A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty house, Silver, the Lone Ranger. With his 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 and the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse, Silver, the Lone Ranger rides again! Come on, Silver! Let's go, big fellow! It was late afternoon. In the small mining settlement of Blue River, U.S. Deputy Marshal Neil Baker stood in the open doorway of the Wells Fargo Express office, talking to the agent, Jim Raleigh. Raleigh was busy behind the counter, getting ready to close the office for the day. And in the doorway, as the Deputy Marshal spoke, his eyes traveled constantly up and down the narrow, dusty street. You can go on home whenever you're ready to close up, Jim. You look like you could take on some rest yourself. Well, I'll take on plenty of sleep, after I take care of Thunder Morgan. Yeah, that big wing bag. It's been almost a week since you got that note. You ought to be satisfied by now it was a bluff. Yeah, maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't. I never in all my life heard of a man aiming to commit a robbery and writing to the law to tell him about it in advance. You don't savvy this Morgan fellow like I do, Jim. Hiya, Marshal. Still waiting for Thunder Morgan to rob the express office? No, you numbskull. I'm getting ready to rob the place myself as soon as you get out of sight. Well, that ain't a bad idea. Might make yourself a lot on the Zoma. A dim-witted buzzard. I tell you, Neil, that note Morgan sent you, if it was Morgan that sent me... I'm satisfied it was. Well, that was just meant to get on your nerves. He's probably planning some job a hundred miles away. Get out there. Get out there. And let me tell you something, fella. Thunder Morgan's been in jail once in his life, Savvy. Yeah? Yeah. And it was me that put him there. Oh. Never knew that before. He's a bad hombre, Jim. Plum poison through and through. And he's plenty powerful. Any way you want to look at it. You're telling me what everybody knows. Everybody don't know Thunder Morgan like I do. And I'm telling you right here and now, he ain't never been known to bluff. He ain't, huh? There's only one thing that buzzard enjoys more than breaking the law. And that's laughing in the face of the law. You mean if he was to send you a note and say that he was going to rob the way... Well, then, no, we've forgotten it. He's already done that. Yeah, but if he was to go ahead and do it, that'd set him in plenty solid with his gang. Morgan's a loudmouth. Always was. But he's a killer. And he's been known to risk his neck before, to make good a brag. Well, you're going to stay, huh? I've been here every night for a week. The minute you close the office, till you come back next morning. When a Mr. Thunder Morgan comes along, you'll find me waiting for him with a six-gun in each fist. Well, I'll go on and lock the door. Sure don't envy you sitting up here in the dark all night. Yeah, don't you feel sorry for me. That's my job, and I'm doing what I get paid for. But any time that loudmouth owl hooter thinks he can put one up... Hey! You ain't closing up already, are you? You bet I am, mister. What's on your mind? Got a trunk here to ship out by express. Well, hustle up and get it in here. Won't go out till morning anyway. Come on, Joe. Let's get it inside. Set it over on the scales. I'll weigh it up and give you the charges. Where's it go to? Address is on the label. Goes to St. Louis. There, Joe. Set it down on the scales. St. Louis, huh? Pretty heavy for express. Let's see. 200. 220. 260 pounds. How much will it be? Now, let me figure a minute. Have to charge her for 300. That'll come to, uh... Let me see. $16. All right. Mm-hmm. Come on, Joe. Help me set this over here out of the way. Yeah, sure. Huh? Much obliged to you, mister. Yeah, sure. Well, good night, Neil. See you in the morning. Good night. Throughout the evening, the deputy marshal sat in the darkened express office. From time to time, he arose from his chair and went to the window to glance up and down the partially lighted street. He studied the heavy iron bars that covered each window and examined the stout oaken bars across the front and rear doors. Regularly, to relieve the tension, the lawman drew the heavy .45 from its holster and examined it with the utmost care. And then, slowly, in the faint yellow light that filtered in from the street, the lid of the big trunk in the corner opened, slowly and noiselessly. A moment later, Neil Baker stopped abruptly as his keen ears detected a slight sound. Then, as the lawman whirled about... Oh, what's up for you, law dog? Oh, Morgan! Sure. You didn't figure I was going to disappoint you, did you? Too bad some of you tin stars don't believe what a fella tries to tell you. They found Deputy Marshal Neil Baker in the morning, lying where he'd fallen, with a knife in his back. On the counter was a note, written in the hand of Thunder Morgan. Next time you hear from Thunder Morgan, don't make the mistake of thinking that he's bluffing. Baker never thought he was bluffing. I know, but the rest of us did. And it cost Neil Baker his life. What about the strong box? That go on, too? Of course. Maybe we can get the strong box back. Baker. He ain't never coming back. Not ever. What's to be done about it, Jim? We telegraphed the United States Marshal at Sweetwater. We can send another telegram to the Army outpost at Rio. While we're waiting for them to show up, we can get a posse together and... What's the matter? What's your stare in there? We've been wondering how Thunder Morgan managed it. This trunk is the answer. What's the trunk got to do about it? Two men festered in here last night. The one that shipped to St. Louis this morning on the eastbound. And I remember weighing it in. Two hundred and sixty pounds it was. What? You mean to say you think... I don't think I know. You can see for yourself that it's empty, can't you? Most of that two hundred and sixty pounds was Thunder Morgan's murdering carcass. The dirty, rotten killer. Come on. Who wants to volunteer for posse duty? Well, then let's get started. Hey, you, Indian. You want to ride with us? Oh, never mind the redskin, Jim. He's probably scared to death he'll meet up with Thunder Morgan. It was nearly an hour later when the Indian Tonto reined his lathered paint horse to a plunging stop at a secluded campsite high up in the Cascade Hill country. Ho, ho, scoundrel, ho, fella. Ho, ho, fella, ho. Kimo Sabe. Hi, Kimo Sabe. What's happened, fellow? Thunder Morgan, fellow. Him go to Blue River, kill the United States Deputy Marshal, and rob Expressoff. Morgan? How do you know it was Thunder Morgan, Tonto? Tonto hear fellows talk in town. Them same Morgan, fellow, write note to lawmen. Make big talk and what him do. Sounds like something he'd do. How did he manage to make good his boast? Did anyone take the threat seriously? Ah, Neil Baker. Him stand guard at Expressoffice for most a week. Then last night, two fellows come to Expressoffice with big trunk, wanted shipped away. Inside the trunk, they carried the man who had sworn to kill, Neil Baker. That's right. And during the night, Morgan, fellow, get out of trunk, kill lawmen, then rob Expressoffice and get away. Yes, Oliver? Well, Fargo, fellow, him sent telegraph to U.S. Marshal at Sweetwater. And to soldiers at Rio. What's that, big fellow? It'll all be needed if it comes to a showdown with Morgan's gang. Ah, outlaws have plenty big hideout in hills. That's just it. One or two men will stand a better chance of finding that hideout than a whole troop of soldiers. There. Ready? Uh-huh. He's ready. Big fellow, let's go. Get him up. Come on, Silver. Across the length and breadth of the territory, the telegraph wires flashed the news that Thunder Morgan had made good another boast. Once more, the Desperado laughed at the law, the law that he hated and which hated him. And then, one of the greatest manhunts in all the history of that lawless country was begun. From the south through 40 miles of burning desert land came the cavalrymen. While in Sweetwater, the Overland Stage Company quickly turned out a special coach to carry the United States Marshal and his deputies to the scene of the crime. Meanwhile, riding deeper and deeper into the treacherous Cascade Country, the mask rider and his faithful companion, Tonto, searched constantly for some sign of the fugitive. Plenty of places in the hill for many men to hide. Plenty of places for an ambush, too. Tonto, keep sharp watch, Kim Masabi. A dozen men with rifles could hold up. Tonto, look. Me see it. Moskau, hold on. Easy. Unless I'm badly mistaken, that's a strong box that was stolen from Wells Fargo last night. Me get it. No sign of trail near here. Then we'll find the trail we're looking for up above. The box was smashed open by someone at the top of the ridge and discarded. Moskau, get him up, scound. Urging their horses up the steep incline, the lone ranger and Tonto swiftly covered the short distance to the top. Unaware of the man who lay sprawled beneath a sheltering brush, his cold, beady eyes watching them draw closer, his hands clutching a rifle that pointed unwaveringly at the masked man's broad chest. Oh, Silver, oh, boy. Easy. Oh, Shosh. Oh, Shosh. Oh, Shosh. Oh, Shosh. Oh, Father. Kim Masabi, look. See dead horse over there? Yes, I see him, Tonto. Senses are it was Thunder Martin's horse, ridden to death by that crazy killer. Amigo, look. Maybe find trail where Pella goes. Hold it right there above here. What's that? Do that. Make one move and you'll find a trail you ain't never traveled before. This rifle's got a hair trigger. If you don't want the buzzers to have more than a dead horse, you better do what you're told. Careful, Tonto. You haven't told us what to do yet. Now tell you first. Put your hands up on that and step out of the saddle. All right. What's over? Easy, boy. Now you, Redskin. You do the same and no tricks. Now you there, big fella. I'm taking this white horse of yours, Savvy. That all? Are you? I said I was, didn't I? Don't neither one of you move a muscle if you don't want to get blasted to kingdom come? Hey. What's the idea of the mask, huh? I'm thinking you must be Thunder Morgan. Never mind answering questions with more questions. I ask you what the mask's for. You are a Thunder Morgan. It's rather a stupid question. What? Thunder Morgan would have pretty definite ideas about the use of a mask. Well, just in case it means anything to you, gents. I am Thunder Morgan, see? I also got pretty solid notions about how to use this rifle. And if you don't, what else? 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 saw the sudden insane gleam that lighted the man's eyes before him. He noted, too, the convulsive tightening of Thunder Morgan's finger on the trigger finger. And as he shouted a warning to his companion, the masked man's right hand drove with blinding speed for the holster. You lack plenty fast, Kimo. Get a shotgun, Tonto. Let me get out. What happened? Maybe Thunder Morgan meet lightning, huh? And you hold still and me get guns. Yeah, but I don't savvy. I had a drop on your coal. Like you've had a coal drop on too many men before, Morgan. Yeah, it ain't possible. Smash my rifle before I could even squeeze a trigger. Tie his hand behind his back, Tonto. He can ride your horse back to town. You and I'll ride silver. Hey, wait a minute. You call the engine Tonto and the horse at silver, huh? So I reckon you must be the Lone Ranger. Hey, hey, take it easy. Now you hold still. Tonto, tie you, good killer. Well, I'll be. You should have plugged up both of you when you started up the ridge. Hey, what do you think you're doing, engine? Fix him, Tonto. Kimo Sabe. Here. This money he can take from the express office. Put it in my saddlebags, Tonto. You, Morgan, get on that paint. You're going back to Blue River to stand trial for murder. Yeah? Always turn your prisoners over to the law, huh? Get aboard that paint and get started. Before I remembered that Neil Baker was a friend of mine. Sure. Sure, Mr. Lone Ranger. I'll ride your partner's paint pony to the jail. And after I get there, I'll be riding one of my own horses back to the hill. You, Thunderfella, make too much thunder with mouth. Now you get on horse or walk. Sure. You'll have to give me a boost. Kind of tough getting aboard with my hands tight. Oh, Scout, hold on a horse. Now, give you good bath in brook, Scout. After you carry skunk. You fellas ever hear of Thunder Morgan making a brag that didn't hold good? Meaning what? Meaning that you can't find a jailhouse strong enough to hold me, that's what. Steady, big fella. Let's go, Tonto. Come on, Silver. Morgan, you're likely to spoil your record if you start bragging about how you're going to break out of jail. I don't have to break out. I got plenty of men ready and willing to do that job for me, Masked Man. Right now, you'd better concentrate on staying in that saddle. Get up, Scout. Come on, Silver. It was late afternoon when the Lone Ranger and Tonto came out of the hills with their prisoner. The outlaw had never failed to make good on a boast. For more than an hour, Thunder Morgan had been bragging. As the man talked, an idea was forming in the mind of the masked writer. I tell you, I won't be in that calaboose five minutes before someone in my gang will know about it. And then you're going to see... Hold, Silver, hold, Scout, hold. What are you stopping for? You've given me an idea, Morgan. A wonderful idea. Hello. Ah. This is where you change horses. You and Morgan take Scout and go to our camp. Ah. But what do you do, Kemosabe? I'm going to see if just once we can't spoil one of Thunder Morgan's schemes. We're trying to see you. I don't meet you at camp within an hour after dark. Take your prisoner to Blue River and turn him over to the marshal. Hey, what's the idea? Can you hang on, seller? That's a pretty good idea for you. Get him up, Scout. The cavalrymen from the Rio outpost, under the command of Lieutenant John Frisbee, had covered more than 30 miles of unbelievably tough country since morning. Now, as the commanding officer stood in the stirrups and signaled a halt... The men stared at the figure, which came racing with breathtaking speed toward them. A masked man. Oh, Silver, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. Lieutenant Frisbee. Get your hands up, mister, and state your business. My business has to do with Thunder Morgan. And so does ours. If you're one of these men... Try to catch an outlaw up in the Cascades, Lieutenant. What, Nick? It'll be dark before you get into the hills tonight. If your men aren't ambushed before daylight, you'll find the men you're after have disappeared. Disappeared? Easy, Silver, Thunder Morgan's band of outlaws know where and how to hide when they have to. We'll worry about them later. Right now, we're interested in one man alone. Thunder Morgan. And I can take you to him in less than an hour. So, you're selling out the big chief, huh? I'll help you to corral the whole bunch if you'll let me. A minute ago, you made some remark about my men being ambushed. You got ideas along that line? You can keep a gun on my back if you're worried about that. You want me to take you to Thunder Morgan? Where is he? Follow me, Lieutenant. Paul Silver. What the... Coopers! Ta-ee, Kimo Sabe. Ta-ee. Hey, you bring soldiers to take Morgan, Thunder? Yes, they're taking him, Tonto. But not as is. Here's your man, Lieutenant. You really have got Thunder Morgan a prisoner. I didn't believe you. Neither did he when we first met. Hey, what's the idea? What... Get those ropes off of him, Tonto, and hurry it up. What kind of business? Shut up, killer. I'm taking your clothing. What? You're going to take my clothes? What floor? To find out if that gang of yours is as good as you seem to think. What do you mean? You said they'd know you were in jail five minutes after you got there. They wouldn't waste any time in breaking you out. Sure, but... They're going to know that Thunder Morgan's in jail, but they won't know that I'm taking his place. Till after we find your hideout. And meanwhile, Morgan, you'll be on your way to Rio with a squad of troopers. Lieutenant, will you go ahead into Blue River and get everything arranged with the Marshal? You bet I will. As soon as I get into Morgan's clothes and ton of disguise as my face, you'll bring me in with my hands tied behind me. I'll see that the Marshal knows what's up. More important, make sure there's no one around the jail when Morgan's men come to get me out. Don't worry. All right. Come on, Tonto. Let's hurry. It was nearly midnight when Tonto, riding his paint horse and leading a plain-looking horse barred from a cavalry trooper, rode up the single street of Blue River with his prisoner. As he came up to the jail, the Marshal stepped out onto the street and said loudly, Hey, what the? Who you got there, Injun? Me catch Thunder Morgan, fella. Bring him to jail. Morgan? Well, I'll be done. Thunder Morgan. Hey, come see. Some Injun just brought in Thunder Morgan. Hurry up. Let's get inside. There'll be a crowd here in jig time and they might be in an ugly temper. Right, silly big fella. Come on. Get a move on. Hurry inside. Right. Remember, Tonto, it's going to be up to you to lead the troopers to the hideout. Ah. Me be watching and waiting for Morgan. Hurry up. Let me get you locked in here. Sure. See you later. I've got to quiet down this mob out here. Come on, Tonto. You better get out of sight before they start asking a lot of questions. With my two eyes, I tell you. Now, before any of you get any notions in your head, let me say that I got Thunder Morgan in jail and I aim to keep him there. Anybody gets different ideas is likely to run into trouble. You'll all get a chance to look at him when he goes to the courthouse for trial. Well, right now, you better get along home. It was still dark when Thunder Morgan's men appeared silently, dismounted, and made their way swiftly to the Blue River Jail. They'd come prepared for any amount of resistance and were obviously surprised to find the place deserted, except for the big man who was a prisoner in the cell. Oh, what the? The place is deserted. Hey, boss. Hurry up and get me out of here. You fellas keep a sharp lookout. I'm going in. Sure, of course we did. But you mean to say there ain't even a guard around here watching you? Did you come for a shitting scrape or to get me out of here? I don't get sore. Don't... Who's got the key? Never mind the key, you fool. Use your six gun and blast the loctopieces. It'll be awful noisy, boss. No noisier than you are. Hurry up. All right, if you say so. Stand back. Go ahead. All right, I did it. Let's go. Here's your horse. Back here. Good, now let's go. Get up. Daylight was not far off and the band of outlaws rode into the hideout, the secret hideaway which the lawmen had never been able to find. Immediately, the big man who rode in the lead with Thunder Morgan's lieutenants rained his horse to one side and issued sharp orders. Just get inside and start packing. We're pulling out. What? Say, what in the blazes has come over you, boss? You've been acting like a... What did I tell you? I feel like explaining I will. Now get busy. We're leaving here inside an hour. What's the idea? Completely bewildered by the attitude of the man, who they believed to be their leader, the men hurried and began packing their gear. And in a short time, they were assembled outside, ready to ride. Where's the boss? Anybody seen Thunder? No, I ain't seen him since we pulled in. If you ask me, he's acting plenty low. Well, there ain't nobody asking you. Look out! Or you'll die like rats in a trap. Hold it. Hold it, you fools. There's half a hundred men up there. They got us surrounded. All right, men. Get the guns. We'll take them to Troy, their boss, Thunder Morgan. Hey, soldier. What happened to Morgan? Where is he? Let's just say that your friend Thunder ran into a streak of lightning and let it go at that. What you have just heard is a copy of... ...the copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger, Incorporated. The Lone Ranger, Incorporated. The Lone Ranger, Incorporated. The Lone Ranger, Incorporated.
