my hands with you. But I'll see you swinging a hang noose for your crimes. Well, we finally caught them, Sheriff. I reckon I owe you an apology, Marshal. Maybe them school books of yours didn't teach you much about Indians. But you sure can fight them. The masked man showed us both how. That's another mistake I'm apologizing for. Taking him for an outlaw. Stranger, I... Why, he's gone. Yes, he never waits for things. Huh? He's a Lone Ranger. I'll see you soon. The thing you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.
