A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-oh silver. The Lone Ranger. Companion Tottle, 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. Are you still there? Dodge McAllister headed a gang of outlaws known as the Alibi Boys. Operating out of Circle City, he and his henchmen had laughed at the law as they robbed and killed at will. Sheriff Matt Harvey knew McAllister was a criminal and had often arrested him. Dodge McAllister, I want you for the murder of two miners on Poker Creek. Sheriff, a half dozen good citizens will testify that my friends and I were right here in Circle City when the miners were killed. They'll have to swear to that in court. In view of the substantial alibi offered by the defendant in this case, the court feels compelled to direct a verdict of not guilty. A few weeks later, the bank at Round Top had been robbed. They're getting away! Sheriff, I hear you've been looking for me and my boys. Well, here we are. McAllister, you're all under arrest for the bank holdup. This time, I'll put you where you belong. I have two witnesses who will identify you. Yeah, and we have ten who'll swear we weren't within 50 miles of rounds. Sheriff Harvey, it appears to the court that you have been persecuting Dodge McAllister. Case dismissed. McAllister, I know you and your gang held up the casino in Red Ledge last night. You have an alibi, I reckon. Right you are, Sheriff. I'm the fellow who wasn't there. It was several weeks later when Cannonball McKay, the famous woman stage driver, brought six fleet horses and a new Concord coach to a dust-raising stop outside her home stable in Circle City. Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Cannonball was lean and leathery. She wore men's clothing and had her hair tucked up into the crown of a battered Stetson. In her left hand, she carried a coiled black snake whip. From her right shoulder, a sawed-off shotgun hung, barreled down on a looped strap attached to its butt. As she nimbly descended from the driver's box, her husband, who had only one arm, emerged from the stable. She greeted him affectionately. Claim you, old dear? What did you do while I was away on my two-day run? Little enough, darling. I've been worrying about you. Dodge McAllister and his owl hoots are fixing to hold you up. That doesn't surprise me. How'd you find out? A homesteader named Dave Harrison sent word to me. I know Harrison. Last winter, I hauled his wife to a hospital through a blizzard. The gang aims to rob you the first of next months. The first? That's when I always carry the most money betwixt here and Red Ledge. Dodge McAllister knows that. He also knows that your strong box is built into the stage under the back seat. Oh, they can't get away with the box unless they tear the stage apart. And if they do, they'll still need my key or a lot of blasting powder to open it. Oh, that makes it worse for you. They figure to steal the stage and take you with it. Hmm. I wonder how the homesteader got in on the gang's secrets. Uh, McAllister aims to use Harrison as one of his witnesses after the hold-up. The gang always fixes alibis in advance. Is Harrison gonna purge himself? Why not? The gang'll kill him if he don't. He has an ailing wife and children to think about. So that's why the owl hoots always have such a bunch of honest men ready to testify for them. Cannon, let's go and ask the sheriff for protection. Sheriff Harvey has given up trying to catch the alibi, boys. Anyhow, I've plugged a couple of road agents in my time and I'm raring to plug some more. I've got old Betsy here loaded with horseshoe nails. Wait, wait a minute. I just remembered that masked man, an Indian, who once kept me from being lynched. If you could get in touch with him... Before he left, the masked man told me I could reach him by writing to a certain padre. Then do it, Cannonball. Please do. All right, honey. I'll send him a message pronto. Later that day, Dodge McAllister conferred with Sid Hale, the gang's attorney. A loan shark as well as a shyster, Hale had long used both laws and outlaws to rob and corrupt honest men. Rubbing his hands, he asked... Well, Dodge, did you line up Dave Harrison? I scared him plenty, Sid. But I doubt that he'll be on hand to testify for us if we need him. Why not? He started packing his furniture. So he intends to run out on us, eh? That's for sure. Once a man goes into court and swears to a false alibi, he's hooked. He's committed the crime of perjury. That keeps him quiet. But Harrison hasn't implicated himself. He may tell all he knows as soon as he thinks he's safe. He knows too much. I'll have to plug him. Leave that to me. I don't need a prearranged alibi. Now then, what about your plans for the holdup? And we're all set. We stop the stage this side of Hairpin Bend. I'll have Lucky Lou hiding in the rocks that overhang the trail. When Cannonball pulls up, he'll lasso her and jerk her from the driver's seat before she can use her scattergun. And Goosenax Slim and I'll close in. I see. We'll take the stage into a canyon where nobody will see it. Now, if we can't get the strongbox key away from Cannonball, we'll blow the lid off. There should be a lot of money in it. Yeah. But suppose there are a lot of passengers on the stage. I'll only have three fellas working with me. I'll reserve all the seats the night before. Now, go out the back way. I'm heading for Harrison's homestead. On the last night of the month, Cannonball McKay sat beside a table in her home. Very carefully, she dropped horseshoe nails into the left muzzle of her ten-gauge scattergun. Clem was saying, It doesn't look like the mask man will get here in time to help you. He may have been a thousand miles away when I wrote. Well, skin me alive if it isn't Tonto. Well, come in, come in, Tonto. Or who's the Mexican gent with you? Him. Him friend. He's not the friend I expected. Senora Cannonball, you make the big mistake. I am the ombre you want. Great fires in the mountains. It's you, the Lone Ranger. Go on, go on. I never would have known you in that get-up. Why a disguise? I plan to ride your stage tomorrow as a passenger. Tonto will follow along behind, keeping out of sight and bringing silver. Now, tell me all you know about the Alibi Boys and their designs on your stage. After Cannonball and Clem had given all the particulars about the gang, the Lone Ranger commented, perhaps I should talk to Dave Harrison. Oh, it's too late for that, mister. Somebody plugged the poor fellow while he was trying to move out of these parts. That's too bad. Do you want me to haul anybody besides you? You can't refuse to settle fares without making people wonder and talk. Oh, that's so. We don't want to scare off the gang. One chance of bringing the Alibi Boys to justice is to catch them in a criminal act. All right. You think you can persuade the sheriff to take a posse to Redledge tonight? Well, what... You might suggest that he and his possemen ride back towards Circle City in the morning, following the stage trail. What for? Well, the hold-up can occur only at one place, between here and the end of your line at Redledge. Uh-huh. It's about 15 minutes from Hairpin Bend. That's the only place on the trail where there are enough large rocks and boulders to furnish concealment for the outlaws and their horses. Yeah. If the posse can avoid being seen by the bandits and catch those crooks in action, there can be no trumped-up alibi. That's a good idea, mister. But just the same, I'd like to hide the key to the strong box where those owl hoots will never find it, in case they get the upper hand of us. Let me have your key in the scattergun. Here they are. Taking a thin, flat key from Cannonball's hand, the Lone Ranger dropped it into the right barrel of the shotgun, which contained only a powder charge. Then he rammed a patch of linen into the barrel. There you are, Cannonball. Well, you have to unlock the box at some waypoint in order to receive a discharge mail and money. All you'll have to do is pull the wadding out of the barrel. I hear somebody coming. Folks are always running in on me. Howdy, Cannonball. Howdy, Clem. Howdy, lawyer Hale. Don't you knock before you come into a house? Your place is rather public. I see you have some strangers here now. This here gent is riding the stage tomorrow. Oh, is he? Si, Senor Hale. It's a great honor to ride the Senora Cannonball. Yes. Well, Cannonball, I want to reserve all the other seats. I'm taking some clients to red-lead your business. I'll hold the places for you. Yes. Then I'll be going. I don't like that, Kyle. A few minutes later, lawyer Hale let himself into a room above a saddler's shop. As he entered, Dodge McAllister, who had been playing cards with his henchmen, Gooseneck, Slim, and Lucky Lou, looked up in surprise. Sid, did you get the seats? Yes, all but one. A Mexican ranchero has it. He may be dangerous. What'll we do about him? I planned to tell Cannonball at the last minute that I couldn't use any of the seats. Now I'll make the trip. That's a good idea, Sid. If the Mexican draws his guns, I'll be right there to stop him. I'll need a horse after the holdup, so I'll have an extra one on hand. There'll be a horse for you. It was the following forenoon when Cannonball's big scarlet and yellow Concord coach rolled westward along the second stretch of the run from Circle City to Red Ledge. Inside the stage, the lone ranger in his Mexican disguise occupied the seat which covered the built-in strongbox. He had no idea that lawyer Hale, who faced him from the front seat, was the mastermind of the holdup gang. Hale was saying, Senor, in about 15 minutes, we'll be at Hairpin Bend. He's a dangerous place, no? Very dangerous. The trail follows a 12-foot ledge there and makes a sharp turn. On one side is a high bluff. On the other, a drop of 500 feet. It takes sure-footed horses, an expert driver to handle them in that part of the trail. A lot of stage coaches have gone over trying to make that turn. He's a good thing, Senora Cannonball Drive this stage, huh? Even she has to walk her horses around the bend. Banditos, keep down, Senor Hale. Opening one of the stage doors slightly, the lone ranger drew his guns and prepared to leap out. Dodge McAllister, Gooseneck and Slim, who were on horseback and had their faces covered with bandanas, began to close in. As they came into his line of vision, the lone ranger shouted, That's those guns! Before he could follow up his command with action, lawyer Hale yanked a cold peacemaker from inside his shirt and lashed out with it. The barrel of the six-gun caught the lone ranger flush on the temple. 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. Attacked from behind by the treacherous lawyer, Sid Hale, the lone ranger fell senseless on the floor of Cannonball McKay's stagecoach. Hale was shouting to his confederates. I've taken care of the Mexicans! At that moment, Lucky Lou rose from his hiding place above the stage and cast the loop of a lariat down upon the woman driver. The loop was too large. It slid down from her arms and shoulders and did not tighten until it reached her ankles. Surprised and angered, Cannonball forgot the lone ranger's instructions about holding fire. Raising her shoulder-slung scattergun, she lined the barrels on the nearest mounted outlaw. Old Betsy thundered. I'm hit! My shoulder! Before Cannonball could fire again, Lucky Lou jerked on the rope. Her feet shot out from under her. She plummeted from the driver's box with a yell. Landing on the rocky trail, she lay stunned. Jumping from the stage, Lawyer Hale examined her, while Lucky Lou clambered down from his post, and the other outlaws, taking off their masks, joined them. Lucky! Search her for the key to the strongbox. Right. There'll be time enough to dispose of her in the Mexican after we find the key. All right, but look at my shoulder. I've unbuttoned my shirt. Just pull it down. See, that's a nasty shotgun wound, huh? There'll be slugs in there. They'll have to be taken out, but I'll need pincers to get them. The best I can do now is to put her on a bandage. As Lawyer Hale finished placing a temporary bandage on Dodge McAllister's wound, Lucky Lou reported the results of his search. Cannonball doesn't have the key on it, and I can't find it anywhere on the stage either. I'll make her tell where it is as soon as she comes to. Heave her into the stage with the Mexican, and let's get the outfit off the trail before someone comes along. Come on, Cannonball. For once, you'll ride inside the stage. All right, get in there. Well, that's it. She's in with the Mexican now, Sid. Let's get aboard the stage and get rolling. Hey, look, coming up the trail behind us. That fellow rides like an Indian. Oh, he is an Indian. He has an extra horse. He's riding in fast. Shoot him. He stopped out of pistol range. He's going to use the Winchester. Get her to cover those rocks. Doggone. We just got to cover in time. Those slugs are coming mighty close. We've got to get that redskin. We can't hit him with pistols. He's too far away. We'll wait for him to come closer. Then we'll get him. At that instant, one of Toto's bullets glanced off a rock. and grazed the flank of one of the stagehorses. It squealed with pain and terror and began to prance. The other horses, already frightened by the gunfire, panicked and took off at a mad gallop. Look, the stagehorses are running away. They can't make that turn at half-pinned bend without a driver. The best whip in the world couldn't get the coach around the bend at the rate. There goes. The engine's still firing. What do we do? He can pick us off with that Winchester if we show ourselves. If he comes a little closer, we can drop him. Toto knew that if he advanced, he'd be within range of the outlaw's pistols. And as long as McAllister and his friends remained behind the shelter of rocks, he couldn't hope to wound them. The Indian had seen Cannonball's frightened team run away with a big Concord stage. He made a quick decision. He wheeled Scout and turned away from the scene of the attempted robbery. Get him up, Scout. Come on, Silver. Meanwhile, the stampeding horses raced along the trail toward Hairpin Bend. The body of the big Concord coach rocked and bounced on the heavy leather straps which attached it to the running gear. Jolted back to consciousness, the Lone Ranger thought first of Cannonball McKay. Lifting her into a seat, he took down a canteen with which the coach was equipped and dashed water into her face. Mister, what's going on? I haven't found out. Look out the window. We're laughing along mighty fast. Who's driving? No one. The horses are running away. Say, what are you doing? Climbing outside. Better reach the lines and stop the horses. As Cannonball protested, the Lone Ranger caught hold of the brass railing which kept baggage from sliding off the top of the stage. Straining his muscles to the utmost, he hoisted himself up and over the metalwork. Cannonball thrust her head out of the window below him and called... Hold the lead horses by name. They're Gypsy and Rambler. Who's Gypsy? Who's Rambler? Who's? Standing up on the driver's footboard, the Lone Ranger thawed on the six lines and jammed down the pedal of the brakes as the stagecoach rocketed on toward destruction. Oh, Gypsy. Hold on, Rambler. Oh. Whoa, you critters. Whoa, there. Whoa. The lead and wheel teams began to yield to the Lone Ranger's powerful pull on the leather. The big vehicle slowed slightly. Then it was at the bend. This is it. Gina. Gina. Gina. The Lone Ranger pulled the inside horses so close to the face of the bluff that their flanks rubbed the rocks. Then the stagecoach rounded the rest of the bend into a straight stretch of safe trail. The Lone Ranger gave the horses their heads. Get up. Get up, Gypsy. Rambler. Meanwhile, the outlaws had seen Tonto ride away. They watched until the Indian was out of sight, then mounted their horses and headed toward Hairpin Bend. Hold on, boy. Huff it. When they came within view of the treacherous turn, they were surprised to find that the stage was not a wreck at the bottom of the ledge. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Steady. Steady. I don't savvy how those critters managed to get around the bend without a driver. Now what'll we do, Dodge? Try to catch the stage? No, we'll head it off. Cut off the trail and head cross country. Come on, get up. As the outlaws came to the crest of the hill, they sighted the stage in the valley below. It was coming to a halt as a group of horsemen approached from the opposite direction. Wait a minute, boys. Bring in your horses. Boys, notice the man meeting the stage. He looks like the sheriff to me. Yes, it is the sheriff. And he has a pussy with him. We don't want to be seen by that many men. They blow our alibi sky high. Good thing we saw them before they saw us. We better cut back through the hills and get the town to establish alibi. What about the cast? Yeah, we'll have to let it go. We can't attack the stage with the sheriff's posse on hand. Come on, let's clear out of here. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on. Come on. The outlaws were heading back to town as the lone ranger halted the stage and climbed down. Cannonball emerged from the interior of the coach. Soon they were joined by Sheriff Harvey and his posse, and then by Tottle leading the great horse, Silver. Come on, stop. Oh, Silver. The Indian explained how he had opened fire on McAllister and the other outlaws. Me see stage and run away horses. Me ride way. Turn off trail. Take shortcut. Come here. You held the attention of McAllister and his pals, Tottle. May account for why they didn't follow the stage. Cannonball. You and this Mexican gent and the Indian have had a powerful lot of trouble for nothing. How come, Sheriff? When we get back to town, we're likely to find the gang waiting for us, with a lot of fellows who'll swear they weren't out here. My friend and I know better, Sheriff. It'll be the word of three of you against that of maybe a dozen crooks and liars. They'll go scot-free again. By thunder, if that's the case, I'll take the law into my own hands. I'll plug those varmints on sight. I've already winged McAllister. Cannonball. Did you wing McAllister with your scattergun? I sure did. Gave him the right barrel. I... Sad. Never mind saying it now. Do you think you're able to drive back to Circle City? Why, sure. I'll get up on the box now. All right, Silver. Big fella, easy. Mister, you're no Mexican. No, Sheriff, I'm not. Who in tarnation are you? Cannonball will explain. Now, I suggest we go to town and meet the alibi boys. All right. Come on, fellas. Come on, Phil. Come on, Phil. Come on, Phil. Come on, Phil. In town, two of the outlaws stood with four homesteaders, watching the arrival of the stagecoach. While a few yards away, Dodge McAllister complained to lawyer Sid Hale. Listen, Sid. Just putting on a clean shirt to cover the bandage doesn't help my shoulder. You've got to do something. You've got to get some pinches and get the slugs out. I can't stand this pain much longer. You don't have much longer to wait, Dodge. The stage is in. The sheriff will be coming here to ask questions. As soon as we're through with him, we'll take care of you all. Here he comes now with Cannonball and the pussy. Yes, the mixing is with him, too. Okay. There's the Indian. Let's join the others. We've got to make sure those homesteaders give us an alibi. Dodge McAllister, I'm arresting you and your pals for trying to hold up the stage this morning. I want you, too, lawyer Hale. Sheriff, you're persecuting us again. We were playing cards all day with these four honest homesteaders. Save that for the judge. You're under arrest. Get your hands up all again. That lying cold case. The sheriff said for you to raise your hand. My shoulder is lame. I'll help you carry out the order. I'll raise your hand. Let go. Let go. Let go. Be quiet. What's the matter with the shoulder? You seem to... Yes. You have a bandage beneath the shirt. Let me alone. I'll tell you what's wrong with that shoulder. That's where I shot the crook with my scattergun. And I had the key to the strongbox in that gun. No, you lie, Hannibal. You need attention, McAllister. Is there a doctor here? Yeah, I'm a horse doctor, but I sometimes fix up humans. You'll examine this man's shoulder. You may discover evidence to prove he was at the scene of the attempted robbery. My shoulder's all right. Just sprain, that's all. Now let me go. I won't be worked on by a horse doctor. You've nothing to fear if you're telling the truth. Grab him, boys. Hold him for the... In spite of the gang leader's howls of pain and protest, the horse doctor probed the shoulder wound and brought out a piece of metal. I'll be cowlicked if it isn't a key. There it is, Sheriff. The key to the strongbox in my coach. The masked man... I mean, the Mexican told me to hide it in my skater gun. Dodge wanted it, and he got it. Shot into him. That key proves McAllister took part in the attempted robbery in spite of any alibi. You better mark the key. A jury will want to see it tried on the lock later on. Witness this, you possumon. I'm marking this key. There. Now you'll all know it again. I know it more. You homesteaders. You were about to purge yourselves with a lying alibi. You want to go to jail? Don't arrest us, Sheriff. They said we'd get the same as Dave Harrison unless we did as we were told. That's right, Sheriff. They threatened to kill us and our families if we didn't back their word. We never saw those men until they rode in here and now go. There goes your alibi, Dodge. Now about Dave Harrison. Dodge, you might escape a lynching bee if you talk. Don't say a word, Dodge. I'll get you out of these. I don't want to be lynched. I'll talk. You, Snake, Slim, Lucky, and I pulled every job we've been arrested for. Sid Hale fixed our alibis for us and took most of our brutal for doing it. And he killed Dave Harrison. I'm getting out of here. Oh, no, you're not. Let go of me. Not a chair, Senor Hale. You are no Mexican? No, but I owe you something for hitting me with a gun barrel, Senor Hale. Here's an American uppercut. Boys, pick that law shark up. Take him and the other varmints to jail. Put him in iron. All right, Sheriff. Come on. Mister, I'm sure beholden to you and Cannonball for breaking up that gang. You're not a netador, Sheriff. You did your best against crooks who knew how to beat the law. They might have gone on robbing, killing, and corrupting, except for they used Cannonball made of her key. And that key unlocked plenty of things. Yes, Tonto. Now it's time for us to go. Easy, sir. Easy, fella. Adios, Cannonball. Adios, Sheriff. Adios. Come on. Cannonball. You said that gent was a friend of yours. Who is he? Well, Sheriff, a better stage driver than I am. But then you'd expect that of 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. Lone Ranger owner, Lone Ranger. I know. I know. I know. I know.
