horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty, hi-oh, Silver, the Lone Ranger. With his fateful 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 in the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver, the Lone Ranger rides again. Come on, Silver, up the trail, hi-oh, Silver. During the Revolutionary War and for many years thereafter, the beaver hat, tall and very polished, was the mark of affluence and dignity. It took many beaver skins to make one, and some of them sold as high as $150 each. Most of them were made in Philadelphia, and as the demand for them spread to Europe, adventurous trappers and fur traders penetrated deeper and deeper into the mountains of the far west in search of skins to supply the tremendous demands for beaver hats. Thus, it was the trapper and trader who established the first trails through the mountains to California, Oregon, and Washington, laying the foundation for the great Oregon and California trails. Then, one day, something happened in a Philadelphia hat maker's shop, which was destined to change the course of western history. Just look at that hat. It's as fine as a beaver. Beaver? Why, Mr. Kinney, it's better than a beaver. Maybe so. It's lighter before. And it looks a lot better than a beaver. What gave you the idea for the design of that felt hat, John? Well, I got a letter from a, well, from a friend of mine who's out west. Oh, yes. I remember now. He wanted you to design a special type of hat for him. Yes, that's right. Said he wanted it light and weight because he had to wear it so much of the time. And also, he wanted it wide of brim to shield his eyes from the sun and his face from the rain. Well, that hat'll do all of those things. It might be a good idea if we made a few more hats like that one. We could call it the, the planesman. An excellent merchandising idea, Mr. Kinney. There's a lot of folks interested in going out west right now. That hat might catch on. It was late in August of the same year that a mounted courier, his horse heavily laden with mail from the frontier outpost of Independence, Missouri, rode into the compound of Fort Laramie in western Wyoming. He pulled his horse up sharply before the blockhouse of post commander, Colonel Fontenelle. Hey, the mail's in, boys. Where's Colonel Fontenelle? The colonel's coming. Here, there he is now. Yeah, well, the mail from Independence. Put the saddlebags in the porch there, Ryder. I'll have one of the troopers take care of your horse. You'll have to sign for the mail, Colonel. Yes, certainly. There you are, sir. The mail's sealed in the pouch. And here's a package. It's quite large. Too big to seal in the pouch, huh? It's addressed to Sir William Drummond Stewart, whoever that is. Oh, yes, yes. Sir William. The colonel means big hat. Or just plain Bill Stewart. You mean the ombre I've seen around here that wears that tall beaver hat? Uh-huh, that's him. Is he a sir? At least that was his title before he came over from England and decided to spend the rest of his life out here in the West. Oh, man, man. Sir William is a gentleman. Nobody's denying it. Well, that tall hat of his just looks funny out here where the only headgear is an Indian war bonnet or a coonskin cap. Well, well, gentlemen. It's not often that one has an opportunity to get such frank opinion of oneself from one's fellow citizens. Sir William, I apologize for any uncouth or uncomplimentary remarks that may have been overheard. I'm sure they were spoken in jest. Yeah, Bill, I didn't mean nothing. Me neither, Bill. Quite all right. I, uh, did I understand the dispatch rider to say that he had a package for me, Colonel? Oh, yes, I almost forgot it. Here it is, Sir William. Hmm, from Philadelphia. This is quite a coincidence. Coincidence? Yes, from my hatter. Certainly it can't be another beaver hat. Open it up, Bill. Let's see it. Excellent idea. Here, you fellows, help me with the cord. Yes, I'll cut it. That's it, that's it. Cut the cord there. Open it there. Well, what do you make of that? A hat! A hat it is! But it's not a beaver. Hey, uh, there's a note attached, sir, will you? Oh, so there is. Let's see what it says. That's what it says. Accept this latest fashion and gentleman's headgear with our best wishes. This is a new style that is becoming quite popular in the East and in Europe. Knowing your liking for immaculate dress, we feel you will want to discard your beaver for this new fashion which is called the planesman. Big brimmed and kind of flat, ain't it? Make good shade on a hot day. And he's an umbrella on a rainy day, perhaps. I, uh, have only seen one of those new hats. Oh, you've seen one like it? Yeah, about two months ago, on the Overland Trail, three days out of Independence. That's where the Indians planned to attack you and your troops. Yeah. The hat was worn by the man who warned us of that planned attack. He was a mysterious mask rider who's called the Lone Ranger. Little did Sir William Drummond Stewart realize the terrific impact the arrival of his new hat would have on the economic welfare of thousands of Indians and traders in the Far West. The first shock was felt by the traders who made the annual pilgrimage to the Wind River Rendezvous in Wyoming where they bartered with the Indians for the furs of the beaver, which were becoming more and more scarce. A fur trader stopping at Fort Laramie discussed the situation in the public tap room with the bartender. As he did, Sir William Drummond Stewart listened attentively nearby. Let me have some of that barrel, whiskey barkeep. Can't afford no jug liquor nowadays. Your business bad, huh? Yeah, rotten. Ever since them felt hats come in style. Can't sell beaver hides for nothing nowadays. Reckon the Indians don't like that either. Yeah, they don't know nothing about it yet. There'll be matter in heck when they find it out. Well, they bought most nigh everything they needed with beaver skins. Sugar and salt and coffee and calico for the squaw. Yeah, you're right. If it wasn't for slicked up dudes like that one over there, we'd all be in clover, Indians and traders both. I couldn't help but hear what you said, my good man. You'll pardon the intrusion. Nobody asked you to butt in. Me and the barkeep was getting along all right without you, dude. It was not dudes like myself who caused your financial reverses in the fur market. You and men like you brought it upon yourselves. Hey, now listen, dude. Don't get telling me my business. I say if you wasn't wearing one of them newfangled fell hats, us trappers and Indians would be making money. A butt out of this talk clicks me and the barkeep. The fact is you encouraged the Indians to kill all the beaver. They were becoming more scarce each year. The price of their furs kept going higher and higher. Beaver hats were becoming too costly. But you wouldn't stop. As long as you got your price. You're smart, ain't you, dude? How do you like this? You knocked him cold, sir, will you? Oh, that's Jamie, the crooked fur trader. He had it coming. He almost clipped me. I really didn't intend to hit the fellow so hard. He's coming out of it. I was afraid that hat of yours would get you into trouble, Bill. Oh, I'm in no trouble. It's the fellow there on the floor who's in trouble. Give me a hand, will you? Give me a hand, sir, buddy. As I will gladly, my man. I'm sorry. Indeed, sorry. It was really hasty of me. Yeah? Dude, I'll fix you if it's the last thing I ever do. The Indians of the Rockies knew nothing of the invention of the felt-making machine or the change in fashion of men's hats. Chief Fleet Deer learned of the effect of both from Ganey, the crooked fur trader, who'd sworn vengeance on Sir William Drummond Stewart. Why, you know, buy beaver skin, huh? No can use, Chief. Savvy? No savvy. Tribe kill many beaver for white trader. Get much salt, much sugar, much bullets for guns. No, that was last year, Chief. Fashions and hats have changed. You know Bill Stewart, man with big hat, Fort Laramie. Oh, man with hat like log. Him good friend of Chief Fleet Deer. Him good friend of all Indians. Oh, you think so. Well, he done you Indians a lot of dirt when he quit wearing beaver hat. Me no savvy. Now look, Chief. Now it's this way. Bill Stewart's hat made out of beaver skin. Bill Stewart throw away beaver hat. Get new hat. Big, big, big like this. White hat. Many of Bill Stewart's friends, far off, they throw away beaver hat. They don't wear beaver hat anymore. Indian need salt, need flour, need bullet. Oh, too bad, Chief. Blame it on Bill Stewart and his friends. Bill Stewart, not friend of Indian. Throw away hat, trader no buy beaver skin. Well, that's the way it all shapes up, Chief. Sorry. Me fix. A few days after the discussion between Ganey the Traitor and Chief Fleet Deer, the lone ranger and his Indian companion, Tonto, crossed the Platte River and headed westward. A few miles outside Fort Laramie slackened the speed of the great horse suit. Tonto. Uh-huh? I'm positive I saw an Indian run behind that bluff up ahead. Me think me see him, too. That's strange. The Indians in this region are not on the war path. I had a report at the crossing from Jim Bridger. Jim Bridger. Him heap good scout. Yes, and he'd know if the Indians were on the war path. Why Indian run, hide behind bluff? We'll find out. We're almost there now. Come on, Silver. Get him up, scout. Kimosabi! Look out for Anna! Kiss me! Drop that bow! Him drop, Anna, and him drop, too. I don't think he's hurt. Oh, Silver. Hold, hold, hold, hold, hold. We'll find out what this is all about. Indian aim arrow at you. Him mean to kill you and me kill Indians. No, Tonto. This Indian tried to kill me. He undoubtedly had a reason. Not good reason and me kill him. He's not hurt, Tonto. Only scared. Your bullet split arrow and bow. Here, fellow. Get up. Me try kill you, Bill Stewart. Now you kill me, huh? Now you try kill mask man. Now me kill you. No, Tonto. Wait, wait, Tonto. Ah, him. Now talk up, fellow. You say you want to kill Bill Stewart? Sure. Don't try it again. Savvy? No. No. Me don't try again. No. Yeah. Come on, Tonto. Here, Silver. Come, Scout. Steady, Silver. Indian run like deer. Yes, we frightened him, all right. Kimo Sabe. Who Bill Stewart? Colonel Fontanelle, commander of Fort Laramie, told me about him several months ago. Ah, me remember army colonel. Seems that Bill Stewart's a titled Englishman who came to this country a few years ago and decided to make his home here in the West. His real name is Sir William Drummond Stewart. They think very highly of him out in this country. Oh. Why Indian want to kill him? That's what I'm going to find out, Tonto. We're riding into Fort Laramie to see Sir William. Come on, Silver. Get him up, Scout. 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. Reaching Fort Laramie, the Lone Ranger was immediately admitted into the presence of Colonel Fontanelle, the commander. The masked man sought information as to the whereabouts of Sir William Drummond Stewart. Meanwhile, Tonto struck up an acquaintance with an Indian girl who seemed to be employed about the fort. You speak English? Huh? Me speak English, too. Maybe handsome one come from... from East? Oh, Tonto right from East. You name Tonto? Huh? Tonto, pretty name. What girl name? Night Star. Oh, he fine name. Night Star. You go to big Indian rendezvous, maybe. Oh, me not savvy. Each year this time, Indians hold big feast at Wind River. Selfers, heap big feast. Oh, Night Star go? Why, Tonto ask. Well, maybe Tonto go with friend to big power. Friend? Ah. Man with mask on face. Him, there. Him? Go to rendezvous? Maybe. No. Him, your friend. No, go to Wind River. Friend, wear a hat like... Please, Tonto. No left, friend. Go to rendezvous. Oh, thanks, Colonel. I'm glad you think Sir William is in no danger. Not in the least. Why, Sir William is as safe at the rendezvous as if he were right here in the fort. Those Indians love him. However, Colonel, I believe I'll take a ride up that way. I'd like to look in on the big celebration. You'll find it interesting. Sir William knows that you're a friend of mine. He'll be glad to see you, I'm sure. Steady, Silver. Easy. Adios, Colonel. Feel free to stop at the fort any time. Good day. Thank you. Steady, Scout. Steady. Adios, Nightstar. Adios. Come on, Silver. Get him up, Scout. The Lone Ranger had not failed to see the Indian girl talking to Tonto. As they rode out of the stockade and out upon the plain, he questioned his Indian companion in jest. That girl didn't seem to want you to fever, Tonto. Oh, girl, loco like all squaw. Where we go now, Kimasabi? The Wind River. I'm not satisfied that Sir William's life is not in danger. You go to big Indian powwow on Wind River? Yes, Tonto. Sir William will be there. Who's got hope on a hole? Oh, Silver. Oh, easy now. What's the matter, Tonto? Why are you stopping? Kimasabi. Yes? Indian girl at fort, not loco. A moment ago, she was crazy. Now she's not. What's this all about? Girls say, you not go to Wind River. She said that? Ah. She say, if you, my friend, you not go. Tonto, there's something going on among those Indians that Colonel Fontenelle doesn't know about. Girls think danger for you. Then there's no time to lose. We must get to Wind River. Come on, Silver. Get him up, Scout. Well, the Lone Ranger and Tonto raced across Grassy Prairie at top speed, then upon reaching Wind River as quickly as possible. Suddenly, Tonto drew in on his rein, and the Lone Ranger didn't likewise. Kimasabi. Yes, Tonto. Me see sign. Many Indian come by here. I notice the same signs, Tonto. In fact, I'm positive we're near Indians. Silver's been acting strangely. Ears up, all alert. Maybe danger. Well, they are, see? Ah, me see them. Many Indian ride horse. Come, Kimasabi, we run. Too many to fight. It's too late now, Tonto. They're closing in from all sides. Indian kill you. Indian on warpath. Wear much feathers. We'll have to see this out. Take my guns quickly, Tonto. Tonto, take your guns? Yes, quickly. Then make peace sign. Ah, hear me take guns. There. Indian see peace sign. Now they're making peace signs to you. Tonto, when they ride up, tell them I'm your prisoner. Ah, me tell them, but me not savvy. I have reason to believe they want me, not you. Oh, now me savvy. They're quieting down now, but they're closing in. You friend? Ah, me Indian friend. What you want? Man with white hat. And you not get man with white hat. So that's it. My hat has something to do with this situation. Him, your friend? Him, my prisoner. Where you take prisoner? Me take prisoner to Wind River. Indians say, you give guns of man with white hat. Him, my prisoner, and me keep guns. Ah. Indians say, you keep prisoner, you keep guns. Indians follow you to Wind River. Ah. That good. Get him up, scout. It was late at night when the Lone Ranger, Tonto, and the band of Indians reached the Wind River rendezvous. Several thousand Indians were camped on the high plateau. It was evident that some sort of trouble was brewing. A Lone Ranger, still a prisoner, was shoved into a teepee, where Tonto, in possession of the Lone Ranger's guns, insisted on standing guard. To his surprise, the Lone Ranger discovered that he was not the only occupant of the tent. Welcome, stranger. I wasn't expecting company. Sir William Stewart. Yes. Say, fellow, your mask. That's not important now. You must realize that your life is in danger. Seriously, I am a bit concerned. I can't understand it. Neither can I. But there's one question I want to ask you. Where's your hat? Is that a cursed hat? What's this all about? Please, I'm your friend. Colonel Fontenelle knows me. So does Jim Bridger. Please answer me. Now, where is your hat? Well, late this evening, while crossing a small stream, it blew off and floated downstream. Before I could recover it, I was captured. Was it like the one I'm wearing? Exactly. I'd swear it was mine. That explains why I'm here, a prisoner. You were mistaken for me? Undoubtedly. I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry. To the contrary, it may prove fortunate. I may be able to save your life yet, as well as my own. I simply can't understand it. These Indians have been my friends. In fact, I'm supposed to be the guest of honor at this rendezvous. Sir William, I have an Indian friend who is guarding this tent. He has my guns. If anything happens, he'll see that I got them. Kimosabi. Yes, Toto? A hat. Indian girl, you see a fort? Yes. She bring hat from fort. I say you wear hat, Indian not kill you. I blast it all. That's my old beaver. Put on hat like girls say, Kimosabi. You go now. I'm beginning to see now what this is all about. It's that beaver hat. It must be, Sir William. I've known that your hat had something to do with it. But this is a beaver hat. It's not like mine. That's it. I threw this beaver away at the fort when I got a new hat. A hat like yours. I see. The Indians are unable to sell their beaver skins because there's no longer demand for them. They blame you for some reason. Somewhere back at this, we'll find a fur trader by the name of Ganey. I had a little difficulty with him not long ago, and he threatened to get even with me. Seemed that he's succeeding. Me take prisoners to counsel a great chief. No. Catch them, and me keep them. Prisoners, come quick. You're certain he's your friend? Yes. Trust him implicitly. Move quick, prisoners. Kimosabi, me keep close with guns. Good. Sir William, put on this beaver hat. Put on that hat? I won't do it. But it may save your life. You heard what the Indian girl told my friend. If it's going to save her life, it shall be yours, not mine. Now, this is no time to argue a point of honor. Put on the hat. I have my guns nearby. I never thought I'd ever have to wear that hat again. Me shoot. The prisoner not comes soon. Well, my friend, I hope that the next world is as exciting as this one has been. Lone Ranger and Sir William Drummond Stewart were marched before the Council of Indian Chieftains. The Lone Ranger could tell by the expression of the face of the usually stoical tonto, the situation was serious. Chief Fleet, dear, was the first to speak. Who is man with mask? Him, friend. Man with big hat. Oh, man with big hat. Him, Sir William. Huh. Him no wear new hat. Him wear old hat like always. Traitors say, Sir William, wear new hat. Him lie. Where is traitor named Ganey? Here I am, Chief. There's something wrong here. He ain't been wearing that kind of a hat at all. Him wearing beaver hat. Hat made from beaver skin. Him still Indian friend. I'm telling you, Chief, him and that masked fellow's putting something over on you boys. You're the one who tried to put something over, Ganey. You've robbed these Indians long enough. When I had feared, you tried to turn the Indians against me. You can't say that and get away with it, you sneaking aristocrat. He must not be here, Guns. I've got them. Ah, Fisher, even if these Indians won't. Oh! Man with mask, shoot fast. Like lightning. You saved my life. He was going to shoot me. He's not hurt badly. Indians will take care of him. You friend of Sir William. You friend of Chief Fleet, dear. Thank you, Chief Fleet, dear. You have a true friend in Sir William. Me, no. Mask man, what bring you to Wind River? I came here prisoner, Chief. But I also bring you good news. The Hudson Bay Fur Company is soon to send traders here. Men you can trust. They will buy your furs. Beaver furs, too. That good. Mighty good. Really, if that is good news to my Indian friends. All they ask of you is protection for their agents. You must show them the trails, guide them, and see that they're not molested. Indian do. Indian thank man with mask. Indian now make Sir William big chief of all Indian tribes. Well, I was afraid for a while, Chief, that I was going to play another role in your annual celebration. No savvy. Oh, just a jest. On with the celebration, I say. Target away! Sing it away! Tonto. Oh. Night star. Night star so happy. Tonto very brave. Me, no. Tonto do nothing. But Tonto's friend brave. He brave. Me go now. Goodbye, Tonto. Goodbye. Tonto. Where have I heard that name before? I know. Colonel Fontanelle told me about him and the Lone Ranger. Why, Chief. What's Sir William say? Chief, the mask man is the Lone Ranger. You have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated.
