of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty high old silver, the Lone Ranger. Faithful 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 can the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver, the Lone Ranger meets Taddy Roosevelt. On Silver, very big fellow, on Silver, away! It was late afternoon of a cold and cheerless day in November 1886, when a lone rider approached the sprawling Elkhorn Ranch in Dakota Territory. He was a large man, tall and raw bone, with coarse dark hair and a heavy beard. His nose was hawkbeat, and his right eye was opaque black. A leather patch covered the scarred socket where his left eye had been. As he reached the Elkhorn Corral, he pulled his horse to a halt and dismounted. Oh, there. Oh, yeah, kiddies. Oh, oh. Hi, stranger. Looking for somebody? Yes. This is the Elkhorn spread, ain't it? That's right. And I'd like to palaver with the ramrod of the outfit. Here's a gent named Joe Fares. You heard right. You're talking to him. Oh. I, uh, I, uh, heard something else, too. The, uh, barkeep at the bridal bit said you were looking for a good cow hand. Yeah, I might be. Are you applying for the job? Yeah. Um. Where are you from? Texas. Point South. Just drifting through, and when I heard you were paying 40 and found... We do need another hand, and you look like you know your business. I do. But my partner and I always make it a rule to interview new help together. Line in the house and talk to him. Sure. Seems like I've heard about this partner you are. Most everybody has. He bought in on the Elkhorn three years ago. Kind of a dude from back east, ain't he? Oh, he's no dude. You'll find that out soon enough if you go to work for us. Yeah. What's his, uh, name? Theodore Roosevelt. Here we are. I hope you're not busy. I have... Not at all, Joe. Not at all. In fact, I was just going out to look for you. That's all. I want you to meet a friend of mine who just arrived from the east this morning. Joe, this is Frederick Remington. Oh, hi. How do you do? Mr. Remington is an artist of considerable note. Are you familiar with his work? No, I don't think I am. Mind you'll have a chance to see him paint. He's going to be here with us for several weeks. Good. There isn't another artist in America whose work compares with Remington's when it comes to showing... Wait a minute, Theodore. You'll have Mr. Ferris thinking I'm really good. You are. I'll wager that before many years have passed... Excuse me, I came in here to... Well, this man wants a job. Should I hire him? You know more about that than I do, Joe. What's your name? Mike. Is that all? Just Mike? We are short of hand, and I figure if this cowpoke can ride, we might try him out. Why not? It's all right with me. Come on, Mike. I'll show you where the bunkhouse is. The boys are all working the South Range. You'll meet them at supper time. Sure. Glad I met you, Mr. Remington. Thanks. See you later. All right. Well, what do you think of my partner, Fred? I like him. The other chap is interesting, too. You mean the new cowpuncher? He didn't say much. No. No, but his face, the way he stares at you with that one good eye. I wonder if... What? Theodore, he's exactly what I've been searching for. What do you mean? Do you remember the last time you were in New York, we were discussing a portrait series of famous rascals? Rascals? Oh, yes. And you think... This man you've just hired as a cowhand is the perfect model for Jean Lafitte, Morgan, or any pirate of the old Spanish Maine. A pirate? I see what you mean, Fred. He has a patch over one eye, but as far as looking like... Do you mind if I ask him to pose for me? Of course not. If he's willing, I certainly have no objection. But I'll wager it'll be the first time in history a Western cowpuncher ever became a pirate. Theodore Roosevelt might have changed his mind about a cowpuncher who looked like a pirate if he'd overheard several men talking in a well-hidden cabin many miles east of Alcorn Ranch. Butch Cassidy, Harry Longabaw, Ben Kilpatrick, and Will Carver were four-fifths of the famous Hole-in-the-Wall gang. Yeah, how long do we have to lay around here, Butch? Till Big Mike gets back. Well, how long will that be? Your guess is as good as mine. Well, Mike figures that when we pull the Union Pacific Express job, we'll need a new hideout. So he's going over into Dakota to find one. Why can't we head south like we did before? Because the Dakota Badlands will make it tougher for any law dogs to trail us. Sure, and just as tough for us. That's mean country over there. Sure. But if Big Mike draws a map, we won't have any trouble. How about changing horses? We'll have to have a... Mike will line that up, too. Well, I hope so. All he has to do is get the layout on one of those big ranches over there. In the meantime, instead of just waiting, I don't see why the four of us can't... Shut up. Big Mike's rotting this outfit. And he said stay put. Yeah? Well, if Big Mike knows what's good for him, he'll get back here pronto. Big Mike's job at the Elkhorn Ranch was exactly what he wanted. It gave him an opportunity to ride unmolested over many miles of the Badlands and trace rough maps that would guide him and his gang in the future. Only one thing puzzled Big Mike, and he spoke to Roosevelt about it. I'd like to ask a question. Certainly. What is it? That gent that was with you yesterday when me and your partner came in the house, uh, is he kind of loco? Loco? Well, not that I know of. Why? This morning he came over to the bunkhouse and asked me if I'd like to make some extra money. Well? Says he wants to paint my picture. You should feel flattered. Mr. Remington's an excellent artist. What's the idea? He thinks you're the ideal model for a pirate. Pirate, huh? Who's, uh, who's gonna see this picture when he gets it done? No one in particular. He'll probably ship it back east. You don't have to pose for Mr. Remington unless you want to. It's up to you. I don't know. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Because he was afraid that refusal might make his employer suspicious, Big Mike reluctantly consented to pose for Frederick Remington. How long is it gonna take to paint this picture? Not long. I'll do a rough sketch first. The actual painting will come later. Well, all right. What do I have to do? Nothing. Just sit there in that chair and look this way. Directly at me. I'm going to do a full face sketch. You mean like this? Yes. Uh, wait a minute. Can you frown deeply as though you were very angry? Why? Oh, no reason. I just have an idea that pirates are generally angry, that's all. Go on, try it. How's this? Excellent. Perfect. I'll hold it for just a few moments. Within two weeks, the outlaw had accomplished his purpose at the Elkhorn Ranch. He drew a map of the surrounding territory, and he knew that horses would be easy to steal. That night, he disappeared. Mike made only one mistake. On his way to rejoin his gang, he was recognized by a grave-faced Indian. And a short time later, the Lone Ranger knew about it. Oh, Scott, ho, fella, ho. Ho, fella. Oh, Otto, what's wrong? Me see him, Kimazabi. Him pass on trail. Plenty fast. Who are you talking about? Outlaw, we trail long time ago. Big fella, black beard. Only one eye. You mean Big Mike Curry? Uh-huh. Are you sure? Ah, me see him plenty good. Yes, Silver. Which way was he heading, Otto? Him go east. We trail him. Steady, big fella. Big Mike's in this territory. It's ten to one. His gang's here, too. Ah. Come on, Silver. Get him off this count. Oh, you goody. How about time? Well, stranger. What's the matter? You hombres look kind of peeking around the girls. How'd you like to be holed up in his shack for almost a month? Where you been, Mike? Over in the Badlands. I found a good spot for hideout after we do the UP jam. Yeah? Where? Chimney Butte. It's on the west end of a ranch owned by a dude named Roosevelt. Thank you. Here's a map I fixed up. You see? Here's a bend where we stick up the train. Then we trail right over to this Roosevelt ranch. It's the Elkhorn. Pick up fresh horses. Yeah, not bad. Only one thing about this. It doesn't make sense, Mike. What do you mean? How come it took you so long? Well, I had to get a job on the dude's ranch today. It took a few days to figure out everything. A few days? You've been gone over two weeks, Mike, while me and the boys sit here and wait for something to happen. We don't like it. Yeah. Oh, we got it. That's right. What are you two bid' out who's trying to pull on me? We ain't trying nothing, Mike. You've played out your string as head man in this outfit. Keep that gun in leather, you crazy galooty. It stays where it is, nudging your ribs. Now, maybe you'd like to tell us where you've been for the past two weeks. I told you. And we don't believe it. You're right. I'll tell you. It took me a few days to figure out this man. And the rest of the time? I, uh, pretended I was a pirate. Pirate? What? Ah, he's local. No, honest to you. It's bad enough to cross us, Mike, without lying about it. I'm not lying. It's just like I said. You've played out your string. This is it. You dirty coyotes can't do this. No, how about this? Hit the leather, boys. Head for the railroad. This is here, Tonto. The cabin's lighted. No telling what we'll run into. Uh-huh. Wait. Sound like maybe fella hurt plenty bad. Or it may be a trap. Keep your gun handy, Tonto. Uh-huh. Come on. 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. The Lone Ranger out of the hole-in-the-wall gang. Been shot. Him up. Help me lift him, Tonto. Onto the chair. Bullet wound in the chest. My eyes, you come. Every time I've cut your sign. I know. Love him. Never mind. There's a sheriff about this, Tonto. Rest of the gang. Come on. Him say outlaw go to Elba. Let's try to stop that railroad hold-up. Come on, Silver. It's first time. He sticks his head out to use the barrier. Up by sight. Don't shoot, Tonto. Now get in there and hand me those canvas sacks. Hey, I'm butch. All right. That's all of them. All right, good. Now, come on. We've got to get to the horses and hightail it out of here. Hurry. All right, grab some of these. You help, Perry. Sure. Storm blowing up. We'll have to ride hard to make the Badlands Forte brick. We following that map Big Mike gave you? Sure, why not? All right, burn the wind, boys. Get up! Get up! One of the worst storms in the history of Dakota Territory swept across the Badlands that night. In the beginning, it was a fine rain. Then, as the temperature dropped rapidly, the rain changed to sleet, and icy pellets have driven slow that stabbed like sharpened nails. The Lone Ranger and Tonto fought grimly against the storm's fury as they urged their horses toward Elkhorn Ranch. You're almost there, Tonto. The horses can just hold this place for another hour. That's it, Silver. Come on, boy. Come on. While in the main room of the Elkhorn Ranch house, Theodore Roosevelt was preceding his guest not to leave. You can't go now, Fred. It's three miles from here to the railroad station, and in a storm like this, you'd never make it. I believe you're right. Is this a sample of your usual winter weather? It's never been this bad. Ferris has every man in the place out hunting for stock. He must be pretty tough on cattle. Worse than that, unless the boys can herd them toward Chimney Butte and some kind of shelter. Is Ferris out on the range with the rest of the men? He will be, and so will I, as soon as he saddles some horses. Why leave me out of it. I'll come right along with you. Wait a minute. Sounds like someone at the door. What happened? Help me carry him, Fred. Of course. Of course. That's better. Why, he has a nasty cut over one eye. It looks as... Outlaws. Threwed up when I was in Corral. Outlaws? They stole every horse we've got, except the ponies that are hitched to the buckboard. Horse thieves in the midst of a blizzard like this? Hit me before I knew what... I'll get some water and bandages. We'll bathe that cut. Poor tramp. One of the cowboys. Mr. Roosevelt here. Mad, you're one of the outlaws who... Come inside, Toto. I'm not an outlaw. Neither is my friend. But you... I mean... You haven't answered my question. Is Mr. Roosevelt here? Who is it, Fred? Oh, thank heaven it's you. He's masked. And the Indian with him is also... Don't worry, Fred. This is one of the best friends I have in the West. And Toto, too. I'm glad you're here, Mr. Roosevelt. Have you seen any sign of... Who's that lying on the couch? Joe Ferris. Outlaws attacked him in the corral a few moments ago. They stole our horses. We got here too late. I was afraid of that. What do you mean? It's Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall gang. Toto and I have been trailing them all night. But how... They held up a railroad train at Big Bend then headed this way. They have a hideout spotted somewhere around here. Probably at Chimney Butte. Are you sure? There's only one way to find out. Come on, Toto. Oh, wait. If it's a gang, you may need help. Fred and I will go with you. What about horses? Ferris said they've been stolen. Not the buckboard team. You and I will drive that. Get your coat, Fred. Oh, just a minute. What's the matter? That picture on the wall over there. Where did you get it? Oh, excuse me. All this excitement, I forgot to introduce my friend. This is Frederick Remington. How do you do? How do you do? Fred is one of America's outstanding young artists. That's an example of his work. Excellent, isn't it? Remarkably lifelike. Yes, yes. Very good. When did you do it, Mr. Remington? Completed it last week. The subject is a cowpuncher who was working here at the time. Oh, so that's how he lined it up. What do you mean? I was impressed by the man's appearance. A heavy beard, patch over one eye. He seemed to be a direct descendant of all the pirates and buccaneers who ever lived. He is. That's Big Mike Curry, former chief of the Hole in the Wall gang. What? Mike? Yes, that's the name he... And he's the one who Joe Ferris... No, Mike didn't come back here. He was killed this afternoon by his own gang, I think. Well, that's one less outlaw to worry about. Let's go after the rest of them. I don't see how it's possible to trail anyone in the middle of the snowstorm. It will be a hard job unless we... What? Do you happen to have a covered lantern here at the ranch? One that a high wind can't blow out? Lantern? Why, yes, I'm sure I have. But what do you... If we can't find the outlaws, maybe we can make them find us. I don't understand. I'll explain it later. Get the lantern and then wrap up that picture. Picture? It might not work. But if it does, it will be because of your artistry, Mr. Remington. I don't see how I... Hurry, we haven't much time. You men ride the buckboard. Take the picture and the lantern with you. I'll break a trail and you follow us. Come on. A snow-smothered trail not far from Chimney Butte. Four-mounted outlaws struggled against the blinding storm. The gray and white film of the blizzard was all around them. It limited their vision to an ominous and shrinking circle that writhed and twisted the knife. Pellets of ice and snow stung their faces like buckshot. The coal sliced through chaps and heavy coats like a wedded knife. Finally, their leader called a halt. Oh, hold it. Oh, hold up there. No use of trying to ride any further, it is. What do you mean? I think that's Chimney Butte right ahead. Slide out of those sandals. We'll leave the horses. Now, which way? How do I know? I can't see any further than you. Let's bear to the right. Come on. Butch. Butch, look. What? Right over there. It's a campfire. Well, I'll be. Maybe some cowpokes caught out here on the range. Yeah, yeah, come on. A lucky thing for us, we... Butch! Butch! What's the matter with you? On the other side of that fire. Look. It's Big Mike, see? Why can't he? No, no, it can't be. Mike's dead. We drilled him in. Butch! A! M! Will! No, Mike, no. You're dead. It's Big Mike, all right. Look at the way he's staring at us. Drop those guns and come over here with your hands up. All of you. Mike, you dirty buzzard. If I have to kill you twice, I'll do it. Oh, my shoulder. Go on, blast him. What's the matter with you? Mike's dead, Butch, and I ain't gonna trade that with a ghost. Let's get out of here. You heard me. Walk over here and keep your hands up. What the? It's... It's masked. Hey, are you, Mike? Who are you? It worked just as you thought it would. The poor of them, eh? So this is the famous hole-in-the-wall gang. Left of it. You fooled them completely by cropping up that picture of Big Mike and spotlighting it with the lantern. It's amazing. A picture? Well, uh... Hey, Butch, you've got worse than a wounded shoulder. There's some rope on the backboard, Toto. Hide them up. Ah, me do it. Now, this storm's getting worse. I think you'd better stay here by the Butte for the rest of the night. Keep the fire going. I'll ride into Medora, bring back the sheriff and some deputies to handle these men. Good. We brought a sack of wood with us. I'll get it for the fire. I wonder what luck your cowboys are having rounding up the cattle. This storm's the worst I've ever seen. I don't know. I'm afraid Ferris and I'll lose a lot of our stock. Too bad. Will you keep on this business of ranching if that happens? I don't know. I may give the whole thing up. Go back east. It's a hard country. Blizzards, outlaws... Not hard, Fred. Just new. Someday, the Badlands, all of the West, will be the greatest country in the world. You seem to be pretty confident. I know it's the truth. Because he's here. He'll always be here. You mean... He wears a mask, Fred. But in reality, he's the true spirit of the West. The Lone Ranger. I'll kill the boy! What you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger, Incorporated. The Lone Ranger.
