A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-yo silver. The Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Tuttle, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early western United States. 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 come the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse, Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again. Come on, children. Let's go, big fellow. The Apache Reservation Jumper, known as Ikor, and three of his followers, were at large again. While scores of posse men and soldiers beat the Badlands in search of the renegades, the Lone Ranger and Tuttle conducted an independent hunt, reasoning that lack of food would drive the Indians from cover. During the second week of the chase, they rode into open range near the Barzee Ranch. Ahead of them, a half-dozen buzzards glided in narrowing circles. Tuttle pointed to the birds of death. Kemosabe, that bad sign when the patch is loose. As yet there have been no reports that Ikor and his braves have murdered anyone. There's something on the ground over there. Looks like the remains of a cow or a horse. We'll stop in this mount. Close enough. Easy stuff. Them cow bones. Ikor men butcher it. You see prints of four pony hoops. When did they kill the animal? Maybe yesterday. We tell better from how dry this piece of hide is. There's a Barzee brand on it. Hmm. Look at the underside. Ah. Brand change. The bottom hook on the Z was added after the first branding. The original brand was a Line 7. That is a figure 7 cross like T. Must be Barzee fellas rustle Line 7 cattle. Line 7 ranch isn't far west of the Barzee. Strange that the rustlers were able to cover up their thefts. Oh. What do we do? We'll investigate later. Oh, which way do you patch his head? West. All right, come on. Easy, big fella. Easy fella. Come on, fill it. Come on, cow. The Line 7 was one of the biggest ranches in the territory, numbering its longhorns by tens of thousands. Owned by the Great Western Cattle Company, a New York syndicate, it was managed by Tom Avery, a small man who wore high boot heels to increase his height and bitterly resented any references to his size. Sitting on the ranch house veranda, his ridiculous boot heels hooked in the rungs of a chair, he watched with narrowed eyes as Cork McCool, his six-foot foreman, came up from the corral with long strides. Hey, boss. I got a telegram for you I picked up in town. Here. Telegrams always mean trouble. Yeah. What's it say? Trouble, all right. The company is sending me an accountant. You mean a fellow who goes over the boots? That's it. He's someone who's related to a company bigwig and needs a change of climate, so they're saddling us with him. Then you don't think the company's suspicious? No, the Line 7's been showing a neat profit, in spite of the cattle we've rustled off to the bar Z. But we can't let that accountant see the books. Yeah, we can fool any greenhorn when it comes to cattle, Corks. Maybe. But we had to have the bar Z as an outlet for rebranded cattle. And I had to lift company cash to buy that spread. I can't hide the shortage so that fellow won't find it. So that's how it stands, huh? I aim to put the money back this fall, when we sold the Russell stock to the Apache Indian Agency. Yeah, fall's a long way off. Uh, when's this season of coming? Let's see. Nate Cartwright's his name. And I'm to meet him in Redstone Saturday. Um, maybe you could cover the shortage by destroying the count books and ledgers. Oh, that wouldn't help. He'll bring records with him. The reports I've had to send east. Cork, we've got to kill him. You can't plug him on the way back to the ranch. Don't be an idiot, Cork. I'd be seen leaving town with him, and he'd be missed. The company would get suspicious. Sheriff, too. Eh, I guess the less talk there is, the better off we'll all be. I want to fix it to look like Ikor and his Apache renegades did for Cartwright. Hey, that's a smart idea. Now, let's see. You and three of the boys will rig up like Apaches and lay an ambush at Crystal Spring. When we stop there to water our horses, you'll drill him. Oh, now, wait a minute. You'll be the one to report the killing, so why not just say we were Indians and save us a lot of bother? Told you the thing has to look right. I don't want anyone questioning my work. Oh, now, look, boss. I'll have a good witness along. And you let that witness get a glimpse of you. I'm not showing myself to somebody you might shoot. Now, don't worry about that. It'll be the schoolteacher I have along. Oh. Well, if it's Miss Edna, then I'll play the game. You get Dusty York and a couple of boys from the Bar Z to help you and do your dressing up over there. Another thing, I want you to use unshod ponies so the trail will look like Indians made it. But don't leave signs that can be followed too far. All right, boss. That Easter news is good as dead right now. The following Saturday, Nate Cartwright rode out of Redstone to stir up with a pretty schoolteacher who had been picked to witness his death. Ahead of them, Avery set the pace, ignoring the accountant. But Miss Edna, recognizing the pale, bespeckled stranger as one of her kind, had been quick to take a friendly and protective interest in him. She was saying... Relax, friend. Your horse won't throw you. That's good news, Miss Edna. I know about the tricks that are played on Tentafete. I thought he might buck. I rode that thorough when I first started teaching out here. His channel is a lamb. I understand you stay at the ranch house. But where do you teach? Oh, there's a company school. Most of my pupils are children of Mexican labors. The American riders are all single, thank heaven. Why do you say that? Well, they aren't the kind who'd make decent husbands and fathers. Some are professional gunmen. Do you mean our company hires killers? Every big cattle company does. They're needed to fight off Indians and rustlers, nesters and sheepmen. Oh, Tom's slow enough. We'll turn here and cut over to Crystal Spring. Horses need water. But Tom, it's dangerous to leave the trail with those Bronco Apaches around. Apaches? Don't get spooked, mister. There's only four renegades and the army's after them. This way. Get up. Meanwhile, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, holding their horses in check, approached a hilltop which overlooked the spring. After losing the Apaches trail less than a mile from the remains of the rustled longhorn, they had spent days in futile search, only to come upon the tracks of four unshod ponies again. As Tonto studied the prints, the masked man said, Trail is leading toward the spring. Ye core plenty bold to go there. Maybe this track of friendly Indians. Oh, friendly Indians have been warned not to travel. Soldiers might shoot them on sight. Them tracks, only a few minutes old. We can see the spring from this hilltop. Right up, Tonto. Oh, it's good, old fella. Easy. Kimisabi. Yes? Look. There are four riders down there. Them wear breech clout and Apache headband. Yes, but they're not Indians. They don't ride with their heels to their horses, toes out. Ah. Them fellas, white men, used to stirrups. Only fool put on disguise like that. They've stopped and dismounted. Now them hiding rocks above spring. What we do? Get down. He's a big fella. He's a good fella. We're closing on them afoot. Unaware that they themselves were being stalked, the masquerading killers settled themselves in their hiding place. Cork McCool was armed with a .45-70 Sharp, a type of single-shot rifle that the renegades were known to use. Examining the sights, he said, I'll do the shooting, boys. We don't want the greenhorn riddled. Why not? The Apaches haven't got ammunition to waste. We're playing this smart, Dusty. Oh, I savvy. I'm out of practice with a shoulder buster, but I won't miss. Say, that's a lot. They're coming. Yeah, they're dismounting. I got that tender foot in my sights. Look up there. That's a signal to shoot. Here it goes. Don't pull that trigger. Hey, look behind us. Masked man and injured. Hold him off. I'm getting that Easter. No, you don't. Don't try it again. Hands up. All of you. Don't shoot. We're not set to draw. My rifle's smashed. Watch them, Tutto. Wait, you people down there. We've captured this gang. Come here and look at them. I'll be right. Why are they dressed as Indians? Oh, wait. Let me explain. I'm Avery, manager of the Line 7 spread. I planned this as a joke on our Eastern friend here. Oh, yes. That's it. We just wanted to scare the pilgrim. You shot a hole through my hat. Who are you? Nate Cartwright, a company accountant, just in from New York. And this is Miss Edna Stone, the schoolteacher. She had no part in this affair. Of course I didn't. I think it's an outrage. Avery, how do you explain that bullet hole? The slug ricocheted. I heard it. Of course it did. I ain't 20 feet from the Easterners' head. Well, let's all forget it. Now, mask man, suppose you put away your guns and do some explaining yourself. You look like an owl hoot to me. My actions speak for themselves. Come on, Toto. Ah. It looked like joke on us, Kimisabi. Attempted murder is no joke, Toto. Why you say that? Cowboys don't go to the trouble of riding unshod ponies just to put over a joke. Another thing. That bullet was aimed at Cartwright. Oh, you know. After a heavy, sharp bullet ricochets from a rock, it's so badly battered that it tears a large, ragged hole in anything soft that it hits. The hole in Cartwright's hat was clean cut. Oh. Why did them fellas want to kill him before him get to ranch? Avery must be engaged in some criminal activity that Cartwright would discover. Maybe him steal line seven cattle. It's a possibility. I couldn't warn Cartwright without putting Avery and his gunman on guard. And I doubted whether I'd be believed. They'll try again to get rid of him. Me think schoolteacher like him. Her presence should protect him until tonight. Then we'll get him out of Avery's hands. Maybe Apache get away if we help Eastern, huh? The Apaches are the lesser of two evils. Monsilver! 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. That night, Avery and Cort McCool met by prearrangement at the corral fence. Behind them in the ranch office, which occupied part of the commissary building, lamps burned brightly. The foreman glanced over his shoulder. Hey, boss. Is that Easterner going over the books already? He sure is. I tried talking him out of it. Saying he was tired and upset. All to rest a few days. But he had his head set on seeing what his job would be like. Did you give him the key to the safe? Couldn't refuse without making him and Edna suspicious. She was in the office at the time. Is she still there? No, she went to the house later. Everyone but us in Cartwright is asleep, I mean. It looks like the school man has put her brand on the greenhorn. All she sees in him is that he's bigger than me. But she won't be seeing that tomorrow. And what are we going to do about him now? Just follow me. And where are we heading? Into the office. Oh, still working, Cartwright? I see you're counting the cash. Anything wrong? Why, uh... I guess not. You haven't been using a standard bookkeeping system, and I'm a bit puzzled. I know, don't you? They're drawing your gun. That's my equalizer, fella. Don't! Don't! Of course, you knocked him cold with your gun barrel. That's what I figured to do. Now we'll put out the lamps and pour coal oil over the floor. All right, but what's the idea? I wanted to look like he fell asleep and burned to death by accident. The books will burn, too, and nobody will be the wiser. What about that money? I'm taking the currency. We'll have to leave the gold to be found in the ashes. What are you doing, Cork? Making a trail of lamp oil back to the commissary. Stocked with more oil, blasting powder, and all kinds of stuff that'll explode and burn like fury. The minute we touch her off, we'll beat it to bed and let somebody else discover the fire. I'm through here. And I'll light this pile of papers. There she goes. Come on. As the crooks fled from the flaming office, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, who had forestalled a previous attempt on Cartwright's life, rode out of a cottonwood grove near the ranch buildings. The Indian was explaining. When me scout around place, me hear talk that Cartwright got room this end housed. Where's that light coming from? That office. Commissary. Maybe somebody working there. It isn't lamp light. The place is on fire. Come on, silver. I'm out, scout. Oh, silver. Oh, easy. Easy, fella. Easy, fella. Easy. There's someone inside. I can see him through the window. Human floor. Around the door. The door is locked. We break it. We hit it together. All right, now, Tonto. Into it. In Cartwright. I'll get him. Tonto, you grab those ledgers. Let me get him. Here. He's not burned. He's not out. We've got to get him away. I'll take him on my horse. Silver, easy. Easy, big fella. Stand back. Come on, Tonto. Get him on. Get him away. They're getting away. Here come the boys from the bunkhouse. Hey, what happened, Tom? The masked man and Indian just rode off with Cartwright. They must have held up the office and knocked a lamp over fighting him. Nate was hurt. Get your horses, boys. We'll fix them, fellas. Tommy's got to watch the other buildings. The Mexicans can do that. Now, get going. What's that place ahead? It's the schoolhouse. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. Pull up. I will stop here. Them fellas from Rand soon follow us. Cartwright is in no condition to be moved like this. His skull may be fractured. If we leave him, Avery will kill him for sure. I'll take him into the schoolhouse and make a stand there. Or you go to Redstone and get a doctor and the sheriff. You've got a big fight ahead. Me not likely leave you. We have no choice. Adios, Kimo Sabe. Adios. Get him up. Come on. Get up. Get up. Come on. Get up there. Edna, why did you tag along? I brought some medicine. They don't need it. Others may too. This is no place for a woman. You've got to go back. Try and make me go. Three shots, boss. That means the boy's up ahead of firing something. They're waiting for us. Hold on. Hold on. What's up, fellas? Just circled the schoolhouse. Two horses went up there and only one left. A paint horse. The masked man rode a white stallion. He's the one we've got holed up. Oh, Nate must be in the schoolhouse, too. What are we going to do? Off your horses, everyone. We'll surround the place. Come on, you barzy men. We'll cover the back. Corks bring our boys out along the front and side. All right, boss. Tom, you've got to give him a chance to surrender for Nate's sake. That milksop is probably dead. Shut up, Edna. The schoolhouse is surrounded. Come on out and give up. Firemen! Before the arrival of Avery and his gang, the masked man had barricaded the doors and windows with benches, knocked loopholes through the chinking of the log walls, and placed the hapless cartwright in the safest position possible. As the battle broke in full fury, he circled the room, firing from one side, then another. Bullets thudded into the stout walls and shattered window glass. Its cord cut by lead, a picture of President Grant crashed to the floor. Hard-pressed to keep the attackers from storming the building, the Lone Ranger was unable to minister to the unconscious man, but managed to feel his wrist and forehead at intervals. Toward midnight, Cartwright roused enough to mutter, My canteen's empty, friend. I'll try to get my Sedna for you. Stumbling through the darkness and gun smoke, the masked man felt for a rope he knew was dangling near the door. He found it and pulled. Above him, the school bell pealed out, calling a recess from battle. Avery and the foreman, lying side by side, Winchesters trained on the doorway, heard the sound with exultation. Boss, he's going to give up! When he comes out, I'll pump him full of lead. You'll be ready to rush in and finish off Cartwright if he isn't dead. Ah, savvy. Hold it, Miss Edna! Don't answer him, Edna! Here I am! Your friend is asking for you! He wants water! I'll bring it! I've got a canteen! No, Edna, it's a trick! He'll hold you hostage! Open the door! The rest of you, stay back! What if that Easterner tells her you hit him, boss? Stop her, Cork! Not me. I'm close enough to that building. He's letting her in! Quit, you fools! You'll hit her! There she's inside. Where is he? I'll guide you to him, Miss. This way. He's here, behind a pile of books. There. There he is. Oh, Nate! Nate, I'm here! Speak to me! He's lost consciousness again. He's dead! Killed him! No, Miss Edna, he's not dead. Feel his pulse. You killed him! You're hysterical. He's not dead. I took him from the burning building. Avery's responsible for that fire. Don't tell me that. You robbed the office and you started the fire. You took Nate out of his protection. So that's Avery's story, huh? Don't move. I have you covered. You'd better lower that gun. Stand right where you are. I'll shoot if you move. Yes, I think you might. Tom, come! Don't you move! Don't budge me! That's it, Edna. Good work. Now, we've got guns on him. Take his guns, Cork. Edna, where's Cartwright? He's dead. There. What? Yeah, I got his guns. Good work, Edna. Any lamps in his place? Yes. They're in the shelf. I'll light it. What are you going to do with this mask ombudsman? Stretch his neck. Grab that bell rope, Dusty. Pull it down. He'll let this critter ring for his own funeral. I got the rope. Wait! Tom, don't let him hang him. What's the matter, Edna? You captured him. But I don't want him hanged, not without a fair trial. Leave things to us. No, Tom. You better get her out of here, boy. Yeah. Come on, Edna. Let me go, Tom. I'll not leave here not to hang a man without a trial. That's murder. Now, listen, you be sensible. You're leaving here if I have to drag you. You're not dragging anyone, you... Tom Avery. What's the matter? Your clothes, they smell of coal oil. What? You started the fire. That's what I was waiting for. I'll take those guns. Hold him. I got away. Grab him. No, you don't. Who got me? Freeze, all of you. Get him up. Now, look. You too. Get his gun, Edna. Yes. You side with that masked man and you'll regret it. I'll take that chance, Tom Avery. I think you're the one who told the lies. Who is that? That's Braley with a spring wagon he uses for an ambulance. Hey, Tom, the sheriff and some of the deputies are with him. I are, this bushing. Just leave it to me, boys. We are not licked yet. What's going on here? Sheriff, disarm that masked man. He's committed robbery, arson, and murder. Murder? No, no. Come on over here, doctor. I think this man is still alive. Sheriff, why don't you do something? Make that masked man surrender his guns. Get your hands up. All of you. Do just as the masked man says. I've got your books, Avery. This engine saved him from the fire. You can't prove anything by them unless you find out how much cash there was on hand. And you'll never know that. Maybe not. But he also brought in a piece of cowhide that shows a Bar Z brand made over from a line seven. Can't blame me for that. Dusty York in the Bar Z outfit must have rustled that critter. What? Well, since you're here, Dusty, what about it? That sawed-off polecat can't hang it all on us. We just run the Bar Z for him. He bought it with money he stole from his company. Cork McCool told me that. Then Cork's a liar. Why, you... Likely he's been helping you wrestlers raid the line seven herds. You got anything to say, Cork? I sure have. Here I am with a busted wing and he turns on me. Well, it was him who clubbed the bookkeeper. And he's got all the company's paper money on him right now. Sheriff, I think you have your case even if Cartwright dies. He won't, mister. Make way for the structure. All right, get out to him. Mister, I want to thank you and your Indian friends for saving Nate's life. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry that your schoolhouse has been turned into a shambles. But what happened here should be an object lesson to your pupils. That even the cleverest criminal is a fool. Horses ready, Kemosabe. Good enough. Sheriff, what's the latest word about E. Corr and his renegades? Well, that sly old redskin sneaked back onto the reservation a week ago without us knowing it. Peers that he only wanted to get some meat for the hungry squaws and kids. We can be thankful he took it where he did. Thanks, Sheriff. That's all I wanted to know. Wait, mister. Wait, come back here. No use, miss. He won't come back. His job is done. But, Sheriff, who is that masked man? The engine told me, Miss Edna, he's the Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger, Incorporated. Created and produced by George W. Trendle. Directed by Charles D. Livingston. And edited by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer. Aqui is the Lone Ranger. There she may be. The Lone Ranger. There she may be. There she may be. There she may be. You are all yours. There she may be. You are all ours. мин�� met this board. In the first Scottish and modernlev land. Here we go. You are the most innocent and rich. There she may be. Here we go.
