A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty, I owe 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! Let's go, big fella! In the middle of a rolling plain of lush green prairie grass, Rocky Patch was an ugly clump of scrub-thatched boulders. But to the Indian, who urged his sturdy paint up the steep and narrow trail to the top, was soon revealed a shallow basin of the same rich soil as the plain below, this time, ridged into neat rows of waving grain. Tonto's eyes, searching the basin for a sign of the farmer, suddenly saw a man lying on the ground under the blazing sun, his arms and legs tied, his head twisted and limp against the blue-green grass. Get him up, scum! Oh, scum! Ho, ho, ho! He's not dead. Now you free. Yeah. Here, you drink water. Or you get bad blow on head. Now you rest. Me fix wound now. What? What happened? My arm and legs, I can hardly move. Ah, them plenty stiff. Somebody tie you. Oh, yes. I remember now. Oh, my... Now, now. Now, you drink this. And you feel better by and by. Oh, thanks, Ingen. If you hadn't come, I'd have been a goner. What's your name? Me, Tonto. Uh, who you? Wood Saunders. I own this farm. That is, I soon will, unless Tom Hunt and his waddy has run me off it. Uh, him fellow who tie you? He's boss of the Barrex Ranch. Spread runs all around the foot of Rocky Patch. Oh, yeah. Me see it. I've sweated for more than six months to make a home up here. I've cleared the land for crops and built a cabin and barn with just my own hands. But that don't make any difference to Tom Hunt. He hates homesteaders. Today, he came to see me. And I'm telling you straight. Clear out. I don't want nesters on my land. Technically, I reckon Rocky Patch is your land, Mr. Hunt. But it's too steep for your steers to climb and graze and you never paid no attention to it before I filed my claim. That ain't here nor there. You're a farmer. And I'd rather be hog-tied than see your kind within miles of my ranch. I'll give you your answer now. It's no. What? I like Rocky Patch. In two weeks, my claim will be proved. This is my home and I mean to keep it. Why, you young whippersnapper. I'll have my worries when you're out of here so fast it'll make your head swim. Now, Dad, you know what the doctor said about your blood pressure. Nancy! What in thunder are you doing up here? What's the trouble? Won't Whit follow orders? You mean to say you know this this land-grabbing maverick? Your daughter's been here before. Whit and I are old friends now, Dad. Blast it, Nancy. I won't have you palavering with a nester. Your range boss has been here, too. I'll thank you to order Monk Myers to stay free on my farm. Order my... Why, you young buckaroo, I don't... Why won't you let Whit stay? It's not really... Keep on listening, Nancy. You've got no business up here with this ornery coyote anyway. I think you've said all you came to say, Mr. Hunt. Whit, wait. You're darn tootin' I have and I'm sayin' it again. Where are moose? If you ain't cleared out inside of a week by juniper, I'll turn the boys loose. And they hate nesters worse than rattlers. Dad, you've got to lose it. You're comin' with me, young lady. If your ma was livin', she'd skin you alive before she'd allow you to mix with the farmer. Get it, boys. Get along, man. Goodbye, Whit. Goodbye, Nancy. Say it while you can, you young squirt. It's your last goodbye. Monk. Keep your hands clean. I got you covered. You want to know I've got no reason to carry a gun up here? Sure. I saw you wasn't wearing a gun belt. I figured maybe you was the knife-throwing kind. Easy. They've got a nervous trigger finger for nesters. What do you want? Well, I've been listening to your talk from behind their boulders. You seem to have a notion that you're... It's more than a notion, Monk. It's a fact. Neither you nor any other Tom Hunt's waddies can stop me. Oh, I'm right sorry to hear that, Whit. You don't frighten me. That's because you haven't got much imagination. If you had, you'd see how easy it'd be for me to drill you without anybody ever knowing. A killer, huh? That's right. When somebody steps between me and what I want... Meaning Nancy Hunt? Yeah. Her and something else. I thought I saw you skulking in back a few of the times you came to see me. You don't have a chance, Monk. I will after you're gone. But I'm staying. There's six bullets in this gun that say different. Oh, I see. It's up to you how you go. Perpendicular or horizontal? They're just as soon drill you. But you'd rather not risk a hang noose if you can help it, huh? Yeah. If I had a gun, you wouldn't have the nerve, Monk. I'll just have to do the best with what there is. You won't fire again. I'm gone yet. Give me that gun. Take it. You honorary coyote. That's too good for you. I'm sending you six feet under. But slow. You'll bake under a blazing sun by day and at night you'll freeze. No food, no water. Just a slow torture and sleep. I was away and then I came to for a minute and so he tied me the way you found me. I guess I must have dropped off again. Ah, him hit you plenty hard. Making it all happen that more than a half hour ago. And you feel better now. Yeah. Thanks to you, what? Look. Ah, smoke. My crops are on fire. They'll all be destroyed. Come, Scouts. You get up and saddle, quick. Get him up, Scouts. Scouts, hold on a hole. Hold on a hole. We're having a chance to stop on that blaze. Ah, grain burned plenty fast. Every bit of my spring planting going up in flames. Cabin on fire. My barn, too, and all my stock is pinned inside. We get him out plenty fast. Man run from house. Him fire. It's Monk, the yellow snake. He sent a match to everything I own. Get him right away. We've got to get the stock out of that barn. They'll be burned alive. Ah, I hear door. He worked plenty fast. Racing into the burning building, Tato and Witsaunders worked crantically to free the stock that was quartered there. Flaming brands hurtled from the roof of the barn to the hay-strewn floor, narrowly missing the Indian and the farmer and setting a dozen new fires. Suddenly, as the last stock was being driven out, they heard an ominous randling overhead and looked up to see the flaming roof about to crash upon them. Look out, Tato. We'll be trapped. Ah, you come. We'll just get the stock clear of the door. The roof does not hold up much longer. Oh, I know it. Come on, he's gone. Animal's out of danger now. Look out, here he comes. Burned out. Six months' worth. The whole farm had gone up in smoke. But it'll take more than this for the Barrex to drive me off. Ah, not good. You'll fight for rights. You bet I will. The next Barrex skunk who shows himself on Rocky Patch is getting a slug. Some time later, the thick smoke from three signal fires billowed toward the sky from the rim of Rocky Patch. It was the traditional sign of the West that help was needed. In scanning the trail toward the nearby town of Bear Ridge, Tonto was confident that the Lone Rager would answer his signal. He did not know that at that moment, Monk Myers was conferring with Cal Judson in the latter's office. Ah, you're a fool, Monk. You had that nester set for a pine box, but you had to do it the hard way. Now he's more alive than before. Well, how'd I know that blasted redskin had come nosy and around? Except for Tom Hunt and Nancy, nobody takes a trail up the Rocky Patch. Who is the Indian? No, no, never saw him before. Fine mess you've made. Now we'll have to do it all over again. Maybe not, Cal. Before I left, the nester's whole farm was a mess of flames. There wasn't a chance to stop in the place. Well, there's nothing to keep with on his claim. It'll take more than a fire to drive him out. I know that young pup. He's proud and full of fight. Reckon you're right. If we don't act fast, somebody else will get wind of the gold buried on Rocky Patch. Maybe even Whit Saunders himself. You're sure there is gold up there, are you, Cal? Of course I'm sure. Got a map that shows the exact location, but it's on the nester's claim, and as long as he's alive, we can't dig for it. The half-breed might have made the story up. I don't invest cash without proof that I'm going to get a sizable chunk more in my investment back. No offense. I just wanted to be sure I wasn't risking my neck for nothing. I wouldn't have told you about the gold if I didn't need you to get rid of Whit Saunders. Tom Hunt has threatened to have the boys run the nester off in a week. Tom Hunt's daughter wraps the old coot around her finger. You know that. If she wants Whit to stay, he'll be there come doomsday. All right. I'll go gunning for him again. When? Tonight. Looks like it's going to be cloudy. It'll give me a chance to sneak into the patch without being seen. Now, this time don't get any fancy notions. Give him a straight taste of lead. Don't worry. I know he'll make the same mistake twice. I'll drill him full of so many holes if he don't pass out from lead poisoning. He'll die a pneumonia. Night was thick on the prairie below Rocky Patch when the Lone Ranger reined in beside Tonto. You come plenty fast. I left as soon as I saw your signal, Tonto. You'll not bring Dan? No. I didn't want to involve him in danger. He'll be all right in town until we return for him. What's wrong, Kimosabe? Plenty wrong in Rocky Patch. Me ride down to Prairie to meet you. Think maybe you'll not find mountain trail in dark. Is the trail far from here? Half mile. We go there plenty quick. There may be trouble later. What kind of trouble? Me tell you while we ride. Get him up, scout! Come on, Silver! As the powerful Silver and the sturdy scout raced across the prairie toward the mountain trail, Tonto revealed the nature of Whit Saunders' trouble to his masked friend. Then they began the short but steep ascent. Set fire to his farm, huh? Him lose everything but livestock. I see. We come to Rocky Patch, that basin head. This trail is treacherous. It's plenty steep and narrow. We go slow. Watch out for loose rocks. Steady, scout. Steady, Silver. Listen. Ah, shots come from top of trail. That horse is running away. Ah, he kept his way. Stop him. Come on, Silver. Get him up, scout. Horse not have rider. He must have thrown her. Ah. Oh, boy. Pull up. Pull, Silver. Pull, pull, pull. Pull, pull, pull. Nancy! Nancy! Tonto, look. Ah, horse throw girl in ledge. She's unconscious. That's right. If she moves an inch when she recovers, she'll fall over the cliff. 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. Whit Saunders stood staring with horror at the still, huddled figure of the girl he loved. Nothing short of a miracle had saved her from instant death. The ledge where her body rested was not more than two feet wide. A narrow shelf which jutted from the scrub-thatched face of Rocky Patch some distance down from the rim. Beyond it was a sheer, breathtaking drop to the prairie. Racing to the top of the trail, the Lone Ranger and Tonto quickly drew reins. Oh, Silver! Oh, boy! Oh, Scouts! Oh, Miller! Hurry, Tonto. Bring your rope. I didn't know it was Nancy. I wouldn't hurt her for anything. Wait, your mask. There's no time for talk. Run both of these ropes through the fork of that scrub. Yes, sir. Fasten the end of your rope to Scout Tonto. Now fasten mine to Silver. Ah, Miss Sabi. You're going down to her? Yes. Let me go. After what I did, I... You'll be needed up here. Hurry with those ropes, man. They're through. I'll arrange this noose around my waist. You take plenty of care. I will. Are the horses ready, Kimo Sabi? Whit, give me that other rope. Here it is. Keep an eye on those ropes. Make sure they don't snag after they go through the scrub. You can count on me. Good. Ready, Tonto? Lower away. Held by the noose and the rope which was on the cliff above him, Silver was slowly lowering by stepping backward. The lone ranger braced his feet against the sheer wall of the cliff. In his hand, he carried the looped end of the second rope. For one breathless moment, it seemed that the lariat would be too short to reach the ledge on which the unconscious girl lay. Then, the masked man's feet touched the narrow shaft. He bent carefully and slipped the second noose under the girl's armpits. The rope tauted and at Tonto's signal, Scout hauled the slim and still figure toward safety while the lone ranger, hoisted by Silver, steered her clear of jagged rocks and scrubs. Take hold of Nancy with. She looks so pale. She isn't hurt bad, is she? Come over and look at her, Tonto. Let me bring water. Beat her face. Maybe me see. What is it, Kimasabe? Bullet grazer. Bullet. But I didn't shoot to kill. I shot high, just to scare whoever it was into hightail and it backed down the trail. How many shots did you fire with? One, though it echoed just like there were two. I see. Oh, she's coming around. Uh-huh. She feel fine by and by. May not find broken bones anymore. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Switch your hands, Westcott. Nancy. Nancy. Nancy. Where? Your daughter will be all right. Uh-huh. No thanks to you. And you, you land grabber, Nestor. You shot her. I couldn't have shot her, Mr. Hunt. You fired at her, didn't you? No, not directly. Story's too thin, young fella. You're coming with me, Whit. The sheriff in Bear Ridge is mighty accommodating. The gents are too free and easy with their shooting irons. When he hears how you took a shot at a defenseless girl, well, he'll likely give you room and board for keeps. You smooth-tongued snake. I'll take my chances with the sheriff against yours any day. Whit. Oh, Nancy. Nancy, are you all right? Yes, I'm all right. Get away from my daughter, you crop-raising coyote. Dad, you can't send me to jail. It's no use arguing, Nancy. I aim to get rid of this and Nestor wants him for all. Get moving, you. I'm taking you into town the way a Nestor ought to be took. On foot. Later that night, a masked man who wore a white hat and six guns hung low trailed Monk Myers from the jail to Cal Judson's office. As he crept closer, the door opened suddenly. Two men came out. The Lone Ranger flattened himself in the shadows of a building as they strode toward a nearby barn. Then he stuffily followed suit. You'll find picks and shovels packed in that toolbox, Monk. Some canvas bags, too, for loading the gold. Oh, everything ready and waiting, huh, Cal? You must have anticipated this trip for some time. I don't leave anything to chance, if that's what you mean. I'll harness the team to the buckboard. Make sure you don't forget the map. Got it in my pocket. Oh, steady there. Oh, now. That was a stroke of luck you're trailing Nancy. Hunt up Rocky Patch tonight. Yeah. She was so anxious to see that Nestor. She liked to bust a saddle girth riding up the path. Steady, boy. Is that what changed your mind from drilling wit to framing him for shooting his girl? What do you mean? I hear you're pretty sweet on Nancy yourself. You hear too much, Cal. Creasing the girl's scalp was mighty close shooting, Monk. Or was it that you aimed for a solid hit and missed? Maybe it did. Maybe I didn't. But either way, wit Saunders stood to be blamed for it. Yeah. The beauty of it is he shot his rifle about the same time you shot yours. The masked man in the engine liked to arrive in time to ruin everything. You know, lucky I heard him coming after the shot and hitting the brush. And after they passed, you hightailed it back down the trail to fetch Tom Hunt from the ranch. So as he'd blame the nester for shooting his daughter and clap him in jail. Yeah, that's it. And wit can't bother us while he's behind bars. We can dig up that yellow dust that's buried on his land and he'll never know the difference. All ready with them tools, Monk? Yeah, yeah. Give me a hand and I'll lift the box into the bucket. All right. Better take that lantern, too. We'll need light to see by when we dig. There. I got it. Well, let's climb up behind that team and get rolling. Well, here's to us, Monk. Here's to us and the golden journey. Get up! Come on! Up! A short time later, the Lone Ranger crept to the window of Tom Hunt's ranch house from the bar X spread and looked in. Sitting in the parlor were Nancy, now recovered from the shock of her recent ordeal, and Tonto, whom she had insisted accompany her despite her father's objections. The masked man rapped softly on the window. You know who I am? Yes, I... Oh. Me tell her. There are a few friends. Where's your father, Nancy? He went upstairs. Good. We can talk without being overheard. Now, uh, how much does Whit Saunders mean to you? I... Well, we talked of getting married, but when Dad found out Whit was homesteading on Rocky Patch, he was so furious... How did he find out? Monk Myers told him. I see. And now Whit's in jail for something. Whit didn't fire the shot for which he's being punished. Why, I know he didn't. He couldn't. You can help prove his innocence. How can I help? Bring paper and pencil, Tonno. Quickly. We haven't much time. Tom Hunt stormed into the sheriff's office. A hastily written note in Nancy's handwriting clenched in his fist. He thrust the note under the startled sheriff's nose. Where is she? Oh, my daughter, you confounded fool. You've married him, I'll... Nancy. Mashed. An engine. Reach for your guns. It's a hole-up. Keep your guns in leather, sheriff. We're not outlaws. Hmm. Got the drop on me. Maybe you're right. They're kidnappers. That's what they are. They kidnapped my daughter. That's not true. I'm here of my own free will. You... You can't mean what you say in this note. You ain't really going to marry Whit Saunders. I certainly am, if you'll have me. Nancy, did I hear you say... You mean... I'm asking you to marry me, Whit. Marry? Oh, gosh, I... Oh, there would have to be cell bars between us at a time like this. Hey, Sunday new daughter of mine is going to marry a Nancy. You'll do nothing, Dad. I'm 21 and there's nothing you can do to stop me. But... But it's in jail. There's no law that says a prisoner can't be married. Is there, Sheriff? Let me see now. Let me see. Nope. I don't know as it's ever been done, but there ain't no law in it. You're tongue-wagging old marsh, aren't you? Yeah. A jailbird for a Sunday law. He doesn't have to be a jailbird, Dad. What do you mean? Well, you had Whit arrested. You can free him. Free that homesteading maverick after he almost murdered you up there on the trail? Why, I... Mark Myers fired that shot, Hunt. Huh? Then he rode to the ranch to bring you. It's true, Dad. I noticed that Monk was following me shortly before the bullet grazed me. That don't prove Monk did it. Free Whit and I'll give you further proof. Turn that land grabbing farmer loose so he can roost in the middle of my ranch. It's better than my marrying a jailbird, Dad. Oh, by, Thunder Nancy, don't give me no choice. Unlock that cell share if you lose judge stove-in bow-legged glute. Two men stood waist-deep in a hole they had dug near the trail atop Rocky Patch, close to the spot where the lone ranger had rescued Nancy. The light of a lantern flickered over the faces of Monk Myers and Cal Judson and glinted from their shovels as they heaved fresh dirt from the pit. Are you sure this is a spot, Cal? That's a spot marked on the map. We've dug deep enough to uncover ten cases of gold. Can't be buried much deep. You struck something. It's the case. Help me scrape the dirt away. Give me that bar. I'll pry open the lid. Here. I told you it was here. Just look at that yellow dust, Monk. Must be worth more than $20,000. Yeah. And it's all ours. You're wrong. What the? It's that mask ready you mentioned. You're trespassing on Whit Saunders' property. This gold belongs to him. Why, you... Don't try it. You won't use that hardware again, you poor cat. You swayed me to run Whit Saunders off Rocky Patch so you could get your ordinary fingers over some gold. If Nancy wasn't here, Monk, I'd break every bone in your body for tying me up and burning my buildings and crops. You can't prove it. Yes, he can. And also that you tried to murder Nancy. That's a lie. You told Tom Hunt you heard the gunfire, Monk. How many shots were fired? By one. The one that wounded the girl. And I remember it was followed by an echo. That's all I want to hear, Monk. You were under arrest. What do you mean, Sheriff? The masked man told me there were two shots fired. One on Whit's and one by you. They were so close together they fooled Whit into thinking that yours was an echo. I don't say... I listened when the masked man shot your gun out of your hand. There weren't nothing following it but dead silence. There ain't no echo here and never was. I'll see you there. Follow me. You have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger, Incorporated. with the Lone Ranger. Have a great day. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You have be on the side. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
