fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-yo, silver, the Lone Ranger. Faithful Indian 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 a great horse, Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again. Come on, Silver! Faster, boy! Faster! And high! The steep, snow-tipped mountain peaks of Montana's high border country pierced the sky like inverted icicles. Deep in the valley, the lights of miners' gulch flickered feebly in the wind and rain of an unseasonal thaw. Sheltered by a cave and a mountain slope nearby. Three figures warmed themselves and their horses at a roaring fire. The leader wore the unmistakable black mask and silver-mounted six guns of the Lone Ranger. His companions were the ever-faithful Tonto and a 14-year-old boy, Dan Reed, the lad whose courage and resourcefulness had won the masked man's friendship before fate linked them inseparably by revealing Dan as the Lone Ranger's nephew. Dan, this is the first chance we've had to talk things over. Golly, it sure is cozy here in a cave. You could go back and stay in your grandmother's house for a few days. Oh, no. I'd sooner be here with you. It's pretty lonesome there now that Grandma's gone. I understand. You don't want me to go back, do you? By no means, Dan. Stay with Tonto and me. And as soon as Mr. Martin's taking care of all the details about Granny's property, we're going south, aren't we? Yes, Dan. Oh, Jiminy, I'll be glad to see the planes and big cattle ranches, the Texas Rangers. They are a great bunch of men. I wish I'd known my dad when he was one of them. Yes, Dan, I wish you could have known him. Was he a good ranger? One of the best. My dad, brother of the Lone Ranger. I can't believe it. Your father meant a lot to me. He was more than an older brother. Taught me to ride, use a gun. Tell me more about him. Well, your father had a lot of friends in the southwest. He was welcomed everywhere he went. When we got down to Texas, you'll meet some of his friends. But remember this, Dan. No one must know who I am. I'll remember that. There's one place in particular. A ranch that's owned by Mustang Mag. Mustang Mag. That's a funny name. She's a grand old lady. And, uh, by the way, there's a surprise there. A surprise for you. For me? What is it? I'm not going to tell you till we get there. There's something you'll like. I'll promise that. Kimasabi, you give Dan... Don't tell him, Tato. Oh, him got plenty surprise coming. Wait, I hear something. A horse and coming this way fast. Did you see that? No lightning flash? A pearl on horse and ride plenty fast. He must be in trouble to ride so fast in such a storm. Gosh, what do we do? Throw water on the fire, Dan. Tal and I'll saddle up. Here, Silver. You bet. Hurry, Tato. No, he went fast. Steady. Steady there, Silver. Got to go out again. Fire's out now. Come here, boy. Easy, big fella. All right, Dan, Tato. Let's ride. Get up there, boy. Get up. Get him up. Come on, Silver. Maneuvering her mount with an expertness born of long acquaintance through the morass of boulders and miners' diggings in the basin, Molly Thatcher urged her hard-ridden horse down the muddy main street of Miner's Gulch and reined him in before the sheriff's house. And she ran up the steps. Sheriff Holmes. Oh, why doesn't he come? Sheriff. Who is it? It's me, Molly. It's Molly Thatcher, Mrs. Holmes. I've got to see the sheriff. Molly Thatcher. Lance, sakes, child. What are you doing traipsing around on a night like this? Mrs. Holmes, I... Don't stand there, Molly. You'll take cold. Come on in. Here, let me take those wet things of yours to dry. Mrs. Holmes, my father's in trouble. I want to see the sheriff. Trouble? What kind of trouble? I don't know. He won't tell me. But I'm sure there's something wrong because he's behaving so strangely. He... He asked me to spend the night with the Kimberleys, the ranch down the valley from ours. Why? Just before I left, I saw him buckle on his gun belt. He acted like he expected someone. Don't know who's crazy enough to go visiting on a night like this. Mrs. Holmes, I... I'm afraid. Dad may be expecting outlaws or... or someone to settle a quarrel. Oh, sure. It ain't likely, child. Or he'd have asked for help before this. You don't know, Dad. He's proud. He'd never ask for help if he thought he could handle his enemies himself. I must see the sheriff. Well, Molly, the sheriff ain't here. Not here. Nope. He went to the county seat to pick up that outlaw he's been hunting for. The critter was captured and... When will he be back? Not before morning, I reckon. Not before morning? What'll I do? Why don't you go home to your pa, Molly? Then tomorrow... I don't understand. Dad's in danger. I'm sure of it. Something may have already happened to him. No, don't take on so, child. Your pa will be all right. He can take care of himself. The deputy can help me. Where's Len Foster? Then went with the sheriff. Isn't there anyone I can turn to? Mrs. Holmes, I've got to have help. Dad's all alone at the ranch. If anything happened to him, I... Not there, Molly. You come with me. I'll get some of the men in this town to go with you. Drat that wind. I could have sworn I closed that window. Up from the hollow and the fast, dimming lights of miner's gulch thundered the powerful hoops of the great horse, Silver. Close on his heels came the flying feet of Scout, and gamely keeping pace, the horse which Dan sat astride. Come on, Silver. We're heading for the Thatcher Ranch, Tuttle. Get enough, Scout. Careful ahead. Blue shale. Ah, he wants it. That's the ranch at the top of this ride. Ah, he see lights. What's that? What, Dan? When a lightning flashed, I saw something. It looked like a horseman riding away from the ranch. That house ahead now. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Pitching their horses under a shed to shield them from the wind and the stinging rain, the masked man, Tonto and Dan crept to a window of the ranch house and looked in. At first, there was no sign of life in the big, brightly lighted house. Then, slouched in a chair, they saw a man. It's Thatcher. Come on. Thatcher, open the door. Thatcher. That's strange. We've certainly knocked loudly enough for him to hear. Ah, we knocked plenty hard. Make noise over storm. Maybe if I were to... Now, wait. The door's unlocked. Come on. Thatcher's still in his chair. Yes. He's been shot. Ah, that's right. Dan, bring that lamp closer. Is he dead? Yes. The bullet entered his temple. Well, it looks as if Thatcher shot himself. Why would he do that? I don't know, Dan. This powder burn proves the gun was fired at close range. Oh, I see. Thatcher could have dropped the gun here beside the chair. Golly. Must have had an awful good reason to shoot himself. Can you find something, Kimo Sabe? What is it, Tonto? Here. This note on table. What? It's a suicide note. What'd it say? It's addressed to Molly. It's a confession that her father took his own life. Here's another paper. Yes, an unfinished letter. The handwriting matches that of the note. That's right. Everything seems to point to the fact that Thatcher killed himself. Yet I... Let's have a look at that gun, Kimo Sabe. Ah, you take it. Thatcher's initials are on the gun. What's this? Empty shell. But wait. That's strange. This gun hasn't been fired since it was cleaned. Why are you... One minute, Tonto. What'd you see? Look. Before I pressed the trigger, the hammer mark on this shell was dead center. That's right. The second hammer mark is off center. Me savvy. You mean... The death bullet was fired by another gun. Gosh. Then Thatcher didn't kill himself after all. He was murdered. Ah. Murder make it look like suicide. Come on. We've work to do. Wait. I want to show you something. Dad? Are you all right? Dad? A masked man. And an engine. Dad, what's happened? Who are... Oh! What's the matter, Molly? Dad, he's been shot. Shot? Ice those hands, you three. Ah, you watch the redskin and the kid, Leif. I'll keep an eye on this mask, hombre. No tricks or we'll blast you full of holes. The boys and me have got itching trigger fingers. You're making a mistake. You made the mistake, mister. You and the engine and the kid. Yeah. And we aim to see that you stretch a rope for it. What's that you're holding? The shell of the bullet that killed Thatcher. Together with his pistol, it'll convict the murderer. Thatcher's pistol? So you shot him with his own gun? You low-down coyote hanging is too good for you. Maybe this ain't no case for the sheriff after all. Wait. Why should I want to murder Thatcher? I don't know, but you're certain... I'll tell you why. Because you wanted this map. Because you needed it to get your fingers on the gold. You thought Dad had it, but he gave it to me. So you... you killed him. Well, what are we waiting for? Let's lynch this masked coyote right now. Thanks for the winter, Dan. I will. No, you don't, kid. Don't touch that boy. Leave me. Come on, Tonto. Let me come. Hurry, I'll cover you. Look out. He's heaving a chair. I'm through. They're getting away. Drill him. Shoot him. Blast him. They're riding off all three of them. The Lone Ranger, Tonto, and Dan halted their mounts in a clump of evergreen trees just off the brightly moonlit streets of Miner's Gulch. The Lone Ranger's instructions were crisp and brief. Find Thatcher's murderer. And in the quiet night, a relentless manhunt began, with a masked man, an Indian, and a boy separately stalking the streets in the role of the hunter. There was some time later when Dan suddenly drew up his horse and scanned excitedly some imprints in the muddy walk before a cafe. Then he gave the signal agreed upon. Did he, boy? Gee, I hope they hear it. I'm trying to give the signal just as Tonto taught me. I'll try it again. I suppose they don't come. Maybe I better go. That was an answer. There's another one. They're both coming. Full Lone Ranger and Tonto. I'm sure glad to see you. I wasn't sure you'd recognize my signal. You give plenty good signal. What did you find, Dan? These tracks. See? The man who made them dismounted from his horse here and went into the cafe. Easy, Silver. That's strange. Well, while you and Tonto were examining Thatcher's gun at the ranch, I saw a lot of round, wet imprints on the floor. Yes, I saw them myself. I wanted to show you to him when you were interrupted by the men from town. Go on, Dan. Well, I couldn't make head nor tail of them, but I noticed that they were about twice the length of a man's stride apart. I see. And here they are again, the same tracks, but with a man's footprint walking beside them. And me, not savvy. You're sure they're the same tracks, Dan? You bet. A man could avoid leaving wet tracks at the ranch with his shoe, but not so easily with his pegged leg. You mean? That Thatcher's murderer has a wooden leg, and he's in that cafe. 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. Hitching their horses nearby, the masked man, Tonto, and Dan crept stealthily to the front window of the cafe and quickly scanned its occupants. The cafe's not very crowded. Hmm. Business plenty bad. I don't see the man we're looking for. Him maybe going back room. We'll soon find out. Come along. One of them's wearing a wooden leg. That's right. His clothes are wet, too. This coat and hat hanging on that peg. They're soaked through. Ah. You're not long out of storm. There's a pain broken in that window. Let's move closer and see what we can learn. Careful now. Peg-leg, you ain't got the brains of a hoot-owl. I warned you before. Lay off me, Cobb. I gave you a clean-cut job of blackmail. You couldn't miss, but you did. You bungled it and put both our necks in the noose and the bargain. I tell you, Thatcher tried to pull a gun. It was him or me. Maybe it'd have been better if it had been you. What do you mean? I don't aim to hang for your hog while shooting. You've got nothing to worry about. I framed it to look like suicide. Suicide? I don't savvy. Maybe you want me to paint you a picture. Yeah. Start from scratch. Why don't you ride up to the ranch? Nine o'clock, the time we set. I could see Thatcher waiting for me in the parlor. He's wearing a gun belt. Who is it? It's me, Thatcher. I've got you. I've got you covered, Big Leg. That wind's acting on your nerves, Thatcher. Told you I just wanted to have a friendly tour. I know your tricks, Big Leg. And Cobb's, too. Well, if I didn't mean to keep it friendly, I'd be packing a six-shooter myself, wouldn't I? I saw you weren't wearing any, but... Sure. Ain't no need for six guns between friends. All right. I'll put this iron back in leather. Put one wrong move and I'll pump lead. You've got nothing to fear for me if you stick to your end of the bargain. Bargain? I made no bargain with you or Cobb, either. You're getting forgetful, Thatcher. You agreed to meet me tonight and tell me where to find the gold. I'm listening. I agreed to meet you, but not to talk about gold. You'd like me to think there ain't no such thing on your ranch, wouldn't you? Well, Cobb and me happen to know one of the Blackfeet tribes buried gold here before you bought the place. And you know where to find it. Supposing they did? You've got no claim to it. Oh, I reckon I ain't, legally. But you're a generous man. Wouldn't surprise me if you made me and Cobb a present of the old find. What do you mean? You ain't forgetting you're wanted by the law for cattle rustling, are you? Cattle rustling? That was 17 years ago. Don't make no difference to the law how long ago it was. They're still aiming to get you if they can. But I was just a kid. Yeah, I remember. The Montana kid you was called. You ought to remember. You and Cobb got me to join the gang. Blackmailing comes natural to you. But you overplayed your hand this time. What's to prevent me from exposing you? You can't prove nothing against me. You mean... Yeah. This here's a tin-type picture you had taken when you was young. It's marked with your name, Thatcher. What of it? The sheriff would be plumb pleased to see this. It's a mighty good likeness of the picture of the Montana kid on that reward circular filed in his office. You don't scare me, pig-like. I wouldn't give you the map to the gold no matter how many tin-types of me you had. Oh, a map, huh? So that's how you locate the gold. I'll offer you fair exchange, Thatcher. The tin-type for the map. The answer is no. That gold belongs to Molly. Now you get out of here... Keep it in leather. I got your drop on you. What? You said you weren't packing a gun. I reckon I clean forgot to look inside my shirt. With your low-down double-dealing... Save it. Just hand over that map. Well, that map's out of your reach. Molly's got it. But I aim to see that she keeps it. What do you mean? I'm going to make a clean breast to the sheriff about my part in the cattle wrestling. And if you and Cobb don't vamoose these parts pronto, I'll talk plenty about you, too. That wouldn't be smart, Thatcher. No? Cobb and me want the map to that gold. And you're just ornery enough to go to the sheriff like you said so he won't have a chance to get it. You're right. But you haven't got the map. Molly has it. There ain't no sense in me bargaining with you for something you haven't got. Now, is there? What are you getting at? Just this. We don't need you anymore, Thatcher. In fact, we'd be better off without you. You mean? Dead men don't talk. Murder? No. Suicide. Your suicide. I'll fix it so the sheriff will never suspect I committed it for you. Molly won't believe it. She will when she sees a suicide note in your handwriting. You won't get away with it. Chances look more promising every minute. Somebody will know. You'll be fine. All that remains is a shooting. And I'm signing your suicide with a bullet from your own gun. You murdering polecat. I'll give you a taste of your own medicine before... Will you believe me when I say you haven't got a thing to worry about? Reckon you did fix it. Plenty slick at that. Sure. Ain't a thing to pin the killing on us. But we still haven't got what we're after. You mean... A map. Without it, we'll never find the gold. We'll get that map, don't worry. Taking it from the girl ought to be a cinch. I don't know. She's anything like an old man. Hey, first time I ever saw you scared of a petticoat job. I ain't scared. I'm just careful. What do you suppose she keeps the map? Well, from the way Thatcher talked, I figure she keeps it with her. We'll mosey out to the ranch tomorrow night for a look-see. Once we get our hands on that map, the rest will be gravy. Reckon it'll be the easiest gold strike ever made in these parts. Just sink a pick and shovel into the ground and start hauling up yellow dust. Ha, ha, ha! Early the next day, the Lone Ranger sent Dan with a message to Molly at the Thatcher Ranch while the masked man and Tonto urged their powerful white stallion and sturdy paint along the trail toward town. Sheriff Holmes sat behind his desk in the jailhouse, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. Before him lay Thatcher's pistol and an empty shell. Suddenly, a shadow fell across the desk. Masked! Believe you're looking for me, Sheriff. You're doggone right I am. You and that... You look for me, too. The Redskin. We want to talk to you, Sheriff. Put up your... I wouldn't advise that. You beat me to the draw, eh? Leif Collins was telling me how you plugged the gun out of his hand last night. Leif made the same mistake you're making. Huh? Tonto and I are here to help you capture the killers. That's easy. Just give yourselves up. Sheriff, what do you make of the two hammer marks on the empty shell on your desk? Doggone it, I can't make head nor tail of them. This here off-center one seems to have been made by Thatcher's pistol. But the other marks... It was made by the murderer's gun. What's that? All right. You listen. You hear plenty. Doggone it, I don't savvy this. I can tell you who killed Thatcher. Huh? But you'll need proof to convict him. You've got mighty funny ways for an outlaw, mister. Listen to me, Sheriff. The same men who are responsible for Thatcher's death plan to rob Molly tonight. Rob Molly? We work together, we can trap them. Ah, and you make them prisoner. Doggone it if I know what to make of you two. But you talk mighty straight lingo. Let's hear what you have to say. I'm listening. Late that night, two figures hitched their horses quietly near the corral of the Thatcher ranch and crept stealthily in the shadows toward the house. Bending low, they ran softly across a patch of moonlight, then stood tensely listening. But no awareness of their presence evinced itself in the darkened house. Then on the wooden porch sounded soft footballs and the faint but unmistakable thump of a wooden leg. Door's unlocked, Cobb. Just like it was before. Come on. Take your time, Peg Legg. Girl's likely sleeping. Easy with that phony leg, you fool. It's enough to wake the dead. Ah, you skittish is a maverick, Cobb. Never mind that. What if I was going to have to go upstairs and fix that? I'll go. Oh, you could get within ten feet of it with that hickory. It's so plastered dark in here, I can't even see the stairs. Me either. Maybe we better make a light first. Oh, no, it'll be all right. Soon as our eyes get used to it. Hey, what? What happened? You tripped me, you clumsy coyote. I tripped you? You're out of your head. I wasn't even near you. Don't give me that lip. You're tangled with my game leg and pushed me over. Ah, you're loco. I tell you... I'll button your mouth and help me up. What? I thought I saw something rustle past me in the dark. Looks like it might have been a man. You got the willies bad, Cobb. I saw something. I tell you... Shut up and hand me my gun. It's on the floor. Now, hide Taylor for them stairs and get that map. I'll get it. Stand where you are. What the... It's a girl. She must have been standing there listening in the dark. Where is she? I can't see her. I'll light a lamp for you. Well, that's all I need to plug you. Where's this gun? It misfired. I'll get it. Oh, you won't come. I'll take that gun. You said it, Mr. Bullet, first. Look out. It's all yours. What the... Misfired again. You've given the sheriff enough evidence to hang you, Peg Leg. Huh? Take his gun, Dan. You bet. Sheriff, here's your murderer. He's lying, Sheriff. You promised me proof, stranger. You'll find all the proof you need in that gun. It's a frame-up. You've got no evidence against me. You made one slip when you murdered Thatcher, Peg Leg. What do you mean? You substituted your empty shell in his gun. I don't say any. I do. And that little slip will put your neck in a noose. Let me see that gun, son. Here you are. You mean... I mean the hammer marks on these empty shells in your pistol are dead center. Same as that on the bullet that killed Thatcher. Empty shells? How are they getting that iron? The masked man changed them for the real thing when he upset you in the dark. Why? Where he's gone? Huh? What doggone it, I haven't even found out who he is. I know who he is. Dan told me. Well, jump in Jupiter. Don't stand there like a statue, Molly. Who is he? He's the Lone Ranger. The Lone... Well, what do you know? At the beginning of tonight's story, we learned that the Lone Ranger has a surprise for Dan at Mustang Mags. What is this surprise? Be sure to follow the new adventures of the Lone Ranger and watch the development of the masked man's only living relative. There are surprises ahead for young Dan Reed. The story you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated. The story you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.
