A fiery horse with the speed of light, a clod of dust, and a hearty hi-o silver. The Lone Ranger. His faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the daring and resourceful mask 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. Are you still there? Barnaby Boggs had a brand new wagon and a brand new medicine to sell. It was a big wagon, painted red with letters in gold two feet high, that spelled out Barnaby Boggs Eradicator. The wagon was parked beneath a shady tree near Waterford. Boggs, red-faced and sweating, was trying to adjust the rear section of the wagon, which dropped down to make a platform for the show that would begin in a couple of hours. Boggs was too busy to notice a masked man and an Indian, whose horses made hardly a sound on the soft grass as they approached and halted. There. Oh, that should hold it. It probably will. Huh? Who said that? Well, as I live and breathe. Hello, Barnaby. My masked friend, Antonto. I do declare I'm glad to see you. Yes, indeed, mighty glad. How? Back to your old skinflint games again, huh? Oh, no, those are harsh words. Skinflint game, indeed. Let's see. Rainmaker, mind reader, medicine man. I thought you'd reform. Oh, I have. I'm on the level now. So help me, I am. What's that stuff you're selling? Boggs eradicator. Takes stains off walls and woodwork. It's the housewife's friend. On top of that, it eradicates warts and moles and freckles. It'll bleach out tan and tattoo marks. It'll... It's fine. All right, Barnaby. But remember, you gave me your word you'd sell no more patent medicines that do more harm than good. Oh, I'm... I'm through with that life, my friend. And no more skin games with cards. And no more that rainmaking game. On my solemn oath as I stand here. I wouldn't think of such a thing. No siree, my friend. I give you my word. My sacred pledge. Uh, don't I see a couple of kegs of gunpowder in that wagon? And a cannon? Uh, huh? Uh, that's what you use for rainmaking. For... Oh, oh, those is... Those items. Yes, those items. Oh, I... Here, uh, don't let me catch you collecting money for rainmaking. I'll try not to let you. But you probably will. Well, I've had bad luck. Yes, indeed. Muddy luck has dogged my footsteps all the way. Why, just last night, my platform broke down. Busted the leg of my chief attraction. Deadshot Dudley. Got nothing left but a banjo player. He's no good. Deadshot Dudley? A sharpshooter. Oh? He'd fire from the hip with either hand and hit a thin dime tossed up into the air. But never mind my woes. Tell me about yourself and Tonto. My, but I'm glad to see you two. What are you doing in these parts? Well, Barnaby, we found a belt buckle. Huh? Yes, a silver one. On the back was the name, uh, Banderman. Banderman? A killer who's been wanted by the law for five years. But what brought you here? The buckle was in an empty wallet. The wallet had the name of the Western Outfitting Company stamped in the leather. Well, I say, that's a firm right here in Waterford. Yes, that's right. Tonto and I thought Banderman might be living in Waterford using a different name. He kept the valuable buckle but didn't wear it for fear it would be recognized. Hmm, likely. Likely. What's he look like? Oh, just an ordinary man, medium-sized, bald head. You'd know him if you saw him? Maybe not. He's probably changed a lot in five years. Not much to identify him by. His name is tattooed on his left forearm. Tattooed, you say? Uh-huh. Dangerous for him to carry around. Say, if he's near here, as you think, and wants to get by with a new name, wouldn't he want to get rid of that tattoo? Yes. Bugs Eradicator. Bugs, you have an idea there. He'd surely buy at least one bottle of the Bugs Eradicator in the hope of getting rid of that tattoo. Will your stain remover do that? Uh, well... The Bugs, uh, tonight I want to be where I can watch everyone who buys the Eradicator. You might sit inside my wagon. Uh, you said you'd lost your sharpshooter. Good old dead shot, Dudley. Well, you have a new sharpshooter. Huh? Yes, an Indian who fires from either hip and knocks dimes out of the air. You mean Tonto? No, I mean myself. With my skin darkened, I'll wear Tonto's buckskin. You! Oh, my! Do I get the job? Do you get it? Oh, my friend, tonight we'll show the townsmen shooting such as they never saw before. That evening found a crowd of townsmen assembled to watch Boggs show. The rear platform of the wagon was lighted by coal oil flares. There was a short program by a banjo player, then a demonstration of sharpshooting. Despite the flickering light, a tall man who looked like an Indian fired from the hip and hit coin after coin that was tossed into the air. No one but Boggs and Tonto, who sat on the platform, knew that the marksman was the lone ranger in disguise. Now, now, that's, that's all for now, my friends. We'll see more of Chief Rainwater's skill in just a moment. Now, first, I want to do each and every one of you a favor. I say, my friends, I want to do you a favor. You gents in the last row, just a minute. Don't leave now. Sorry, Boggs. We got important business. Stacy's let out his sheep. They're running wild over the range. Well, come on, boys. We got to teach Stacy. Uh-uh, gents, just, just a minute now. Wait. Oh, no, damn rat my luck. Look at those men decamp. They seem to be in a hurry, Boggs. Something about Stacy's sheep. Why should Stacy spoil my show? Oh, Sheriff. I say there, Sheriff. Yeah, you seem to have lost your crowd, Boggs. But cheer up. Stacy'll have tougher luck than you got. Who is Stacy? Sheep man. And I might say his sheep would be better off in a wolf pack than Stacy is in the cattle country. He came here to raise sheep. Ranchers Association told him it'd be all right if he kept them fenced and off the range. Won't he keep them off the range? This is the third time he's let them out to graze on cattle land. His darn sheep will spoil the range. They eat too close and kill off the grass. I'm sorry for Stacy, but he's had plenty of warning. Ruined my night's trade. The worst is none too good for him. Say, Tonto, where's our friend? I thought he was sitting there beside you. Well, him go inside wagon, change clothes, put on masks. We go now. Where are you going? Me ride north. Stacy need help. Lone Ranger come when dressed. You're going to help, Stacy? Ah, that's what Lone Ranger said. The Lone Ranger had changed from Indian buckskins to his own familiar clothes. He put on his mask without stopping to wash off the stain that darkened his skin to the complexion of an Indian. Then he rode north. Meanwhile, Tonto had gone to the Stacy Ranch and summarized the situation. He backtracked to meet the Lone Ranger. Oh, easy. Oh, fella. Oh, fella. What's the story, Tonto? I hear gunfire. All sheep come this way fast. Ranches in back of sheep. Chase them with guns. Trying to scatter them. That right. You look yonder. Here come sheep. When the masked man saw the running herd in the moonlight a quarter of a mile away, he made a quick decision. Tonto, if we can turn the leading sheep, the rest will follow. That right. We'll turn them in a wide circle back to the ranch. Come on, Tonto. Get them up, scout. The Lone Ranger and Tonto raced ahead until they met the oncoming sheep. Then, by expert horsemanship, they turned the leaders to one side. Keep them close back, Tonto. Keep them turning. The leader of the ranchers' association was a man named Jackson. He and three of his cow hands rode directly in back of the stampeding sheep, firing guns into the flock. Pull up here. Stop your horses. The sheep are going back to Stacy's place. I thought for sure we'd scatter that flock and break, Stacy. Tough luck, boss. Well, I've got another plan worked out. You three listen close. Sure, all right. To start with Gimp, you go get the sheriff, ask him to meet me at Stacy's house. Then go to our place and wait for me. Right. Wagg, you sneak into Stacy's tool shed, get a couple of his spades. All right. Squint, you go to that medicine man's wagon. Barnaby Boggs? The same. He used to be a rainmaker. He's still got some gunpowder in the wagon. I saw it there. Fill a saddlebag with it. Take it to the ranch and wait there for me and Gimp. When I get home, I'll tell you how to use it. After turning back the sheep, the Lone Ranger and Tonto watched from a distance to be sure Stacy and his men got the flock safely inside the fence. They waited then until they saw that the cut fence was repaired. Leaves Chaos and Silver here at Ground Hits, Tonto. We'll go to the house and talk to Stacy. Ah. There was a man named Stacy in a town where Banderman committed most of his crimes. I want to see if this is the same fellow. Look, Kim Sabe. Yes? Men meet near Stacy's house. Hmm. Well, we'll move close and wait till they leave. Ruth Stacy and her husband were seated in the kitchen, unaware that Jackson and the sheriff had met outside the house. Well, Ruth, we didn't lose too many sheep. Jim, the fence was cut again. Yeah, just like the other times. I wish I knew who was doing it. You must have some friends, Jim. It wasn't your men who turned back the stampede. Come in. Oh, hello, Sheriff. Jackson, you here. Looks that way, don't it? Evening, Stacy. Howdy, Mrs. Stacy. Good evening, Sheriff. Leave the door open, Sheriff. Jackson here will need fresh air. That's the thanks I get for turning back your sheep. You turn them back. Me and my cowhands. If we hadn't done it, the ranchers would have driven those woollies. So far, you'd never see them again. But get this, Stacy. I'm speaking for the Ranchers Association. I brought the sheriff to witness what I say. Well? The next time you turn your sheep out in the open range will be the last time. Now, hold on, Jackson. I didn't turn them out. You said that before. Can I say it again? Someone keeps cutting my wire. You accuse me of cutting the fence wire? I didn't say that. All I know is someone is cutting it. Stacy, you just resent the fact that you weren't made welcome in these parts. And to get square with us ranchers, you're letting out your sheep to kill off our grassland. You've done it three times. I have not. You've had your last warning, Stacy. Next time your sheep are on the range, we'll come here for you. We'll come geared for action. That's official. Well, good night, folks. Good night, Sheriff. Sheriff, he hates cattlemen. Me in particular. See the way he looked at me? I didn't notice. There was poison in his face. I'm sure going to be on guard against some underhanded trick. If he does anything to you, Jackson, just let me know. Sure will. See you again. Get up there. Come on. Get up. Get up there. The Lone Ranger and Tonto, standing in the darkness, had heard the conversation through the open door. They watched the Sheriff and Jackson ride away. Tonto, we get back to our horses. You not calling Stacy? No, I've changed my mind. Did you hear Jackson claim credit for turning back the sheep? Ah, me hear him? Him lie. Yes, Jackson lied. But there was a ring of honesty in Stacy's voice. Ah. Why you not talk to Stacy? I'd rather talk to Jackson. Your horses. Steady scouts. We'll go back and see Barnaby Boggs. Then I'll go on to Jackson's ranch. At that time, he'll be home. Easy, set a big fella. Easy, scout. Easy, scout. Come on, scouts. 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. After leaving Stacy's sheep ranch, the Lone Ranger and Tonto rode back to the wagon of Barnaby Boggs. As they dismounted near the big red wagon, then they heard a groan. That come from wagons. Boggs, come on, Tonto. We'll see what's the matter with him. Back of wagons still open. Yes. Here's lamps in here. Strike a matching light one. Let me do it. Oh, no. Don't hit me again. Don't do it. Boggs, what happened? Oh, my head. My poor beaten head. Here, light. Put it down here, Tonto. Let me look at your head, Boggs. Oh. Sorry. I'll never be the same again. You'll be all right. Oh, me. Who'd do such a foul deed to a peace-loving man? I've never hurt anyone. Oh, my luck. The skin's not broken. Tell me what happened. I don't know what happened. I was sitting alone in the dark. Guess I was dozing. Someone crept behind my back. Then there were stars, millions of them. Where'd you come from? Stacy's ranch. I went... Boggs, you've been using gunpowder. Gunpowder? No. Look, one of those kegs has been opened. Ah. Here, powder spilled and floured. Robbed. I've been robbed. The scoundrel who cracked my head stole my powder. That keg was full. Now it's half empty. Anything else gone? I can't tell. Well, at first glance, I'd say nothing has been disturbed. Just the powder. Who knew you had that powder? Well, I guess everyone in town could have known it. It's in plain view when the platform of my wagon is lowered. I wonder if the theft of that powder is in any way connected with the trouble at Stacy's place. Who can tell? Someone might have let out Stacy's sheep. Just so there'd be no one around this wagon. To clear the way for the assault and robbery, eh? We'll talk about your case later. Right now, I'm going to call on Jackson. Why? I want to ask him a few questions about the Ranchers Association. I also want to find out why he lied and told Stacy that he turned back the sheep. Toto, you better stay here with Boggs. Ah, me doing. But wait. Your face beneath that mask. You still wear a stain that makes you look like an Indian. If you had a call on Jackson... It takes quite a while to wash away the stain. I haven't the time. Jackson will have to take me as I am. I'll be back in an hour at the most. And we'll be waiting for you. Easy, sir. Big fella. One, two, three. The lone ranger already knew the location of the Jackson Ranch. He approached the buildings from the rear. When he saw two men working with spades in the moonlight near the barn, he stopped his horse some distance away and proceeded on foot. You got enough, Potter? Plenty. We don't want to wreck the barn complete. This has to do a little damage. I wish Jackson had a different scheme. We'll be in bad for it comes out that we set this blast. This would be half as bad as it'd be if the truth came out about Jackson. If that happens, we're all gone geese. Why don't he try some of that Boggs eradicator? Maybe that'd take off the tattoo mark. Don't argue with the boss's plans. It's like that fuse as we're told to. Even if he does get Stacy lynched, how does he know that someone else won't come here, like Stacy, who might see the tattoo on his arm and know what it means? I'd like that fuse myself. Get him up. Hey, what's this? It's Wagg. I got you covered. Walk straight ahead. Wagg's captured someone. Look what I got, boys. The gem that was listening to you two from around the corner of the barn. And his mast. Well, mister, what have you got to say for yourself? Me? No, talk. Take his gun. Sure. I'll get him. I caught him flat-footed. I suppose you jugheads had plenty to say about the boss's plan. If this gent heard us, he heard plenty. I'll take that mask off and see who he is. There. Yeah, turn him around so the moon shines on his face. Hey, I know this critter. He's a redskin who was sharpshooting in the medicine show. Huh? He works for Boggs. So that's it. Squinch, I must have left tracks for him to follow when you got that powder. Tie him up. We'll hold him in the old shed. We'll see what Jackson wants to do with him. I'll tie him. Then we'll fire the blast. Tied hand and foot, the Lone Ranger lay in an old shed some distance from the Jackson barn. There was just one thing for which he could be grateful. He had been wearing the Indian disguise on his face beneath the mask. The secret of his true identity was still safe. But for how long? He was pondering this when the blast went off. There was a sheet of flame and a shattering force of air that knocked down one corner of the barn. Jackson was in the cafe. Hey, boss. Boss. Mr. Jackson. Jackson, that's one of your men. Hey, what's the matter, Wig? An explosion. Someone blew up your barn. If Stacy had a hand in that. Come on, boys. Let's go with Jackson and see what happens. Not too much damage, Jackson. You can repair the barn. Yeah, I'm lucky you didn't catch fire. Who'd do a trick like this? Hey, Mr. Jackson. I found a couple of spades over there. Spades? Sure. Here they are. They've got a name on them. Whose name? The sheep man, Stacy. In one of his men, set that blank. All right, come on, boys. We'll get Stacy now. We'll take the sheriff to his place and get him for keeps. Let's get to the horse. Come on. Hey, Wig. Did you get a chance to tell Jackson about the masked Indian we captured? Yeah, I can't do anything about him now. He's got to ride to Stacy's place with the others. He says for you and Gimp to stay here and guard the prisoner until he comes back. Right. Jackson and the other ranchers quickly found the sheriff who listened to the story of the blast, looked at the spades with Stacy's name on them, then joined the group who rolled to the ranch of the sheep man. While the hour was late, there were still lights burning in Jim Stacy's home. We can't all go in there. Me and Jackson will go inside. You two, Wag. Bring the spades. All right, Sheriff. You can come along, Finch. Right. The rest of you wait here outside. All right. Hey there. There's Stacy at the door. What's going on? What do you all want here? We're coming to speak to you, Stacy. What? Again, Sheriff? You know why we're here, Stacy. I do not. Stacy, take a look at those two spades. He's here. You recognize him? What? They're mine. My name's on the handle. You left him near my place when you blew up my barn. What are you trying to say, Jackson? I didn't blow up your barn. I haven't been out of the house since the last time you were here. Hey, that proves it. How'd you know the barn was blown up since then? Well, I... Well, if it'd been blown up earlier, you'd have said something when you were here. Stacy, it looks like the evidence is against you. Sheriff, listen to me. Jim hasn't been out of the house. Naturally, you'd alibi her, Mrs. Stacy. Indeed. I'll have to ask you to come along, Stacy. We'll hear what you got to say in court. You're going to jail me on Jackson, say so? No spades. You can't do it, Sheriff. Those ranchers will bust me out and lynch me. Jackson will see to that he's hated me from the start. You hear that, Sheriff? He figures I hate him. That's why he blew up the barn. He wanted to hurt me. Come along, Stacy. There's been nothing but trouble ever since you came to these parts. Don't take him, Sheriff. They will lynch you. Sorry, ma'am. Oh, wait, Sheriff. Jackson's lying. Don't make me use force. Hey, something's going on outside. Open the door and see what's there. He's mad. Hey, what the... Ten still, all of you. Hey, this man. Quiet. Come on in, Toto. You two, Boggs, and close the door. Boggs, you here? What does it look like? Every one of you is covered. I'll lower my guns when I've cleared up a couple of points. Sheriff, you needn't bother to arrest Jim Stacy. No. Who are you? What's that mask mean? I'll answer the first question. I'm one of the men who turned back Stacy's sheep. That's not true. The engineer near the door was with me. I'll tell you how I got here. I was captured by two of Jackson's men. They held me in the shed. I'd still be there if Toto and Boggs hadn't expected me to join them and came looking for me. Jackson, you'll find your pals Gimp and Squint tied in the shed just as I was. Hold it. Don't go for a gun. I have more to say. Sheriff, I was captured by that man. I think he's called Wag. While I was watching Squint and Gimp put the blasting powder near the Jackson barn. Powder they stole from my wagon. You mean to say my own men? Yes, they were using spades they had stolen from Stacy's barn. Those spades on the floor. You hear that, Sheriff? That clears me. What's the word of a masked man mean? You'll find out in a minute, Jackson. You wanted to make trouble for Stacy. You wanted to get him away from here. And failing in that, you wanted to get him lynched. It's a lie. I'll know your knife. You can't like me. Sheriff, don't let me... No one is going to knife you, Jackson. Sheriff, for a number of years, there have been handbills out for a killer named Vanderman. Yeah? The name's familiar. Vanderman dropped out of sight. He changed his name. Bought a ranch with the money accumulated through his crimes. And settled down. Then a man named Stacy came to the vicinity. I knew Vanderman. I knew him back. Yes, Stacy. Yes. You knew him as a thin, bald-headed man with a tattoo mark on his forearm. You didn't recognize him after he'd put on some weight and a wig. But you would have known him if you'd ever seen his tattooed forearm. That's what he was afraid of. That's why he didn't want you around. What? You mean... No, no. Quiet. Tell the rest, masked man. That's all there is. Oh, no. Gotta wait. Jackson's sleeve. I won't let you... Why, get him. Right, boss. I'll help you. My arm. Boggs, pick up the gun, wagged up. Yep. I got it. You let go of me. Hold him, Stacy. Hold him. Now that's your sleeve, Toto. Sheriff, there's the tattoo. His own name, Vanderman. So that's who you are, Jackson. Who are you? And for the final proof, Vanderman, let's have that wig. You dirty killer. Now I recognize you. Baldy Vanderman. Well, this sort of changes the name of the man I take prisoner. Vanderman's three ranch hands are as guilty as he is. Yep. You come along with me, wag. Well, Stacy, I guess we all misjudged you. I can't blame you for that, Finch. Well, from now on, your life around here will be easier. I reckon we all feel we've got some making up to do for you. We're through here, Toto. Say, wait a minute. You see what you're wagging, Boggs? Now, it's your move, Vanderman. Stacy, you sure are lucky to have that masked Indian on your side. Indian? Yeah, Boggs. I can see his copper-colored chin below that mask. He's an Indian, same as the one he called Tonto. You're not so smart, Sheriff. He's wearing a stain on his face so as he can sharpshoot in my show. I called him Chief Rainwater. I reckon he won't act no more, though. His job in these parts is done. So he's not an Indian, you old skin plant. Ha! Indian, my eye. He's the Lone Ranger. Are you still there? Oh! This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created and produced by George W. Trendle and directed by Charles D. Livingston. Tonight's story was written by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer.
