The grateful Indian 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 to the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver, the lone ranger rides again. Come on, Silver! Faster, boy! Faster! I'll sell... It was noon when the stage arrived in Argent City and deposited a stranger in the square. Keen-eyed, though obviously an Easterner, he glanced with interest at the rows of pretentious dance halls and saloons, then rapidly made his way to a dingy building which bore the sign Sheriff's Office. As usual, Sheriff Clem Bender was taking his siesta, his boots off, his feet on a littered desk, his gun belt looped over the back of an easy chair. Sheriff Bender? Yep, that's me, mister. My name's Billings. I'm a private detective engaged by the British government to find one of its subjects. Don't say. No, no, don't close the door, mister. I don't want people to think I have private conflats with strangers. Who'd you want to find? The Right Honorable Herbert George Agnew. Officials in Washington as well as London would like to know why he vanished after being last heard from in Argent City. It's right interesting. But I don't get my votes out of Washington and London. Just when this gent disappeared. Uh, six months ago. Hmm. Yeah, Englishmen, Easterners, all kinds of foreigners come and go. I can't keep track of them. A sheriff, a man like Agnew, wouldn't disappear voluntarily. He's heir to a title and big estate. Oh, rich, eh? Can you offer a reward? I'm authorized to pay $5,000 to anyone who can produce the man alive, and half that amount to anyone furnishing proof of death. Yeah, the printer down the street will strike off a bunch of notices for you. One of my deputies will put them up, if you make it worth his while. Better have the signs printed over my name and then get undercover. What for? Because if this Agnew, Jen, has been dry-gulched and his killers are still around, you may disappear yourself. I don't want your whole detective agency waltzing out here. No, I ain't got trouble enough. Thanks, Sheriff. Have a good snooze. Look at this here notice. Yeah, what's it say, Sam? Reward for a Jasper named Agnew. $5,000 if you find him alive, and $2,500 if you turn him up dead. What'd he do, rob the men? Ah, he's some rich Englishman who strayed off his home range. What's the description? A six-footer. Walked with a little stoop. Heavy black beard. Always wore spectacles. Gold-rimmed ones. The glass in them, shaped like the Hexigan Ranch brand. Good afternoon, boys. Hey. Who's the Easterner coming up, Shorty? I fetched him in on my stage. Dry-goods drummer, I guess. Howdy, Mr. Billings. Hello, Shorty. You have a drink, boys? Yes. This here's Sam, and we don't mind if we do. Well, drinks around, bartender. It's barrel whiskey, gents. Won't have nothing else for the next freight haul from my injunction. Sam and me were just talking about that reward sign. I seen Mr. Billings here fetches it back to my mind that I brought the missing fellow into town from the railroad. Yes, siree. I mind the peculiar specs now. He couldn't see much without him, but he sure could see with him. How's that, Shorty? He rode on the stage box with me. You should have seen that four-eyed gent while we were rolling down the grade. I say, driver, you have a jolly job. Holding back six horses to the stage ain't my idea of fun, mister. Here's where I used the brake. You flushed the hair, driver. Why, the creature's incredibly big. Tally-ho. Tally-ho over. That's just a jackrabbit. He sure is running. Yo-ix. Yo-ix. Ways as large as a fox. If I only had my hounds. Oh, my pistol. Hey, you're going to try to shoot that jackrabbit? Quite so. Quite so. After I load my pistol. I'm pulling up on the range, but you'll never hit him. A cube. You've got him, mister. That's right. Fancy shooting for gent who wears specks. Oh, that? Well, I must admit that my eyes are rather bad without them. But for these glasses, which were especially crowned for me in Vienna, I see quite well. Yeah. And that's how this here Agnew came to town. I never saw him again. Wish I had because I could use a hunk of that reward, kiddie. Couldn't you, Barkeep? Sure could. But I remember the Englishman being around town a day or two. He had a hankering to kill a grizzly and wanted a guide to take him to the mountains. Later on, he fell in with a fellow from his own country. What, another Englishman? Yep. A gambler called Darby Dick. Well, maybe he and Agnew went hunting together. Hey, you ain't much acquainted with gamblers, Mr. Billings. Darby could shoot. In fact, he was plumb deadly with a six-gun. But he never hunted anything but greenhorns to trim. Yeah, you never see an army like that without fancy clothes. Or turning his lily hands to anything but a crooked deal and a card game. Yeah, and he found the pickin' slim around here. Blew town three, four months back. Said he was heading for Frisco. Now, shorty, why don't you and the bartender tell the sheriff what you know about Agnew? Well, you couldn't get that plush-bottom chair rider to stir no matter what you told him. Now, some ever, we figure to move him when he dies. We're gonna set him up in the jail yard in his socks and chair. Giving the town a cheap monument. What became of that reward notice you were looking at? It's gone. I seen a buck engine with it a while back. Why, he's vamoosed. Don't give Sam no more to drink, barkeep. He seen a readin' engine. Next, it'll be a talkin' horse. Ho, scout. Ho, fella, ho. Ho, fella, ho. What did you learn, Toto? Darby Dick, been in town. Leave Trimungo. Tell people him go Frisco. Then he probably went the other way, toward Rifle River, where we lost his trail before. We hunt him long time, Kimosabe. How we tell him when we find him? You not know him. Well, he's a gambler as well as a killer, Kimosabe. While Toto listen for talk about Darby Dick, me find reward signs. Oh? A heap much money. Man not outlaw, only missin'. Here, you read it. This man Agnew was to become a sort of chief in England, Toto. Oh. By the way, when did you say Darby Dick left Argent City? Three Mungo. That's interesting. That's about the same time that this Englishman left there. Ah, about same time, Kimosabe. You take trail for Rifle River, look for Darby Dick there? Maybe later, Toto. Right now, we're riding to Argent City. Oh. There, Silver. Steady, Scout. Steady, fella. Get him out of this town. Come on, Silver. While the Lone Ranger and Toto rode for Argent City, two men talked in a lonely and almost inaccessible cabin some miles on the other side of the town. Hold that match, Quint. Ah, here you are. All that brush on your face and that tan you've worked up, no one would ever think you was Darby Dick. Oh, it's been a terrible sting holed up out here. Music, lights, crowds, dance hall girls, card tables, their life. Here I felt like I was as dead as that pier of England we did in. I never could figure out why you blew town and hid out in this hole. Lord didn't want you. No, but I got word that a certain party was on my trail. Who? The Lone Ranger. He ain't in these parts, is he? I don't know where he is now. I got word that he'd track me as far as Rifle River, my last stop before hitting Argent City. I knew then that I'd have to pull stakes and build a new identity. I've even gotten rid of my English accent by talking to the cactus plants. What I hunted you up for was to find out what you think of the reward they're offering for Agnew. Oh, why worry about it? We planted him where only the devil himself could find him. I'm not so sure. We had help getting rid of the body. You mean Mike Ryan? I thought you trusted him. There's $2,500 in it for the man who can show that Agnew's dead. For that kind of dinero, Mike is apt to make a deal with the sheriff, turn up the body, and get our neck stretched. Then you'd better take care of him. At Sheriff Bender's office, Detective Billings was attempting, without much success, to rouse the interest of the sleepy lawman in the case of the missing Britisher. Guess I overslept, Mike. Where's that lazy deputy of mine? Never around when I need him. But won't you listen? I don't care if an engine did take a reward notice. Don't mean nothing. Maybe a grizzly buried up the Duke, or whatever this Agnew is. I'm hungry as a wolf myself. The stage driver Shorty says... Shorty stretches a long bow. Anyhow, I thought I told you to stay undercover and away from my office. You got trouble ticks biting me, ain't you? Well, your citizens certainly don't spare their horses. There. That Ornry Cuss smashed the window. See what he threw. That's a rock wrapped in one of the reward notices. Might have knocked my brains out, even a stone that big in. Funny what the boys do when they're full of red-eye. This looks like it might be a piece of ore. Guess I'll keep it as a souvenir. I probably won't take anything else back east. There ain't no gold nugget. Wrap it up again and take it with you. Me? I'm going to eat. If I can get my boots on. Doggone them! Disgusted and disappointed, Billings returned to his room at the hotel. His first act, after turning up the coal oil light, was to toss his keepsake on a table. Then it was that he noticed that its wrapper bore a penciled straw. Must be some insult intended for the sheriff. I know where Agnew is. If you'll meet me on Boot Hill one hour after the last wound shuts up, I'll tell you. But you'll have to make a deal. Come alone. Might be a trap, but who'd want a trap bender? I'll meet this fellow myself. In the unholy places in the world, this is the worst. Joshua trees, cactus plants, and gunman's graves. What's that? Only a wooden grave marker. But it could have been someone kneeling with a gun. I'll keep my own gun ready. Those shots came from down the slope, but I didn't hear any bullets. Maybe my man was signaling. I'd run into trouble. I don't hear anything. I use now. No one's moving. Hey, there's something on the ground over there by that Joshua tree. It's a man, and he's been shot. Here, fella. I'm a friend. How badly are you hit? Bad. Are you the man who knows what happened to Agnew? I know. Where is he? Where's Agnew? Tell me before it's too late. Fine. Johnny Hastings. 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. Squint Wilson, proprietor of the Owl Saloon, returned to the secluded hideout of the gambler Darby Dick. He told him of important developments in Argent City. Mike Ryan sat around in front of the livery stable for quite a while after the last saloon closed. Then he starts footing it down the street. I followed him, and he kept going towards Boot Hill, so I held fire, waiting to find out what he was up to. Boot Hill. He must have been planning something. What it was that took him there don't matter now. Soon as he got to the slope, he stopped. I slipped up behind and potted him, gave him all six bullets before I lit out. It's a good thing you did, because I've hit on an idea that ought to take the pot now that Mike's out of the game. What you got in mind? I'm going to be the right Honorable Mr. Agnew, and you're going to produce me alive and collect that $5,000 from the sheriff's. Meanwhile, Detective Billings had managed to carry the dead man from Boot Hill to the sheriff's office. It had been a difficult task, but not so hard as that of rousing Bender and getting him from his bed to his easy chair. Well, there he is, ready for the coroner, if you have one. I don't need any trouble. All you do is make trouble. Well, turn the fellow over and let me see him. There you are. Mike Ryan. Town's well rid of him. Only wish he'd been gunned down in some gulch so I wouldn't have to bother burying him. Well, what about Mike Ryan? He was a gunslinger, always making trouble. Where'd he hang out? Who'd he associate with? I don't know. I never asked. Who's Johnny Hastings? Another gunslinger. I don't suppose it would do any good to ask where he is. I know exactly where he is, mister. He's right where he's been since last roundup time. Right where he'll always be. In Boot Hill. Dead? As dead as that sidewinder you're looking at. Killed in a fracas at Squint Wilson's Owl Saloon. Drew first, fired second. Then what did Ryan mean when he told me to find Johnny Hastings? Must have been his way of telling you to go to devil. Well, Ryan was killed by someone who wanted to silence his tongue. We've got to do something. Yeah. Uh-huh. Give me a minute to think out a plan of action. Oh, help me. He's asleep. I might as well go to bed myself. The Lone Ranger and Tonto had camped along a watercourse just outside Argent City, taking advantage of a growth of willows which provided perfect concealment. Then as the day advanced, the Indian went ahead to scout the town. Back at camp, he made his report. There are plenty trouble in town. A fellow named Ryan shot while him go to power with a man from east. Me listen while a man from east make talk with the sheriff big sleep. What did you hear, Tonto? Well, some talk not make good sense. Me savvy man from east is lawman. Him look for a missing Englishman. Well, after he talked to the sheriff, what happened? Well, him get plenty mad and go to hotel. Now in room by alley. A window open. You must have been. You better see the man from the east. Oh. Will you ride to town now? At once. Here, Silver. Steady scout. Steady fellow. Come on, Silver. Get him up. Scout. When Detective Billings roused from sleep a little later, he found a big man in a white hat and a black mask standing on his bedside. He reached for his gun, but it wasn't there. Why? Easy, Mr. Billings. I'm here to help you. Who are you? What's the meaning of that mask? It only means that I must hide my identity while I serve justice. I'm on the side of the law, just as you are. You seem to know a lot about me. I took the precaution to examine your credentials. You represent an agency of high repute. Well, what do you want with me? Mr. Billings, I came to Argent City to search for the missing man, Agnew. I want to join forces with you. Do you believe me? I'm an experienced detective, as you know, and I shouldn't be taken in by anyone. Somehow, I do believe you. Good. Then tell me all about it. All right, I will. After hearing the detective's story, the Lone Ranger swung himself through the window and was soon beyond the danger of observation. He'd left the Easterner with a warning that an attempt might be made on his life, and Tonto was unobtrusively watching over him. Billings kept for his room. Late that night, he had callers. Who's there? Stand aside or I'll let you have you through the door. What I tell you, it's me. Whoever you are, you're not Bender. He wouldn't walk this far to see Lazarus rise from the dead. That's just it. I've got you, dead man. What a relief to get a load off my feet and mine at the same time. The gent with the beard is Agnew. Tell him about it, Duke. Are you George Herbert Agnew, son of the 9th Earl of Marksbury? Yes, I'm here. What is this talk about a reward and all that sort of thing? Really, my good fellow, I... Who's the other party? That's Mr. Squint Wilson. He found the missing gent and lays claim to the reward. This is a mighty comfortable chair, mister. Several nights later, Billings awakened to find the Lone Ranger in his room again. I've been hoping you'd return. You know... Yes, my Indian friend has been watching developments. Our search for Agnew seems to have ended. Then you intend to pay off to Wilson? A writer from Mine Junction just brought in a telegram from my agency. It advises me that the proof offered by Agnew is acceptable and that I'm to pay the reward and return with him immediately. He fits the description, I suppose. To the last detail. By then, too, he's been identified by several citizens. When is the reward to be paid? Tonight, in the sheriff's office. I delayed it as long as possible on the chance that you might show up with something. Well, why should I interfere in that case which your agency's closed? Well, I guess that you shouldn't. But, well, the stories I've heard about you led, well, led me to expect... What? Well, something fabulous, I suppose. My horse is just outside. Come to the window with me. A savage, beautiful land. I'd like to become a part of it. Perhaps you shall. Your hand, friend. Adios. Come on, Silver. I wonder what he meant. The following night, when time for the payoff came, Sheriff Bender's office was crowded. Several of the gunmen who made the Owl Saloon their headquarters had accompanied Squint and the masquerading Darby Dick. Present, too, were the men who had honestly erred in identifying him as Agnew. On the desk between the sheriff's feet, gold pieces were stacked. What are we waiting for, Detective? I sent a man to Mind Junction to see whether any further word had come through for me by telegraph. Well, that must be him now. Stand where you are, all of you. A masked gunslinger and an engine. What do you mean by busting in on these proceedings? Where's my gun? Where's my gun? Hand me my gun, somebody. Oh, the Lone Ranger. The Lone Ranger? Oh, oh, my chair. What are we going to do, Darby? Play the game and bluff it out. Are you the right honorable George Herbert Agnew, heir to the Earl of Marksbury? Yes, you're quite right, old fellow. May I say that I'm enjoying your performance immensely? I can't say that I'm enjoying yours. Fancy meeting a hold-up man face to face in the sheriff's office. You're not Agnew. Oh, come now. My identification has been established to the satisfaction of the detective agency, which Mr. Billings represents. There's one test to which he failed to put you. Indeed? Yes. The real Agnew could shoot jackrabbits from a stage. Yes, sir. I saw him do it. He was sitting right beside me. Now, I want to see you break that bottle on the sheriff's desk on the other side of the room. Fancy that. Cover the room, fellow. Room covered plenty. Back up toward me, Mr. Agnew. I am keeping a gun in your back while you draw on fire. You will draw slowly, fire once, and drop the gun. This is utterly ridiculous. Go on, Duke. Shooting rabbits was a whole lot harder. Show this mass to end up. Seems that I have no choice. He missed by a yard. I was nervous. Your hand never trembled. You missed because you couldn't see the target through a dead man's spectacles. Those glasses were ground for a near-sighted man. Your eyes are normal, so your vision was blurred. Now tell us who you really are and where you got those spectacles. Let me get the cuss of things off my nose. Blast them. All right, get them, squint. Now's our chance. Well, you'd better get up off the floor and put this faker in his confederate and iron. He shot my gun hand. You'll hang along with your partner. I'm sorry that Tonto had to knock him senseless. That was a clever piece of work, friend. But how did you guess that Agnew's glasses didn't fit that fellow? He revealed the facts in a dozen ways to Tonto who was watching him. But where's the real Agnew? Mike Ryan gave you the answer with his dying words. I don't understand. When he said find Johnny Hastings, he meant that you would find the body of Agnew in Hastings' graves. The attendant Agnew is actually Darby Dick for whom I've been hunting so long. Tonto, we finished two jobs at one time. That's right. I have another piece of business in mind that concerns you, Sheriff Bender. You've outlived your usefulness as a lawman. Oh, you mean you're going to... I mean that you can't be trusted to keep these killers in jail until they hang. That's right, Mr. Maskman. Sheriff, why don't you appoint a new chief deputy and then resign in his favor? Would you take the job billings? Well, I'd like to. But I don't know the country, the people. I don't know I'll be around to help in any emergency. But this procedure ain't exactly legal. It may not be good law, but it'll be good judgment on your part if you follow my suggestion. You need a rest. Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am getting a bit old for the job. Well, if you look around a little, you'll find whatever papers I have to sign, Mr. Billings. And I'll mosey along home. Sometime he might fetch me up my easy chair. Hey, where'd the masked man go? He went out the door, him and the engine. Dammit, scum! Dammit, scum! All you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.
