horse for the speed of light, a clod of dust and a hearty, hi-oh, silver, the Lone Ranger. In companion Tonto, the mask 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 hoof beats of the great horse, Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again. Come on, Silver, we're heading for the very city. Come, Silver! Two men crouched over their horses in the sagebrush which bordered a wagon trail. Their hats were pulled low and handkerchiefs disguised the lower half of their faces as they peered intently toward a bend in the road. Suddenly, their hard, narrow eyes lighted with anticipation. As they heard hoof beats and saw an old Indian ride slowly around the bend and along the deep-rutted trail, unaware of the ambush that awaited him. Redskins coming now, Scar. Yeah. Riding slow, too. That'll make him an easy target. Yeah. Did you get a look at that map? No. Well, then what makes you so sure he's got it? Because he boasted about having it when Cass and me gave him that fire water in the cafe. That may be, but I don't... When we try to persuade him to show us the map, he's shut up like a clam. Well, if Cass is satisfied the Redskins got it, it's good enough for him. It ain't good enough for Cass. What do you mean? He wants that map. But he don't pay off till he gets what he wants. He'll get it. Better prime them guns. The engine's getting close. Got him in your gun sights, Whitey? Yeah. Let him have it. Got him. Come on. Get up there, boy. Get up there, boy. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, boy. Keep your guns on him. Yeah, he won't make trouble. Looks like we drilled him for keeps. He hasn't cashed in his chips yet. Just as well. You can make him hand over the map instead of hunting for it. Yeah. You heard him, Redskin. Pull out that map and make it fast. We know you give Indian fire water. Make talk. You wear a scar on hand. Yeah, that marks a giveaway wherever you go, Scar. You ought to wear a glove on that hand. Won't do the Redskin any good to remember it. He's heading for the happy hunting grounds. Hand over the map, you. Me not give you map. Yeah, give me a hand, Whitey. You'll have to search him for it. Map belong, my people. Tell where I find gold. There's what you remarked when you were drinking that liquor. Thanks for the tip, Redskin. Can't find anything in his jacket. Look in his moccasins. Yeah, I will. Hey, here's something. Let me see. Yeah. That's the map. Injun figures. All pointing to Thunder Mountain and the buried city. You'll not take them? Say, he ripped it in the head. Why the... Come on, Silver. The masked man riding this way. Yeah, and an engine and a kid behind him. Come on, hit for the horses. The map. We got to get the other half. That ain't time. That masked hombre's coming like the wind. Hi, David. Oh, boy, who? Oh, Scott. Easy. I'm afraid we're too late. He's still breathing? Yeah, I'll give him some of this water. Oh, wait, Dan. He's trying to say something. He's trying to give you a piece of paper. Did you recognize the men who shot you? Yes, Tonto. And this paper. Indian figures. It's a map. Ah, map show buried city of Indians. It's torn. Half of it's gone. This paper says there's gold hidden in the city. Gold? Golly, that must be why the outlaws were after the Indian. They wanted the map. Then not find gold with only half a map. Nor will we. But this half has the place marked where the gold is buried. Right, Dan. But unless it's matched with the other to show the direction in which the treasure lies from Thunder Mountain, the search is hopeless. Isn't that right? Gosh, I didn't think of that. I guess the buried city must be a pretty big place. Yes, it occupies all of a volcano crater. The Indians left it over a hundred years ago. Ah. Them say anger of Thunder God. Drive them out. Thunder God? Who's that? Just an Indian superstition, Dan. Oh. We ride to town now? Yes. As soon as we've taken care of the Indian kimosabe. Then we hunt the outlaws that stole the other half of the map? Yes, Dan. Unless I'm greatly mistaken, then they'll be hunting us. Standing at the window of the back room of a cafe in Sage City, Mark Cass watched grimly as a wagon train was loaded with supplies at the depot across the street. The small beady eyes of the rancher narrowed at the appearance of an old man and his daughter who were in charge of the wagons. Then he turned sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps. About time you hombres got here. Where's the map? Give them what you got, Scott. What's this? This is torn. Where's the rest of it? That's all we got, Cass. The Indian tore the other half of the map out of our hands. I don't savvy. What stopped you from getting it back? A mask man. A mask man? Yeah, he came riding out of nowhere with an Indian and a kid at his heels. They were honest before we could grab the rest of the map. Why, you blundering fools! Couldn't help with balls. There was nothing to do but hightail it. Without that other half, this paper ain't worth them Indian signs on it. We know it. All that's marked is Thunder Mountain. It don't show the gold at all. Yeah, that's the part the Indian grabbed. I reckon the mask man took a fancy to it after we left. Blast him. He's taken a fortune in gold right out of our pockets. Yeah, maybe we ought to round up some of the boys and start trailing that hombre. That ain't all we've got to do. What do you mean, boss? See that wagon train across the street? Yeah. That's an archaeological expedition. It's heading for the buried city. Archaeological expedition? That's what I said. They're planning to dig in them Indian ruins for old relics. The old man there and his daughter. Don't remember seeing them around before. And they just came in by stage a while ago. Name's Whitfield. Dr. Whitfield. They're from the east. Well, what have they got to do with us? Why, you thick-witted maverick. If they start digging in the buried city, they're liable to come across the gold. Yeah. We've got to get there first. With both pieces of the map. That puts it up to you two. Hmm? You've got to stop that expedition from reaching them ruins. And find that mask man. Got any ideas, boss? If I didn't, where would they come from? I've already signed you on with the old man as a wagon guide, Sky. Wagon guide? You mean... I mean you're to see them wagons don't get to where they're aiming to go. What about them Ingers? They've hired as handlers. They all know the way to the buried city. They'll be taken care of when the time comes. What do you got lined up for me? Plenty. You and me are trailing that mask man. First, I've got another job for you. Listen. Across the street, Dr. Whitfield and his pretty daughter Mary watched while the last preparations were made for their trip to the buried city. We're almost ready, Dad. Aren't you thrilled? Yes, Mary. I can honestly say I am thrilled. I've been looking forward to this trip for a long time. If it's successful... Oh, it will be. I know it will. It means too much to you to fail. The expense of outfitting the expedition. These wagon teams. The equipment. The men. I had no idea what cost the society so much. Now, Dad, you promised me you wouldn't worry about that. Besides, you... What is it, dear? I thought I smelled smoke. Smoke? Look out. Blasting powder's on fire. Run for your lives. It's going to explode. What's that? Dad, look. A lighted fuse hanging from the back of one of our wagons. That wagon is stored with explosives, Mary. Blasting powder. Hurry. We've got to get out of here. You run ahead. My leg. I'll come as fast as I can. I'll help you, Dad. We'll make it. No, for my sake, Mary. Run. The fuse. It only has a few feet to burn. Come on. Sylvie. Someone coming. Masked. Master Sylvie. Dad, he's aiming with a gun. Who's the Republic for the foe? Oh! Oh! Oh, God. Mary. Mary, we're safe. That mask man. His bullet snuffed out the fuse. It's him, Cass. The same masked hombre we saw riding us down on the trail. I already told him. Blast him. That's the second time he's spoiled my hand. Yeah, them wagons would have been blown to splinters if he hadn't nipped that fuse. Old Whitfield was standing close enough to get the blast, too. His daughter with him. I saw them both when I planted the fuse in the cake of blasting powder. We'd better put that hombre out of the way pronto and permanent. We will. Meanwhile, you'd better hightail it out there and introduce yourself to Whitfield, Scar. You're his wagon boss, you know. Yeah. And I ain't liable to let him forget it. From now on, them wagons are going to be loaded with trouble. The next day, the oxen-drawn wagons of the archaeological expedition lumbered heavily over the prairie toward the ancient buried city of the Indians. In the lead rode Dr. Whitfield and Mary, and with them, the Lone Ranger and Tonto. Dan Reed, the masked man's 14-year-old nephew, had momentarily dropped behind. I'm so glad you decided to make the trip with us, stranger. We, my daughter and I, owe you a great deal. If it hadn't been for what you did yesterday, we wouldn't be making the trip at all. My friends and I also have business in the buried city. Business? I thought the city was deserted. It is. Your business wouldn't be Dickon, too, would it? In a way. Ah. Have you any enemies in this part of the country, Doctor? Why, no. Why do you ask? Someone seems anxious that you shouldn't complete your expedition. You mean the same someone who attached a lighted fuse to the blasting powder? Yes. I saw someone busy with something at the back of that wagon when I was talking with Dad. But I thought it was one of the regular men. Would you recognize the man if you saw him again? Well, I'm afraid not. You see, I... Oh, oh. Oh, up there, boy. Now, what's your hurry, Dan? I found him. I'm sure of it. Who? One of the outlaws who murdered the Indian. The one he called Scar. Uh-huh. Why do you think that? Well, he carries an ugly scar on his right hand. Who is it, Dan? I don't know his name, but he's the wagon boss. Oh. Wagon boss. Well, his name is Scar. Yes. A rancher named Cass recommended him to Dad as an experienced wagon guide. I see. Now, where is he, Dan? He's riding at the tail end of the train. What's that? Outlaws. Ah. I'm a pack wagon train. We haven't anything they want. Why should they raid us? For the same reason they tried to blow up your supplies, whatever it is. See them to a wagon where they'll be safer, Dan. You bet. Come on, Tonto. We'll form the train into a circle. Come on, Silver. Get him up. Get him up. Oh, Silver. Away. 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. As the Lone Ranger and Tonto rode to form the wagon train or defensive circle, the outlaws threw firebrands at the canvas hoods and drilled bullet holes into the water barrels. Quickly, the masked man of the Indian rallied the bullwhackers and the Redmen who were responsible for the supplies to ward off the attack. Take charge of the Indians, Tonto. Have them beat out the flame before the wagons catch fire. Ah. Coupe, arrow, head those oxen inside the circle. Racing their horses around the circular port of wagons, the outlaws led Bacass and Whitey, riddled the wagon train with a steady stream of lead. But now, marshaled by the Lone Ranger and Tonto, the defenders met them with a murderous fire that forced the renegades to give up the fight. A short time later, Whitey returned and slipped unnoticed into the camp where he joined Scar in the back of one of the wagons. Neither outlaw was aware that his movements were watched by the sharp eyes of Dan, who went close to the wagon to learn more about their secret meeting. Close that canvas flap, Whitey. We don't want anybody looking in. Especially that masked, hombre. That coyote's been trumping our ace too long. It's time we took care of him permanent. Can't be too soon to suit me. But that missing half of the map comes first. We've been letting that gold go big and so long it's liable to fall in the wrong lap. Suppose the masked man turned over his piece of the map to the engine of the kid? Not a chance. That map's a valuable property. What's your plan? The three of them bunk by a fire on the outskirts of camp when the wagons turn in for the night. We'll wait till they're asleep. Yeah, can't hardly tell them apart. They're all wrapped up in blankets. The tall one must be the masked, hombre. Yeah. Reckon their sleep don't seem stern. Got your guns ready? Yeah, and itching to use them. Come on. Remember, no gun playing unless you have to. You don't want the whole camp on our necks. Just give them the butt into your gun. With pleasure. Keep your sight strain on the mother too, the engine on the kid. All right, Whitey. Let him have it. Hey, what the... What's the matter? I don't know yet. Stop yammering and searching for the map. Scar, look. Nothing but a roll of blankets made up to look human. Is this what you're looking for? The masked man. He's got the map. Grab it. Quick. Get him, Whitey. Drop that gun. You better practice with firearms before you play with them. Here's something for you, Scar. That take's tight from outlaws. They won't get another chance to kill. What's happening? We heard a shot. Is anything wrong? Who are these men? They're leaders of the gang who have been making trouble for you. That's a lie. They're trying to frame us. You framed yourselves when you came for this map. Framed yourselves for murder. Murder? What do you mean? An old Indian was killed on the trail. In his hand, he held this torn piece of a map. Only the men who murdered him would value it, because they hold the matching half. You don't scare us, stranger. We don't have no matching half of a map. No. The man who gives you orders does. We don't take orders from anybody, do we, Whitey? Nah. Not even from Cass? How'd you know that? Go to them, Tonto. What do you mean to do with us? Turn you over to the sheriff for murder. The next day, leaving Dan to ride ahead of the wagon train to the buried city, the lone ranger and Tonto escorted their prisoners to the jail in Sage City. Then, the masked man conferred with the sheriff in the latter's office. I don't doubt that Scar and Whitey murdered the injured stranger. They're both bad medicine. But I can't hold them in jail unless I have proof. You'll have proof, Sheriff. Ah. And you'll get it plenty soon. But I can't... Murder isn't all these men are responsible for. They're leaders of a gang who have made two attempts to wreck Dr. Whitfield's wagon train. Ah. You've no proof of that either. You'll soon have all the evidence you need. Just the same, I can't... There's bigger game to be caught than Scar and Whitey. Both the ringleader and the gang are still free. Ah. We make use of prisoners to catch big game. Who is the leader? Mark Cass. Mark Cass? Oh, are you loco? Well, he's a mighty powerful and respected man in these parts. There's one way to prove I'm right. Huh? What's that? The Indian was murdered for a map showing the location of buried gold. Yeah? The map tore in half and the killers made their escape. Now, this is the part the Indian held on to. Now, if Cass has a missing half, it will mean he either planned or helped in the murder. That's right. How do you aim to find out? With this plan. Listen. A few minutes later, the Lone Ranger was careful to attract the attention of the imprisoned outlaws as he rode from the jail to Mark Cass' office a short distance down the street. Then he reined in his powerful white stallion at the hitching rail and mounted the steps. Who is it? I want to talk to you, Cass. You seem to know who I am. Why, not exactly. Just seen you around, that's all. I see. What do you want with me? Close the door. Sure. I'd better keep that gun in leather. I came for a friendly talk. What's your game, mister? The same as yours when you sent Scar and Whitey gunning for me. What do you mean? I want to match this half of the map to the other half. What makes you think I got the other half? You wouldn't be so anxious to get mine if you didn't have it. I... Well, I... I'm not going to take it from you. I, uh, thought we might work together. You mean... My part of the map shows where the gold is located. Your half, if you have it, should show its direction from Thunder Mountain. Partners, huh? What about Scar and Whitey? They won't bother us. Hi, Sammy. I should have pegged you for an outlaw the first time I saw you. Especially after the way you handled your guns. Splitting the gold two ways is better than three any old time. I haven't seen your part of the map yet. I got it right here. It matches. Yeah. We'll start digging for the golden night. Now, wait. What about Whitfield's wagon train? It'll reach the buried city this afternoon. Oh, bless the old coot. Just when we're all set to do some excavating ourselves, we'll have to scare them out. If the Indians ever found out we lifted their yellow dust, our scalps wouldn't be worth a plugged nickel. Oh? I know a way it'll frighten them clean out of the crater. Yes? Indians are full of superstition, see? They vamoose the whole city because they thought some critter of their imaginations called a thunder god was angry with them. Well, I'll give them a thunder god who'll really get mad. Them redskins with Whitfield will hightail it clear back to town. And without them to excavate for them, the old coot will have to come back, too. I see. You're going to play thunder god. That's the ticket. And I'll blow chunks out of Thunder Mountain with blasting powder just to be sure I make myself hurt. As the Lone Ranger and Cass left the latter's office and headed their horses in the direction of Thunder Mountain, Scar saw them from the window of the jail cell where he was on watch. Whitey. Yeah? They're leaving town together. Cass and the masked man. Scar. They're heading for Thunder Mountain. You don't suppose Cass means to skip out on us with that gold? He ain't no fool. It's too easy for us to double-cross him if he crosses us while we're in the who's gal. All we have to do is talk and talk plenty. Maybe so. But what's he doing with the masked man if it don't concern the gold? Ain't to know. They do look kind of chummy all of a sudden. I don't like it, Scar. I got a feeling Cass is selling us out. If he is, it'll be his last sellout. They're almost out of sight. Here's the masked engine's friend. Yeah, what's your part doing with Cass, Redskin? Yeah. Yeah, they look like they're in business together. Ah, them go after gold. What? They're going after the gold. That's right. Each hold half a map. Cass say them divide gold between them. The lowdown polecat. Double-crossing us after all. Cheating us out of our share of the gold after we brought him the map. Well, he ain't getting away with it. I don't aim to swing for murder while Cass goes free. Double-crossing coyote. I'm talking now before he makes a getaway. Sheriff! We'll both talk, Whitey. I've got enough in that polecat to fill a book. Hey, Sheriff! What's going on here? Get paper and pencil. We're signing a confession. High on Thunder Mountain, the Lone Ranger and Cass watched while the latter's gang planted blasting powder at strategic points among the cliffs. Then, standing in the cave so that his voice took on an aspect of the supernatural, Cass prepared to address the archaeological expedition. Meanwhile, the unsuspecting members excavated for ancient relics among the ruins of the Indian city below. Golly, it's hot. You're working too hard, Dan. Yes, my boy. You haven't stopped digging since we started. Rest a while. I would, but I keep wondering what the next spade full of dirt will bring. Gosh, it might be anything. Knives, arrows, pottery. And all of it more than a hundred years old. It's too much fun to stop. Yes, J.D. Dan, what was that? It sounded like blasting powder, but... Hey, Thunder God. What was it? It's coming from the mountain. Thunder God. Not one white man in Indian city. You go. Thunder God, speak truth. Ain't not one white man here. We don't want him either. Oh, golly. The Indians are getting restless. Dan, you don't think they'll turn on us? I don't know. Let men intrude on sacred Indian soil. Make them Thunder God angry. Dan, look. The mountain is exploding. They don't understand. The Indians, they're getting ready to attack us. Hey, look out. As the Indian helpers ran to attack the white employers in the ruined city, the Lone Ranger and the Sheriff's posse surprised the fake Thunder God and his outlaw gang on the mountain. Why won't you, Cass? You trouble-crossing coyotes, you tricked me. You tricked yourself. You won't get out of this alive. Knock that gun. Drop you first. Oh, what are you meant to throw in, Cass? You're surrounded. Sheriff. Tell them. Throw on your guns, boys. They've got us. Sheriff, you'll find the matching half of the map on him. Let me see. It's the map, all right. This fixes you for a hang loose, Cass. You've got no murder proof against me. Scar and Weddy both confessed, and they named you as their boss. Look, the Indians are attacking the Whitfield expedition. You're coming with me, Cass. You heard me. Come on, sit a bit. There are too many of them. If we don't hurry away from here, we might all be killed. I'm afraid Mary's right, Dr. Whitfield. My expedition. We've come all these miles to the ruined city, and now it's... Someone's coming. Come on, Silver. It's the Lone Ranger. Thunder fighting. Oh, Silver. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Indians. Dr. Whitfield is your friend. We have to trespass on Indian city. Make Thunder God angry. No, wait. You've been fooled. This is your Thunder God. It's a lie. It's a truth. Tell them, Cass. Tell them so they'll know. No, no, I... Quick. All right. I'll tell them. I'm the Thunder God. It's in your hands now, Sheriff. Quiet, quiet. Go back to your work. There's nothing wrong. Our law will punish the man who tried to fool you. Come along, Cass. You're going back to town with me. Well, Mary, I guess we'll be able to continue with our expedition after all, thanks to the Lone Ranger. Oh, Silver. You have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger, Incorporated.
