A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-oh silver. The Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, 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, Silver. Let's go, big fellow. Come on, Silver. For an hour, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, riding toward Modoc City, had known that there was a horseman on the hilly trail not far ahead of them. The masked man and his Indian friend breasted a rise and saw just below them the dead horse. That horse has been ridden to death. There are boot tracks leading toward that pile of rocks. Easy, big fellow. Easy, scott, easy. Cut to the left. We'll approach from two sides. There's a man there. We'll get him. Please have it. Come on to those rocks. We won't harm you. Get back. Get back or I'll shoot. Steady there. I know from your voice that you need help. You're not fooling me, Al. Don't let my mask mislead you. What's your trouble? I'll show you. We got you, fellow. You drop gun, Tonto. Hold on to him, Tonto. Let loose some meal. Looks as though you haven't eaten or rested for days. Don't kill me. Easy, man, easy. We're friends. We'll have something for you to eat shortly. Food? You really mean it. I haven't had any chuck for a week. Are you a fidgety from justice? No. The law don't want me. Turn me over to the sheriff while I care. I'm broke. I'm hungry and sick. Who are you? Smith. Joe Smith. I'm over at Ron Denver. I doubt that you're telling everything, Smith, if that's your name. But you can ride double with me to town. I have a friend in Modoc City, a Mrs. Henry, who keeps a hotel. She'll board and lodge you until you're able to work and pay her back. Several nights later, the ragged and unshaven wretch who called himself Joe Smith became a guest of Mrs. Henry's hotel. That poor critter isn't only wore out and thin. He's spooked. Now, I scared to death it appears. I've never seen a gun-shy horse more fidgety than him. I know, Mrs. Henry. Maybe he'll tell me his trouble after I feed him up and gentle him. I hope so. Come on, fellow. You moving on? We're going up into the hills, but we'll be back to check on your lodger. Adios. Adios, Joe. Adios. For a week, the strange guest remained in his room, gradually recovering his strength. Then he appeared in the hotel office at a moment when Ma Hank was there alone. She looked up from a newspaper, startled. Well, if it isn't, Mr. Smith. You fit to be out? I'm feeling some better, ma'am. What's in the paper? I've been reading how the lawman killed Black Bill Devlin, the train robber, over in Pitchford. Seems that Black Bill and three other owl hoots called Sligo, Panface, and Slim Jim were trapped in a livery stable after a stable hand informed on him. Sligo and the other two shot their way out. What else does it say? It even gives the stable hand's name, Rob Osgood. He collected the bounty on Black Bill and Vamoost. You don't need to guess why. I thought they promised not to give out the name of the fellow two-nose outlaws in. They couldn't keep it secret very long, even if they wanted to, which they likely didn't. Yeah, I guess that's so. If that Osgood was half smart, he'd grab the first train east. With all that reward money to live on, he'd be safe there. Maybe he didn't want to leave the West. If that's the case, I'm glad I'm not in his boots. You can be glad, too. Glad? Yeah. Meanwhile, three bearded men who appeared to be miners had taken a table in a secluded corner of the big Paris Café. They had been loathing around town for several days, asking few questions, but listening and watching much. One was saying, Boys, there's no question about it. Rob Osgood is holed up in Modok. Well, Sligo, I don't see it that way. Maybe that fellow we've been trailing isn't him at all. You said something, Panface. The last place we heard anything about the hombre, he was begging grub. Nobody with a lot of bounty money would do that. Slim Jim, it was talked around that the state paid him off in hundred-dollar bills. I reckon he wanted it that way, so it would be easier to carry or to hide. Yeah. Now listen to me. It's hard to break a hundred-dollar note in this country. People are suspicious of any kind of paper money. The man trying to pass money that big would leave a trail a mile wide. Yeah, Sligo's right about that. Then it must be that the squealer ran out of other money and is scared to show what he got for blabbing, huh? That's how I figure it. Suppose we find him. If we drill him here in town, we'll be risking our necks just to square accounts for Black Bill. And he's dead. We gotta plug him on our own account, if not Bill's. If he gets away with this, the next time he'll find out who we are, he'll figure that it's safe to go running to the loan. Yeah, that's so. Another thing, we can use that reward money he's got. Our role's getting mighty thin. What's our next move? We're not moving. We keep on watching and waiting. You the ticket agent, mister? That's me. I want to buy a ticket. New York. Gee, Russell. A hundred-dollar bill. You didn't come with that honestly. It's stolen or a counterfeit. It's good money. It was paid to me. You look it. Please sell me a ticket. It's a matter of life or death. It'll be death if you move. I've got a gun on you. You can't hold me. Stop. Stop that. I missed him. He's running down the tracks, and I can't leave the telegraph. Rob Porter, the proprietor of the Paris Café, wiped off the table at which the surviving members of the Devlin gang were seated. He grinned. Anything else, gents? Nope. Hey, who's that bustin' in here? Hey, it's the agent from the depot. Tom. Tom. Have you seen the marshal? He's out of town. What's wrong? Some tramp tried to pass a hundred-dollar bill on me. Then he run down the tracks, and I threw some lead at his way. Likely, he'll jump the next freight. Well, you don't need the marshal, mister. We'll catch that fellow for you just for fun. Yeah, sure. We've been craving excitement. Come on, boy. A little later, the masked man and his Indian friend reached the stables behind the hotel and drew rain. At the sound of their voices, Ma Hank appeared outside the stall in which she kept a near ton of horse flesh called Puddin' Foot. She hailed them. Howdy, Chase. You're just in time. For what, Mrs. Henry? That spooky fella's disappeared, and there's talk that somebody who looks like him has got into trouble and is being chased down by the railroad tracks. Well, what was the trouble? I didn't hear. I was going to saddle Puddin' Foot and find out. Never mind. We'll look into it. All right, boys. Oh, let's go. They're shooting down the loading pens. Someone has been cornered there. That looks like Smith, fella. Three men are shooting at him. Smith, me, no. You three, hold your fire. Throw down those guns. Hold your fire, fella. You keep on. I told you to throw down your guns. Anyone else want trouble? Hold on, mister. Don't shoot anymore. Easy, big fella. See about Smith, fella. Let me do it. That man's a crook. He's wounded and helpless. Now stay where you are while we look him over. While the Lone Ranger and Tonto examined Smith, the three crooks held a whispered conversation. They knew that there would be no chance at the present to get the money, and decided that they had better play safe. They watched sullenly while Tonto lifted the unconscious man to Scalp's back. He's done for. Might as well let that mask on. He'll have his way, at least for now. Hey, where are you taking that fella? To the hotel. You notify the marshal. We can go? Yes. Come on, boys. Easy, steady, Silver. We'll go too, Tonto. Smith needs a doctor. Come on, Silver. Get him up, Scalp. The wounded man lay on his bed with Doc Davis, the town's physician surgeon, bending over him, and Ma Hank holding a basin of water and bandages. The Lone Ranger and Tonto stood by, thoughtfully waiting the doctor's verdict. He looked up. I could save this man's life if we had a hospital in Modok City. As it is, he'll die within an hour or two. It'd take 12 hours to get him to the nearest hospital, wouldn't it? All of that. Doctor, what was that belt you took from him? I don't know you, Masked Man. What is your interest in him? The Masked Man's of my friend, Doc, and the engine, too. Well, that's what I took from him. Money belt. Let me examine it, will you? Take it. As long as Ma Hank vouchers for you. That's strange. It's filled with greenbacks. He must have it. You've got a hundred-dollar bill in there. Yes, they're all hundreds. They just can't be. Why, he was starving. Oh, he must be crook after all. Doctor, is there any chance that I can get him to... You can try. I've done all I can for him. And he may rally for a while. I see. Smith, this is the Masked Man, your friend. Answer me if you can. Where did you get that money? Money? Black Billy. He booted me once too often. I told on him. Law got him. I got the bomb. Sleekle. Pantface. Slim Jim. They... They got me. You mean you were shot by members of the Devlin gang? Yeah. They... They followed me. You get them, Masked Man. They'll pay. Meet not them fellas. Posse men. Here. Here. I'll try to drink this. You. More Hank. Ten thousand even. Thanks. That's all. He's dead. Poor fella. He must have had a dog's life as a stable boy in a tough livery. And it didn't do him no good to turn on the crooks. Here's the money, Mrs. Henry. I suppose you'll retire now, Marl. Oh, like fun I will. Say, Doc. About how much would it cost to build a hospital here? One that'll be good enough so nobody else has to die. Like him. I can tell you right off, because I've been dreaming about it. Around forty thousand dollars. Ten thousand is subscribed right now. Other people around town ought to be able to kick in the rest with that much in the kitty. Look. Somebody outside window. It's one of the gang. Watch out, Mrs. Henry. Don't, Doc. He's smashing the window. Reach out of here. There's three of us covered you. Look, Q. We got the fellow toled on Black Bill. There he is, Rob Osgood. Forget him, Adornay. How are you, old woman? Let's have bounty money here. Let's go into a hospital, you poor cat. Like Mrs. Henry. Watch out. The best man's drawing. Get him. 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. Ma Hank, the hotel keeper, had pledged the reward money given to her by the dying Rob Osgood to a hospital fund. As she stood beside his body in company with the Lone Ranger, Tonto, and a doctor, the outlaws responsible for his death attempted a holdup. As they fired through a window, the masked man backed toward the door, exchanging shot for shot. All right, come on, Tonto. I'll go out the front way. And me run around back. Hey, the masked man and injured are coming after us. Get out of here. There, you killers. I got in my two shots worth. All right, get away from that window. It's all right. It's all right, Doc. Look, they're running for their horses, but my friends will get them. Late that night, the Lone Ranger and Tonto returned to the hotel, meeting Ma Hank in the kitchen. To her questioning look, the masked man replied, They separated and doubled back to town. The tricky varmints. They must be staying here in Moda. No doubt they are. But we may not know them now if we find them. How's that? Well, we've seen three bearded men who look like miners. But they never showed themselves long enough or close enough. For accurate observation. It's likely that they'll change their appearance. And how we catch them. They want that reward money, Tonto. They also want the world to know why and by whom Osgood was killed. Or they wouldn't have told us. I reckon they want him to be an example. We'll set a double trap for them. I'll explain. Good morning, Ma Hank. Why on earth are you pounding on that powder keg? Oh, don't get scared, Doc. It's empty and I'm fixing a slot in the top so those folks can drop their contributions to the hospital inside. Good idea. I got it from the masked man. He says to put the keg in the Paris Café, that being the biggest and busiest place in Moda. Well, we'll get that hospital yet. Oh, sure we will. Everybody's for it. Splendid. About the dead man. The shooting didn't stir up much talk with the marshal still away. We can bury him today without any questions being asked. My friend wants the grave marked with a nice white board lettered, Joe Smith. Joe Smith, eh? All right, Ma, I'll see you then. As anticipated by the Lone Ranger, the outlaws had remained in Modoc City, occupying an old shack, shaving off their beards, and discarding their miners' outfits for clothes that marked them as ranch hands. Confident that the masked man and Indian would not know them, they boldly walked the streets and were part of the crowd that poured into the Paris Café for the opening of the hospital fund campaign. The contribution keg had been placed in a corner and secured by means of a two-by-four nailed to the walls. Beside it stood Ma Hank. Quiet, quiet down, you folks, quiet. Now, folks, there's a brand-new grave marker on Boot Hill today that bears the name Joe Smith. He was a fellow who died at my place because we couldn't get him to a hospital. Now, what happened to him can happen to you. In the name of Joe Smith, I'm starting this thing off by putting $10,000 into this keg. There it is, and there it goes. Now, it'll take four times that much to build a hospital. But I know you'll follow suit, each according to his ability. This keg will hold anything from a penny to a poke of gold. Step up and sweeten the kitty. Like the fellow says, kick in before you kick off. As the crowd surged forward, almost fighting to reach the keg, the three killers were left by themselves. Sligo scowled. Tell us that old landlady put the bounty money in that keg. Did you hear what she said about that marker on Boot Hill? Well, I thought they heard me say who that fellow was. Well, they didn't, or they wouldn't have buried him as Joe Smith. Looks like it didn't do us much good to plug him. We've got to let it be known who he is and why we put him there. Well, we'll be pushing up daisies ourselves. We can do that before we dust out of town. What are we going to do for money, Sligo? We'll be broken a few days. In a few days, that keg will be full of keg. It could be pried loose with a gun barrel. Well, if we can't hold up a place, it's always crowded with fellas packing guns. It closes for a couple hours before daybreak. And then there's only two old swampers around. Careful, careful. That engine's prowling through the place. Yeah. And the masked man's still in town. Probably keeping under cover at the hotel. Let's ease out of here. I'll come back tonight and see how things look. Well, Sligo, how'd you find things? Good, pan-faced. So good, I don't want any part of a hold up there. What do you mean? I'm too old a wolf to touch anything that looks as easy as that job. There's too much money in that keg for it to be left unguarded. And I didn't see an armed man anywhere around. You think that keg's a bait, huh? I'm dead sure of it. I figure that masked man and the engine are planted in buildings across the street where they can cover the front and side doors with rifles. Well, isn't there a back door? No, no, just a hole where they unload wood into the cellar. I went down there and, well, I found that we couldn't get upstairs without smashing down a heavy door and making a lot of noise. Say, I got an idea. Yeah? If we can get in and out of the cellar without being seen, we can get that money by cutting through the floor and bottom of the keg. We can locate it easy because it's in a coin. Ah, a saw would be heard, Sligo. We don't need a saw. Oh, just get me a brace and some sharp bits and I can cut a big hole through to the money by boring small holes right next to each other. Sure you can. And there won't be any ragged. By golly, we'll do it. We'll do it Friday night. Because Saturday night they figure to open the keg and count the money. We'll sure make a fool out of that masked man. It was Saturday night. Time for the contribution keg to be opened and the money counted. Again, the Paris cafe was packed. Hardly able to conceal their amusement, Sligo Panface and Slim Jim watched from a point of vantage as Tonto appeared near them and Ball Hank approached the keg, a crowbar poised in one hand like an orchestra leader's baton. Who wants to bet there isn't $40,000 in it? $100 says there isn't. And the winner will add it to what's there. How about it, Hop? I cover it. I'm trying the keg loose. There she comes. Now I roll her out where everyone can see the count. Hey, boy, Hank, there's a hole in the bottom. And a hole in the floor. The money's gone. Look here, Hob. Hank, it's too good for the farmers who've done this. They must have cut through for my cellar. Well, didn't your swampers hear anything? Of course, we never heard nothing but rats chewing as usual. But we did see that engine there hanging around outside. And he was a lookout for the gang. You loco critters, that engine's all right. He's a friend of mine. Now get back. Hey, she's going to swing that crowbar. Drop that bar, Ma, Hank. Don't make us hurt you. You folks can't listen to me. Easy, Ma. We know you're not to blame. Well, she sure is. How do you figure it, stranger? She played you fellas for a sucker. That $10,000 she put in the keg was a come on. It went through the hole and back to her with the rest of the money. Quiet, Thunder. I think the stranger's right. And what's more, she's been hiding the masked man at the hotel. He must have been the inside man. You fellas hold on to Ma, Hank, and the engine. We'll see about that masked man. Get him, boss, and we'll settle with all three at one time. Come on, the rest of you. We'll raid the hotel. Come on. And face, it's time me and you and Slim Jim hit for other parts. All right. Let's go. Remote and impersonal, a bright moon splashed its light over the riotous town as the outlaws rode out of Main Street with two saddlebags bulging with booty. They were well satisfied with the results of their evil activities. I'll bet they have a lynching thing. We sure squirt things for everybody and got a nice haul besides. Sligo, what are you heading up Boothill for? We got one more job to do and our score will be perfect. See that bright new grave marker ahead? Yeah, sure. That'll be where they planted Joe Smith. Pull up and lie. What are you able to do, Sligo? I'm going to put that Jasper's real name on this market. Tell the world it don't pay to call the law on us fellas. What are you putting it on with? I'm riding it with a bullet. Yeah, that finishes it. Your epitaph. Rob Osgood. Up with your hands. Don't shoot, fella. I know you can be deaf when I got a gun. How did you get here? How did you know? I thought you'd pay your victim's grave a visit before you left. I was waiting in the shadow of that pine. Yeah, this is a trap that worked. Sligo, you idiot. You put a noose around our necks of what you wrote there. Well, I'm one who won't hang up. Don't cut a drawer. No, he busted my arm. You want the other one broken? No, no. And I'll take all of your guns and search those saddlebags. Here comes Hob and the boys now. Where's that masked man, Hob? We couldn't find him, nor the money either. What are we going to do with more Hank and the engine? We'll hold it until the marshal gets back. As for the red skin... Oh, Porter, if you lynch him, you'd better lynch me too. Because I'll shoot you on sight. Oh, I'd make way there. Look, coming. Glory be, it's the masked man. He's got three prisoners and two saddlebags. And a grave marker under one arm. What's been going on here? They were fixing up a necktie party, mister. Crazy galoots got urged on by one of them fellas you captured. They thought we stole the hospital money. The money is in those saddlebags. And here are the outlaws who stole it. How do you know that, mister? They've admitted it to me. But even if they retract their confessions, this grave marker will hang them. Look. Read what's on it, Hob. It's got Joe Smith carved on it. Under that is written... Here, let's see. This fellow was Rob Osgood, who turned in our partner, Black Bill Devlin, to the law dogs. We put him here. Signed Sligo, Panface, and Slim Jim. Well, I've been blowed. They're Black Bill's partners. The orneriest varmints in the West. And we never know them. Why did they write that thing, mister? They wanted to boast of Osgood's murder. And warn others against giving information against them. You see, every criminal is a braggart. Ma Hank, I'm downright sorry about this mistake. I should have known you didn't have the makings of a crook. Oh, forget it, Hob. Mrs. Henry, will you be able to protect these men until they're jailed? Just get me a scattergun and see. They'll be safe, mister. We come too close to hanging this innocent redskin to want any more of that stuff. Come on, Conno. Hey, wait. Are you claiming a reward for these varmints? Add it to the hospital fund. Ma Hank, who is that masked man? Why, 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. The Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer.
