A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-yo silver. The Lone Ranger. Full 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. Hi-yo, Silver. It was always noisy in the carpenter's shop at the territorial prison. Hammering on nails already driven and making their saws squeal, the men in convict stripes escaped the wrath of the watchful guards by appearing to be hard at work. But there was another purpose behind the deliberate racket they raised. The sounds of their tools drowned their voices as they carried on forbidden conversations, speaking through lips which did not move. In one corner of the shop, Billy Behong, a train robber under a life sentence, wielded a hammer on a rough box which had been ordered for a dead inmate. Standing beside him, two prisoners known as Big Nose and Horse Face fitted a lid on the sinister box. Billy Behong was asking... Horse Face, who's gonna wear this wooden overcoat? Old Jake Perry. Whereabouts he being shipped? Moe Dock City, I hear. Moe Dock City? That's where all three of us got caught by the Lone Ranger. And his consign friends, Ma Hank and Uncle Homer Potts. Yeah. I haven't forgotten them. In fact, I heard something about Ma Hank when we had child this new one. Yeah, you did? What was it? Sorry, Sam. I trust you run the prison morgue. You passed me the word that old Jake's body is descent to her. Planted on Signal Hill. Seems like he liked that place. Yeah, I know Signal Hill. I can't figure out the tie-up between her and Perry. She always thought he was innocent. This old Jake told me once. He said she was the only one who stuck up for him during his trial. I'd like to drive this keg of nails into that she-hippopotamus and the little monkey she married. As for the Lone Ranger, I'd gladly be hung if I could put him in a box like this one. The only way you'll ever get out of this place is in a rough box. In a rough box? Yeah, I wonder. Fellas, I got an idea how I can beat this pain. Now you hammer harder and listen to this. All right. All right. A few minutes later, a guard approached the three convicts, swinging a club and kicking into piles of shavings. Halting at a discreet distance, he eyed them suspiciously. How are you fellas coming? We finished the box. You want us to carry it over to the morgue? Maybe. Well, I want to know first why your ordinary bombers are asking for extra work right at quitting time. Oh, Jake was a friend of ours. We want to do something for him. Oh? Well, there's a rush order on that box, as he's to be carted off to a train this evening. So deliver it to Sorry Sam. By the time you get the lid nailed on, the shop will be closed. What'll we do with our tools? Report to the yard, Captain, and give them to him. Be back in the south lock before the next checkup. Right. Grab hold of the box, fellas. Sorry Sam was alone in the prison dead house when Billy Beehong, Horseface, and Big Nose entered with their burden and placed it on the floor. Billy Beehong immediately stepped behind the sad-faced trustee, who was lamenting... Gentlemen, our days are few and filled with sorrows. I'm sorry. You're not as sorry as you'll be if you don't follow my orders. You know what I'm holding against your back? Well, I have... It's a chisel I sneaked out of the shop, and it's got a mighty sharp edge. You feel it? Oh, don't. Please don't. I want old Jake's civilian suit. You always dress dead prisoners in such clothes before they're buried. I know it's here. I get it. You'd rob the dead? Oh, the pity I was... The clothes, fella. Oh, I'm sorry. There they are in that bundle. A few minutes later, Billy Beehong was dressed in a suit which fitted him fairly well. Stepping into the rough box, he pointed the chisel at Sorry Sam. You keep your trap shut. Big Nose and Horseface will take care of you if you don't. But if you take old Jake's place, what'll I do with him? Hide him. You're a trustee. You don't have to be in your cell at lock-up time like the other prisoners. Tonight you can bury the body in a drain that's being laid across the prison yard. Ah, the trouble is ever heaped upon my head. Watch that broken hearted pool, cat boys. We'll see that he don't blab. What are you going to do for water and food? I'll do without for a few hours. You may smother, Billy. Not in a two-bit box like this. It's full of cracks and knot holes. When I want out, I'll use a chisel. All right, now I'll lie down. You ready for us to put on the lid? I'm all set. I'll hurry it up. You bet. All right, nail it on. You bet. Billy, put a slug in the Lone Ranger for me. Yeah, me too. I'll settle the school for all of us. As soon as Billy Be Hung had been nailed into the box, Horseface and Big Nose forced the frightened trustee to attach Jake Perry's death certificate to it and help move it to the prison gate on a push cart. There, the guards passed it out to an express wagon without examining anything except the certificate and shipping address. A few hours later, the box was in an express car bound for Modoc City. Two Wells Fargo agents stood near it. One was saying, Steve, was from this side of the car that noise came? I heard it, Irish. Sounded like nails being pulled. Be like the car is coming apart. It's bad sense to be carrying a box the likes of that. You're superstitious. I'm more worried about the strong box than that rough box. It's filled with currency. It is safe now with that bold robber Billy Be Hung locked up in prison. We're coming to the junction. This is where I leave you, Irish, so I'll slide the door open. Beth and I wish you were staying. This queer feeling I have about the box. You, Irishman. Well, I'm jumping out. See you on the next row. The train was soon underway again. Irish busied himself with bills of lading, but from time to time he cast wary glances at the forbidding box. Suddenly he froze. A paper fluttered from his nerveless hands as he shrieked. Say, it's preserve me. The lid is lifting. The corpse is coming out. As the horrified agent stood rooted in his tracks, Billy Be Hung sprang out like a jack in a box and snatched a sawed-off shotgun from a rack beside the door. Whirling, he covered Irish. Don't shoot me. I don't intend. A shot might be heard. But not this. Billy Be Hung's gun barrel had connected with the express agent's head with a force which the escaped convict had intended to be fatal. The outlaw looked at his victim, then at the rough box, an evil smile twisting his lips. Now it's your turn to go inside. Heaving the limp body into the box, Billy Be Hung replaced the lid, picked up one of several railroad tools which were within reach, and began to re-nail it. On the following day, the lone ranger sat at a campfire a few miles from Modoc City. He held a newspaper which Tonto had brought back from town a short time before. Looking up from the first page, he said, Otto, this paper carries stories about two strange disappearances. Billy Be Hung has vanished from prison, and an express agent vanished from a train on which a Wells Fargo safe was mysteriously looted. What fellows at prison think happened to Billy Be Hung? It was last seen when he and two other convicts carried a rough box into the prison morgue. Billy Be Hung's companions and a trustee who worked in the morgue are being questioned. The warden has promised to get to the bottom of the mystery. If Billy Be Hung loose again, maybe him try to kill Ma Hank, Uncle Homer. That's a possibility. Did you see Ma Hank when you were in town today? Uh-uh, me see her. Her get fixed a very old fella named Jake Perry, who die in prison. Body come on train this morning. Hmm. That was the train from which the express agent disappeared. That may have carried Billy Be Hung to freedom in Jake Perry's rough box. Been done before. That's plenty strange. Here, Silver. Here, Scout. Uh, where we go, Kemosabe? To Modoc City. Steady, Silver. Easy. Easy, fella. Our friends may be in danger even now. Montel. Montel. Montel. That afternoon, Ma Hank and Uncle Homer met in the kitchen of her hotel, the Henry House. The 275-pound landlady frowned down on the pint-sized but peppery lawyer who had abandoned a New York office to become her second husband and a two-gun westerner. Homer, take those guns off Prado. Which isn't fitting to go to a burial, which isn't fitting to go to a burial wearing shooting irons. My dear, I feel most unmanly without him. I'm a personage of some important in the world of gunfighters and must keep up appearances. Hmm. Did I not lay low the notorious Billy Be Hung? Well, you winged the varmint with a lucky shot. Now you quit spilling your eastern lingo and shed those smoke wagons. You savvy? Yes, yes, I savvy. But don't get rampy now. I'll hang my gun belts on this chair while we plant your old friend, Jake. Well, come on now. Where'd you leave the buckboard after you picked up the rough box at the depot? Right out here in the alley. I hitched up the teams again. Bury me not on the lone prairie. Homer, you can't sing any better than you can shoot. What? Anyhow, old Jake wrote me that he didn't want any singing or preaching at his burial. Oh. Poor fella. I do hope you'll like it up on Signal Hill. There wasn't much good in him, but there wasn't much bad either. Ma, Hank, you sure get stuck with the dernless things. First it was an iron deer, then me, and now a dead convict. Well, there he is. I hired a couple of fellas to dig a hole on the hill. They're waiting for us, so climb up on the seat. Right. Yep. Now I'll take the lines. You just hold those critters steady. Here they come. Oh, my sakes. No buckboard ever bucks after I get on it. Somebody's riding up the alley. What? It's Tarno again. And there's time the Lone Ranger's with him. Wait, folks. We're waiting, mister. Hold on. Hold on. Why are you pointing your guns at that rough box? Billy B. Hung may be in it. In there? That box was shipped to me. It has old Jake Perry's death certificate tacked to it. Have you looked inside it? No. Why in the world would the warden send Billy B. Hung to me, of all people? I didn't know the polecat was dead. I doubt that he is. I think he used this box as a means of escape. Ma, the masked man may be right. I saw in a paper that the vomit had disappeared after he and some other convicts took a rough box to the prison dead house. It's the one kind of box that probably would be passed out of prison without an inspection. Then let's take a look. Otto, we're getting into the buckboard. Bring your hatchet. Use the blade to pry open the lid while I cover you. Let me do it, Otto. Oh, if I just had my guns now. This lid been lifted before. It's all pretty easy. Stay back, Ma, Hank. There. He got lid loose. Now let me lift it. Who in blazes is that fella? Him not Billy B. Hung. Why, he's not old Jake either. Is he dead? No, but he's had several severe blows on the head. He may remain unconscious for hours. We might have buried the poor fella. Who do you reckon he is? There's a Wells Fargo badge on his coat which identifies him. He's a missing express agent. The curtain falls on the first act of our Lone Ranger adventure. Before the next exciting scenes, please permit us to pause for just a few moments. Now to continue. After the injured express agent had been removed to a hotel room and placed under a doctor's care, The Lone Ranger and Tonto again met Ma, Hank, and Uncle Homer in the alley. Ma, Hank, was saying... That Wells Fargo man is being hunted as a thief right now. How in tarnation did he get nailed up in that box? There's only one possible explanation. After Billy B. Hung substituted himself for old Jake's body and was shipped out on the express car, he let himself out. Then he attacked the agent, robbed the express company safe, and made another substitution of bodies, no doubt believing that the express man was dead. The infernal scoundrel! I believe that it's his plan to hunt and waylay us. Where did you intend to bury the dead convict? On Signal Hill! Well, that's where old Jake wanted to be put, so I aimed to let him have his last wish. It's more than likely that he spoke of that wish to other convicts before he died. Maybe Billy B. Hung's out on Signal Hill waiting for us. Where's our friend Marshal Jim Fraser? He and a Wells Fargo special agent named Rain are leading a posse along the railroad track, betwixt here in the junction. Marshal Jim has a warrant for the express man we found. I see. If Outlaw hide on Hill, it'd be plenty hard to catch him. Hillside's covered with brush. Him see us, we not see him. That's true. But there's a chance that we may trick him into showing himself. And what we do? Listen, this is my plan. As the Lone Ranger outlined his scheme, Marshal Jim, Special Agent Rain, and a half-dozen possemen rode up to a ranch house where Billy B. Hung had stopped that morning. Oh! As they halted, the rancher opened the door and stepped outside with a greeting. Howdy, Marshal Jim. Hi. Howdy, man. Howdy. What's the trouble? We're looking for a fellow named Irish McCune. His tracks led here from the railroad line where he jumped from a train after robbing the Wells Fargo strongbox. Now, where is he? Speak up. I don't know, Irish McCune. I don't know you. And what's more, I don't like your way of talking. Rain, you'd better let me do the talking. I know Western. Yes, and I know crooks. I knew McCune was a thief the first time I saw him. All right, Rain. Now let's find out what this rancher knows. Marshal, a fellow did walk in here this morning. He had his face covered with bandages, told a story about his horse breaking a leg and throwing him. He carried a green grip sack. Then that was McCune. Where'd he go? After I fed him and let him have a horse, he rode off toward Modoc City. Come on, boys. Come on, Rain. Let's look for the hoof prints of that borrowed horse. Get him! Several hours later, the buckboard bearing the rough box rolled toward the top of Signal Hill. Ma Hank and Uncle Homer were on the seat, which tilted upward so high on his side that his boots didn't reach the footboard. Ma looked back at the box as the little man cracked a whip and urged the horses on. Get along there! I wonder the box hasn't jolted off. Have you seen any sign of Billy be hung? Nope, none at all. I feel like a clay pipe in a shooting gallery. Where's Tonto? Oh, he slipped off into the brush when we started uphill. I don't reckon he's very far away now. I wish I had my guns. We're coming to the top. There are the grave diggers. We'll be lucky if they don't plant us. Howdy, Ma Hank. Howdy, Homer. Nice day to be alive, isn't it? It sure is. But I don't know whether I'll live. Oh! Oh! Let's get down, Homer. Oh, yep. I'm getting down there. Oh, here he come. All right, get your hands up. Look, a fellow with a bandaged face. You, you're Billy be hung. I'll be hung if I'm not. How deep is that hole, grave digger? Why, just a regular six feet. That isn't deep enough to hold off for you and the express agent in that box. All right, get in there and throw out more dirt. You savvy? Yes, yes, I'll do it. Oh, oh, oh, oh. Meanwhile, Marshal Jim, Special Agent Rain, and the possemen had halted their horses at the foot of the hill. The marshal was saying, Rain, the trail we followed from the ranch leads up to this hill. I don't have to be a westerner to see that. You take one man and follow the tracks. The rest of us will scatter out and ride up the hill from the other side. Savvy? I understand. Come on, Joe. Come on, boys. Get up! All right, you've dug deep enough, fellas. Now, here's where the fun begins. As the outlaw spoke, the lid of the rough box behind him lifted and the lone ranger emerged with one gun drawn. Noiselessly, the masked man stepped from the box to the sand and eased the lid back into place. The outlaw was saying, I'll plug you first, Homer Potts. You and your old woman helped the masked man put me in a pokey. If I just had him here. I am here. Drop that gun. You. Drop that gun. All right, there it goes. Where did you come from? Out of that box. Your trick works two ways. Who's coming? The express company detective and the posse men. They're pointing their six shooters at your back. Ho, ho, ho. All right, drop those guns, masked man. I'm Special Agent Rain. You keep out of this, fella. Let me explain. No, do as I say or I'll shoot you. Very well. All right, get his guns, Joe. Right. I'll take care of the other fella. McCune, you're under arrest. McCune? That's what I said. He's the express car agent who looted a company's strong box last night. He's not an express agent. He's... He's no one else. Nathan, I'm not, mister. It is a mistake you're making by arresting me. The masked man helped the express car and took me prisoner. So that's what happened. How did he get aboard the express car? Sure, and he hopped in a junction just after me partner Steve got out. Well, that's just what I thought. Why did you stop at a ranch house and get a horse on the pretext that your own horse had broken a leg and thrown you? That was the tune of that desperado. He made me tell that story. Waiting outside he was, ready to pistol whip me again if I didn't. He can see what he'd done to me face. He planned to make it appear that you were guilty. That he did. Then he brought me here and met his gang. Tis a dead man I'd be if you hadn't come to my rescue. Make him give you the loot. Whose body is in that box? Mr. Rain, there's nothing in that box. Your express agent was in it, but he's now in the hotel in Modok City, recovering from wounds he received at the hands of Billy B. Hung. And there before you is Billy B. Hung. You expect me to believe that? It's the truth. Billy B. Hung escaped from prison in that box. After it was on board the express car, he let himself out, beat the agent, robbed the safe, and jumped off. Now he's here. Maybe he is. Maybe you're Billy B. Hung. Why don't you take the bandages from that man's face? I want to see your face first. All right, grab him, Joe. I've got him. Hold on to him. I'll pull that mask off. Oh, no, you don't. You take that. As Ma Hank's mighty blow stretched the private detective unconscious on the sand, Billy B. Hung took advantage of the confusion and scooped up his fallen gun. Uncle Homer was yelling, Watch out! Billy B. Hung has his gun again! The posseman who had grabbed the Lone Ranger disregarded the warning, but the masked man, seeing death in the outlaw's blazing eyes and leveled gun, jerked backward just before he fired. A bullet fanned the Lone Ranger's temple. Again, the escaped convict triggered his gun. The posseman jerked and collapsed at the masked man's feet with a groan. As the Lone Ranger jumped clear of the fallen man's body and Billy B. Hung brought his gun to bear for the third time, Uncle Homer snatched up one of the gravedigger's spades. He swung it with a howl of fury. Take this, you out of the boot! The spade missed the owl hoot's head but struck his shoulder, paralyzing his arm and causing him to drop his gun. Billy B. Hung took to his heels as the Lone Ranger rushed him. I'll take care of you. You haven't got me yet. Seeing that Ma Hank and Uncle Homer blocked his way to the horse which he had left in the brush far down the hillside, Billy B. Hung made for the buckboard. He's headed for the wagon. I'll get some guns! Come down from that wheel! Let go of me! The outlaw had one hand on the buckboard seat and one foot on a wheel hub when the Lone Ranger grabbed him. Kicking backward with his free foot, he sank a boot heel into the masked man's midriff. I'll plug the buckboard! No, I have him now. Dragging Billy B. hung down from the side of the spring wagon, the masked man whirled him around. All right, you asked for this. Now take it! All right, take it! And take it again! Again! Come on! Donna, I've had enough. Come on, Hank. Give me my guns. Mike, I've got yours and the private detective's too. Maybe I should have plugged that boom, can't you? No, it's better this way. How are rain on the wounded posseman? Oh, I only knocked out that rain varmint. He should be coming too. Yeah, the fellow's just nicked in the shoulder. Here comes the marshal. There's some fellows with him. One is Tonto. He's bringing Silver and another horse. Hello, Marshal Jim. Howdy, mister. I see you've captured Irish McHugh. What else happened here? There's been a good deal of misunderstanding all the way around. Rain thought I was an outlaw. That overbearing varmint wood. Is he dead? No, Marshal. That ambulance... Well, what are you calling my wife? Yeah, that lady knocked me out. I want her arrested. I have more important things to do. Tonto found the borrowed horse in the carpet bag with the Wells Fargo money in it. So now I'll take McHugh to jail. Well, here comes my jailer. He's riding hard. What's up, Jeff? Maybe the hunger's loose again. What? Oh, oh, oh, there. The warden of the territory of prison sent us a wire saying that some of the convicts there had confessed to nailing the varmint in a rough box that was being shipped to my Hank. So I hightailed it out after I found out that she had the box and intended to bury it here. You're a mite late, Jeff. The masked man is holding Billy the hung prisoner right now. But I thought... Tonto, take the bandages from the prisoner's face. Let me do it. Stand still, brother. I may not use a knife on you. Only cut rags from face. You see face now? Sonderation. It is Billy Behan. That's what I tried to tell Mr. Rain. Masked man, I'm sorry. Spare yourself the apology, Mr. Rain. One-fourth of the stolen money will go to you and your Indian friend. That's the share the company always awards for the recovery of loot. Turn it over to Ma Hank. It will be useful to her and her charitable works. Rain, handcuff Billy Behan and tie his legs. Then load him into Ma Hank's buckboard. We'll have to keep him in irons and watch him day and night until the prison guards come after him. Yes, you're right, Marshal. He's the trickiest and most dangerous criminal in the West. This makes the fourth time that he's escaped from custody. There may be a fifth time. If there is, I'll see you again, masked man. You can't always win. No, but you'll always lose. Sometime you'll meet the fate your name suggests. The polecat sure deserves to be hung. All right, come on, Tonto. Easy. See you, fella. Adios, friend. Adios. Come on, Tonto. Marshal, you suppose my company could hire that masked man? Get that idea out of your head. Nobody hires the Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, created by George W. Trendle, produced by Trendle Campbell Enterprises, directed by Charles D. Livingston, and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer. Brace Beamer. Brace Beamer.
