a cloud of dust and a hearty high old silver, the Lone Ranger. His faithful 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 and the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver, the Lone Ranger meets Johnny Owens. Come on, Silver! Very big fellow! Come on, Silver! A cold, rain-soaked wind swept down from the Laramie Mountains and beat against every tent and clabbered shack in the new boomtown of Cheyenne, Wyoming. Overnight, the single street of this raw prairie town had been churned into a swimming ooze by wheels and hooves. Freighters, frontiersmen, soldiers, floaters, and thousands of casements Irish trackmen were in Cheyenne because it was the latest railhead of the Union Pacific. The scene wasn't new. It had happened before in Kearney, North Platte, and Julesburg. Wherever the railroad construction crews established a base, a new boomtown was born. saloons, gambling tents, hurdy-gurties, and honky-tonks appeared almost by magic. In most cases, there was little law except guns and the swinging axe handles. But in Cheyenne, there was Johnny Owens. Young and years, but old in the ways of fighting men, Johnny shook the water from his raincoat and stomped into the sidetracked freight car that served as a telegraph office. Hello, Bill. Hey, hi, Johnny. Wait a minute till I finish taking this message that's coming in. Sure. Well, this is news. What is it? That was the operator Julesburg clearing the track for a special that's coming up tonight. And this is a special. Yeah? Locomotive and a private car carrying General Dodge and some other men. Guess the big boss wants a look-see to his new end of track. General Dodge, huh? He couldn't have picked a worse night to come up here. Why? How are things stacking up outside? Not so good. I don't mean the weather. And neither do I. Clay Boyd's got his big gambling tent going full blast. There's a dozen other places peddling Skullcracker Whiskey. Well, all I can say is those track boys better be nice. There's high brass rolling this way. It's not the trackman I'm worried about. Jack Casement can hold those Irishmen in line. Casement's not here. He left town this afternoon with the surveying crew. Hmm. And we are sitting on a keg of powder. What do you mean? If Clay Boyd can stir up a ruckus between his hard cases and the Irishman, he'll do it. Yeah, I know. Everybody says that Boyd's got plenty of money on the line betting that the Central Pacific will beat us into Ogden. That's just one of his bets. What? Wait. Something coming over the line. More news from the General? No. Wait till I acknowledge it. Yeah. This is from Omaha for the gent we were just talking about. Clay Boyd? Yeah. Want to hear, Sheriff? I want to hear anything that coyote's mixed up in. Not much to it. Nothing we don't already know. It says General Dodge and government commissioners on the way. See what you can do. It's signed Calvin Foley. Never heard of him. Foley's the land shark that sold a bunch of worthless prairie lots a hundred miles south of the right of way back in Kearney. Oh, sure, I remember. Guess he and Clay Boyd are paired up now. They always have been. That's the trouble. Shall I deliver this telegram? Sure. You'll find Boyd up at the big tent dealing a crooked game of pharaoh like it's not. I'm not going to trail clear up there till this rain clears up. Besides, we've got to wait here till the work train comes up. Left pine siding over an hour ago. Is the work train ahead of the special? Yeah. Melissa. Miss Carter. Hello, boys. Oh, I know it's bad luck to keep an umbrella open like this indoors, but I can't see it. Here, let me do it. Oh, thanks, Johnny. Well, brush your laundry bundle, Mr. Maddox. Here. Three clean shirts. Just as good as new. Well, thanks, Miss Carter, for bringing them over. But you shouldn't have done it in all this rain. Oh, Carter's laundry service never fails. Rain or shine. If you ask me, I think the girl who runs it is kind of local. And what's wrong with running a laundry in a town where there are as many dirty shirts as there are in Cheyenne? I know. But it doesn't seem right that a girl like you should be... Especially when everybody is willing to pay 50 cents apiece to have them laundered. All I did was hire some Chinese to do the washing. I do the ironing and that's Carter's laundry service. Blame? Good idea. I don't know what we do without it. Oh, here's your money, Miss Carter. Thank you. Now, Sheriff Owens, do you still think I'm crazy? It's not that, Melissa. It's just that I... Oh, she's a smart girl, Sheriff. No getting around it. I think you ought to have more help, that's all. It's too big a job. You're right. I do need some help. Especially tonight. I'm cooking up a big batch of soap and I need someone to lift the kettle for me. There you are, Sheriff. A job ready and wait. How about it, Johnny? All right. I don't know much about making soap, but I'm willing to learn. Good. Come on. Say, Johnny, you and Melissa aren't going very far and you've got that big umbrella. Do you mind loaning me a raincoat for a little while? I'll have to deliver Clay Boyd's telegram. Sure, Bill. Here it is. I'll pick it up later on. Yeah, thanks. Come on, Melissa. The Lone Ranger and Tonto pull their horses to a halt on the rain-soaked trail a few miles east of Cheyenne. Oh, easy, big man. Give the horses a little rest, Tonto. Not far from Cheyenne now. The trail's good from here on in. Uh, Kemosabe. Yes? Me not savvy. Yesterday me get a letter at the post office in Denver. You'll read it. We break camp, ride plenty fast ever since. I'm sorry I haven't had time to explain it, Tonto. That letter was from Bill Cody. You know, he's supplying fresh buffalo meat for the crews that are building the railroad. Uh-huh. Their latest end of track town is Cheyenne. They moved in there a few days ago. But Cody isn't there. He's out on the range most of the time. So he's asked us to do something for him. What's that? He says the gamblers and gunmen who follow these boom towns have been causing trouble. Starting brawls with the trackmen. Trying to delay the work. He wants us to be near enough to help if anything should happen. Their lawmen in Cheyenne? A young fellow named Johnny Owens. I never met him but he has a good reputation. Ready, Tonto? Uh-huh. Come on, Silver. Get him out of the scout. It was only a short time later and the rain had slackened to a drizzle when a wailing locomotive whistle announced the work trains arrival on the main track beside the telegraph office. Hey there, engineer. Yeah? You'll have to back up enough cars onto the Y to clear the switch at the end of the spur. What's the idea? Special coming in with General Dodge. He'll want his private car in here next to the telegraph office. All right. Where have you fellas been? I expected you an hour ago. Ah, this rain's washing away the roadbed. Couple of fills between here and Pineside and the next thing to suit. Had a brakeman walking ahead of us for about a mile just to be sure the track was still there. I'll report that to Jewsburg as soon as I get back. Go ahead and switch your cars. Back? Well, where are you going? Got to deliver a telegram up at Boyd's gambling tent. Say, ain't that raincoat just a mite too big for you, Bill? It belongs to the sheriff. I'm just barring it. See you later. Oh, there. I'm sure it's done by this time. Oh. Well, now your job starts, Johnny. All right. What do I do? Lift the kettle off the stove and start pouring the mixture into those long pans over on the table. Oh, watch out. Don't burn yourself. Shucks. Is this all there is to making soap? I thought you said it was work. Well, I finished the hard part. All you have to do is pour. Oh, here. I'll fix the pans for you. Easy, easy. Leave the horses here, Toto. Uh-huh. Stay away from those lice at the other end of the street. Uh, where are we paying lawmen? I don't know, Toto. Cody said that Johnny Owens is generally in or around the telegraph office. We'll try there first. As Bill Maddox picked his way through the sticky gumbo of Cheyenne's Main Street and headed for the big torch-lit gambling tent, he had no way of knowing Clay Boyd's orders to Buck Hearn, the gambler's chief spieler and gunman. Right this way, gents. Right this way. Monte Faro, Rondo, roulette, poker. They're right inside, gents, and every game is fair and square. Try your luck, boys. Try your luck. Step right inside and tight. Huh? Yeah, yeah, Clayd. I just got word. He left the telegraph office and he's headed this way. Take one of the boys and stab him. Sure, boss. When that's done, we can kick this thing off, yeah. Hurry up, get moving. Nor did the telegraph operator know that a tall masked man and an Indian were walking in the deep shadows that lined the opposite side of the street. He saw two figures coming toward him in a diagonal line and he paid scan attention until one of them shouted suddenly. It's an ambush, Toto. That man out there in the street doesn't have a gun. We've got to stop it. Come on. Look, one of them critters is wearing a mask. Yeah, the other one's a rich kid. What's Bielhud? Burn him down! Well, it's all poured, Melissa, and you've got enough soap here to... Listen. Gunpowder. That means they don't... Wait here. I'll be right back. Oh, no, Johnny, don't... Wait. Listen up, Toto. Man in the street. See if he's dead. Uh-uh. Reach, Gunsinger. I've got you covered. Keep him up and turn around. Put the mask. I'm glad to see that badge you're wearing, Sheriff. You must be Johnny Owens. Yeah, but you're not going to get around me. This... This fellow stopped Bullitt. Him still alive. Not know how bad him hurt. Why, that's Bill Maddox. Do you know him, Sheriff? Sure. He's the brass pounder for the railroad. But two men tried to kill him. Toto and I came up just as it happened. And you two must run off the gun, Sixet. Wait a minute. How do I know that you... You don't, Johnny. But there isn't time to argue about it unless you want to forget about the mob that's heading this way. Clay Boyd's gun hands. This is what I was afraid of. Now, if the trackmen pitch in, the town will bust wide open. Not if there's nothing to fight about. Quick, where can I take this man who's been shot? Well, the nearest place I know of is Melissa Carter's house. Where's that? The third place, left side of the street where the lights burn in. Good. I'll carry him, Toto. You stay here and help Johnny. Wait, what are you trying to do? Save your friend's life if it can be saved. Meet me where we left the horses, Toto. Well, I'll be... I was holding a gun on that outlaw, but he just walked... Him, not outlaw. Imprim. I don't know. Cards are stacking up mighty fast, and I'm not sure who's dealing. All I do know is what's coming up the street. You gonna side me, Injun? Uh-huh. I hope so. 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. While Toto and Johnny Owens prepared to face the outlaws, the Lone Ranger carrying Bill Maddox in his arms reached Melissa Carter's house. There's nothing to be afraid of. Johnny Owens told me to bring this man here. He's been shot. It's Bill. Bill Maddox. Quick, let me then close the door. Where can I put him? There, on the couch. Is there a doctor near here? Dr. Prescott lives near the tracks. I'll get him. In the meantime, heat some water. He'll need it. What's in those pans? I've been making soap. Where's Johnny? We heard shots. I'm sure Johnny will make out all right. It's the trackmen and the gamblers. If they start fighting... Now if we can prevent it, do what you can for Bill. I'll send the doctor. Well, wait. You heard what Buck said? The sheriff's been killed. Yeah, what a case was Jughead Irishman bushwhacked him. Hey, look. Here comes a bunch of them now. Other people besides track layers live in this town. Are we going to let them get away with it? What's that you're saying, Boyd? You heard me. Aye, and so did the pies right behind me. None of us bushwhacked a lambin'. But if it's a fight you're after, we... Hold on, I'm in. Just a minute, Boyd. Hey, look at me. It's old. It's the sheriff. Keep those guns in leather. If there's any lead slinging around here, I'll do it. And you, Ryan, keep your boys quiet. Hold it, boys. Sheriff, this criminal... I know. I heard the whole thing. Well, can you... I mean, I thought you... The frame-up didn't work, Clay. I don't know what happened, Sheriff, but if you'd like to see Cheyenne rid of about 20 gun-toting tin horns, me and the boys... That's exactly what I don't want. Jack Casement, your boss, isn't here, but I'm running the law in this town. And I'll say there'll be no fights. We're not afraid of them gamblers' guns. Break it up, Ryan, and take the boys with you. It'll be my guns. You'll be bucking. Will I... Well, all right, Sheriff. But if them tin horns better remember that if one of them so much as lifts a fever... Why, you dirty pig-swing... Shut up, both of you. You heard what I said, Ryan. Come on, boys. Congratulations, Sheriff. Sheriff, you handled that very well. Better than your gun-slicks handled the bushwhacking job? What do you mean? Let's play our cards face up. Buck Hearn and another one of your men thought they killed me a few minutes ago. I don't know what you're talking about. I was dealing cards up at the tent. Sure you were. But you got down here mighty fast when the shooting started. Yeah, so did a lot of other people. I heard the ruckus and then Buck come in and told me some of those hard-case trackmen that bushwhacked you. And you figured it was a good excuse to start a brawl that would have roped in every man in town. No. Now I'll tell you what really happened. I loaned my raincoat to Bill Maddox, a telegraph operator. He's about my size and build. He got what was intended for me. Maddox? But where... I mean, he's not... If he's still alive, it's not your fault. Listen, Owens. Just because you've got a tin star pin in your shirt, you can't accuse me... Stop bluffing, Clay. This is no two-bit poker game. I know what you're trying to do. The same thing you've tried in every town we've hit. The idea is to start trouble with casemen's track layers. You're loco. All I do is run a few games... To cheat the men out of their money, sell them cheap whiskey, and hope you can start enough fights to keep the track from going through on schedule. Well, that's no skin off my nose. It's money in your pocket if you can hold it up. Prove it. I can't. But if Bill Maddox is dead, I'm arresting you for murder. Why, you... Don't reach for it, Clay. I'm warning you. Slim, but... If those men behind you try to draw, my partner will throw down first. That right, Injun? He got them covered. Hey, Clay, that's the same rich... Shut up. Anything else you want to tell me, Sheriff? Yeah. You and your gun hands get back to that gambling tent and stay there. Maybe we will, and maybe we won't... You heard me. Move. Come on, boys. We've got more to do than argue with a gun-crazy lawman. Well, at least we kept them apart. That's the main thing. Gambler, fellas, plenty bad. Better you keep eyes open. Yeah, but critters like those take a lot of watching. Come on. Let's see if that masked friend of yours took Bill over to Melissa's house. Melissa! Oh, what happened? Did you... Nothing. It was Clay Boyd and his bunch trying to stir up the trackman. Everything's all right now. Bill Maddox, Bill was shot. A tall man wearing a mask brought him in here. Yes, I know, but how is he? Then Dr. Prescott came over. The masked man sent him. Bill's going to be all right. It was just a scalp wound. He's resting now over there on the couch. Thank heaven he's alive. Who shot him, Johnny? Somebody who thought he was me. Wearing my raincoat made him think that... Johnny. Bill. I'm sure glad that slug didn't dig any deeper. You just rest a while. Yeah. We can't rest now. Special train coming in with General Dodge. Got to get to work and see if... Don't worry about it, Bill. You rest here at Melissa's house. I'll see that the special gets in, all right? If any trouble starts while the General's here, it might not be bad. There's no chance of that unless... What, Johnny? Unless Clay Boyd found out about that train. But he can't find out, Bill, because you never delivered that telegram from Calvin Foley. Yeah. That's right. Even so, I wish Jack Casement was in town. Those Irishmen go on the prod, he's the only one who can handle them. Well, why should the trackmen cause trouble, Johnny? They won't, unless the gamblers start it. Oh, I wish there was some way of... There's no way of knowing what they'll do, so all we can do is sit tight and hope. You wait here with Bill. I'll go to the telegraph office and watch for the special. What the... It was the Indian who came in with you. Now he's gone. Who is he, Johnny? I wish I knew. He and that masked man helped me out twice tonight. I'd feel a lot better if they were still here. A few minutes later, Johnny Owens left Melissa's house and headed for the telegraph office. He had no way of knowing that at the same time, Tonto was listening carefully outside the canvas wall of Clay Boyd's gambling tent. Are you sure, Buck? But didn't I just get through telling me I talked to the engineer on the work train? I was down by the track looking for a sawbones to fix his hand that owl who'd plucked. Never mind that. What did that engineer say? A special. A locomotive and General Dodge's private car is due in here any time now. I tell you, Clayton... I know what to do. That work train with all those flight cars loaded with iron rails is on a spur track, isn't it? Yeah. We'll get down there right away. Wait till we see the special pulling in and open the throttle on the work train. Can you do it, Buck? Sure. But how about the Irishman? All of them will be hanging around down there. Don't worry. Slim and bad now see that none get near the train without stopping some lead. All right, let's get started. Nor did Johnny Owens know that Tonto hurried to the Lone Ranger and explained everything he'd heard. The masked man lost no time in forming a plan and putting it into action. We haven't much time, Tonto. I'll ride west and locate Jack Casement. You go to Melissa's house. Get what I told you about. Me do it. Then wait for me here. Come on, Silver. It was an easy job for the Lone Ranger to find the small camp where the Union Pacific surveying crew had stopped for the night. He dismounted quietly and walked noiselessly to the little tent where Jack Casement was sleeping. Jack. Jack Casement. What the... Mashed. Sure, and I must be dreaming. No, you're not dreaming, Jack. Roll out of those blankets we're going back to Cheyenne. Cheyenne? Well, I wouldn't go. Yes, you will. A gun? You outlaw of hand. Quiet. I don't want to awaken the rest of the crew. Come on. You're needed back at end of track. But I tell you... We haven't time to talk. Hurry. I don't know what you're trying to do but I never argue with the gun in my ribs. Good. We'll ride double on my horse. Come on. And while Silver carried the Lone Ranger and Jack Casement, boss of the Irish trackman, back to Cheyenne, Tonto made a hurried trip to Melissa's house. Oh, it's you, the Indian. Oh. Tonto and he big hurry. Need eight, ten big bars of soap. Soap? You mean this I've just made? Uh-huh. What in the world do you want with that much soap? No time. Make talk. Me take soap? Well, I can't imagine why you want it but Johnny said you were a friend of his so I guess... Me get him. That good now. Wait a minute. Aren't you going to tell me what you want? No time to lose. Tonto, go plenty fast. The large crowd of trackmen waiting near the telegraph office to welcome General Dodge were surprised when Jack Casement appeared suddenly among them. A moment later a distant locomotive whistle announced the approach of General Dodge's special train. It was then that the sheriff Johnny Owen standing at the edge of the crowd noticed the men climbing aboard the sidetrack work train. At first he was puzzled. Then suddenly he realized what was happening. Clay Boyd and his men were going to move the heavily loaded work train off of the siding. It would move toward the main track and crash headlong into the special. He shouted a warning but it was too late. Stop it! Somebody stop it! Several of Boyd's men started firing from behind stacks of iron rails on the slowly moving flat car. But a thousand men couldn't have held the heavy work train as it rolled slowly but surely toward the main track. Then suddenly the train seemed to stand still. The locomotive's driving wheels spun frantically and sparks flew from the rails. Saints, first office. Look at her. She lost her legs. Must have hit a puddle of grease. What happened, Jack? Engine wheels can't get traction. No matter what causes it, the train stopped. The main track's clear for the special. Here she comes. Here's where me and the buckles wipe them gambling coyotes off the face of the earth. Three men pick animals, boys! Let's go! Melissa, General Dodge says that Cheyenne is the most peaceful end of track town he's ever seen. Oh, he should have arrived thirty minutes earlier. Well, that's all over now. Clayt Boyd and his men are all in jail and there's enough evidence to send them to the penitentiary. Oh, it's almost too good to be true. I still don't understand how all that soap of yours got onto the tracks and made the engine lose traction. Well, I told you the Indian came here and asked me for it. Then it must have been him that... But how did Jack Caseman get back to town so quick? I never would have been able to corral Boyd's gamblers without the help of the trackmen. Jack Caseman's the only one they'll listen to. There's only one answer, Johnny. The Indian and that man who wore the mask. The story you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated. of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger of the Lone Ranger
