A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-yo silver, the Lone Ranger. Companion Tonto, a 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? Away! During the latter days of the War of the States, the Confederacy was desperately in need of gold. There were sympathetic gold mine owners in the rich community of Gold Creek in the Colorado Territory. They collected one million dollars in bullion. It was loaded into heavy wagons, and Jim Bledsoe was in charge of the brave volunteers who were to take the wagons to far off Virginia. They were ready to leave in the middle of the night. One million in gold. That'll mean a lot to Jeff Davis. Yeah, it will if it gets past the blockade. Blockade? Jim Bledsoe knows about it. The Northerners know there'll be an attempt to take gold to Virginia. They'll have plenty of troops watching all the trails. Do you think you can get through, Jim? I hope to, by avoiding the trails. You may be sure we'll do our best, and I'll promise you this. If we see that we can't get through, we'll try to make sure the Northerners don't get the gold. You ready, boys? All right. All right, let's go. Come on, get up there. Get up there. One million dollars in gold bullion left Gold Creek that night. Months later, lifeless bodies found in an arid, remote valley were identified as those of Jim Bledsoe and his companions. But the gold in the wagons and the horses that drew the wagons seemingly disappeared into thin air. The war gave way to peace. Years later, in 1876, Colorado was admitted to the Union. And that year in Washington, a middle-aged man named Jonathan Drake lay on his deathbed, dictating to a younger man his secretary. You've been dictating steadily, Mr. Drake. Don't you want to rest a little while? No, no, Merkel. My life expectancy is very short. But I must finish this document. Is my son here? Yes, sir. He's waiting in the library. He knows what the doctors have said about my heart? Yes, sir. Very well. I'll continue on. Where was I? You had just finished telling about the wagons that had left Gold Creek on the night of April 14th. Oh, yes. I am the sole survivor of that party. It was generally believed that Jim Bledsoe and everyone in the party were killed by the Union soldiers. This is not true. I survived. Though wounded, I managed to crawl away from the valley. Indians found me and took care of me until I was able to return to my wife and son in the East. I alone know where the wagons with their gold cargo are hidden. You do, sir? Please don't interrupt me. Sorry, Mr. Drake. My son will leave St. Joe by stagecoach on the 15th of the month, carrying a map showing where the gold is buried. I pray that you will see that it is recovered and used to good advantage. That is all, my girl. Write the letter and bring it to me. You haven't told me where to send it, sir. My son will see that it's mailed. Ask him to come here. And the maps? Please do as I request. Ask my son to come here. Very well. How's my father? He's very tired, but he wants to see you. David. I don't care what the doctors say. You're going to be all right. You're not an old man. Oh, the doctor's a right son, I know it. I haven't been well for many years. But I have no complaint. I've seen you grow to manhood. If you promise to follow my instructions to the letter, I'll die content to you. I'll do anything you ask. David, have you ever heard of the Lone Ranger? Oh, yes, sir. He just completed a mission for the government. Here, David. This envelope is addressed to a padre in the West. He'll see that the letter inside is given to the Lone Ranger. But, sir, the envelope is empty. I've dictated the letter to Merkel. He'll give it to you when it's written. I want no one but you to know where the letter is sent. You may read it before mailing. Yes, sir. And here's an easy map. I drew it myself. It's small, so you can conceal it easily. I want you to go to St. Joseph, Missouri. Leave there on the westbound stage on the 15th of the month. Go to the padre's mission. The address is on the envelope. Why not send the map with your letter, sir? The letter might be lost or stolen. It might go astray or fall into the wrong hands. If so, it will be worthless without the map. I see. I want the letter to go ahead in the hope that the padre will have the Lone Ranger waiting at the mission when you arrive. Son, be sure you hand that map to the Lone Ranger. No one else. Jonathan Drake died one week after the letter was mailed to the padre. Following the funeral, Merkel, the secretary, left Washington, ostensibly to take work elsewhere. A few days later, David Drake started on his trip. He reached St. Joseph, Missouri and boarded a stagecoach on the 15th of the month in accordance with his father's last request. On that same day, many miles westward, the Lone Ranger and Tonto drew rain in the patio of the mission. The padre welcomed them warmly. My friends, it is good to see you. I'm glad you've come. Hello, padre. Hello, padre. Padre, an Indian told us you wanted to see us. Yes, my friend. I sent out the word in the hope that you would come here quickly. I have a letter for you. It is from Washington. The masked man read Drake's letter carefully. My son will leave St. Joe on the 15th of the month carrying a map showing where the gold is buried. I pray that you will see that it is recovered and used to good advantage. Signed, Jonathan Drake. A million dollars. That heap plenty gold. Amigo, much that is good might be done with so much gold. Yes, padre. You must think well before you decide where it is to go. Padre, that gold came from the people in a small community known as Gold Creek. Si, I know. The names of the individuals who gave the gold are not known. Furthermore, many of those people have probably left the community. They have left? Yes. The rich gold claims were worked out and abandoned a few years ago. The only people in Gold Creek are those who have no money to start a new life somewhere else. They have homes and children. They're hanging on doggedly trying to eke out an existence by farming and working the abandoned mines. Hmm, I see. They need help. They deserve it. If the buried gold is found, it should be used to help the community from which it came. Then you propose to divide it among the people? No, padre. I think it should be used to buy and install machinery. Machinery? Yes. With mining machinery, the low-grade ore that remains in the mountains might be profitably refined. In addition to gold, there is silver to be extracted, also other metals. There would be work for everyone who wanted it. Amigo, that is good. But a million dollars will do more than that. There will be enough left over to build a school and a church and do many other things. Let us hope and pray that the buried gold will be recovered. Tonto, I want to meet David Drake as soon as possible. Letters say him leave St. Joe 15th a month. That is today. We'll save several days if we ride east to meet him on the stagecoach trail. That right. We'll start as soon as possible. Sunset found the Lone Ranger and Tonto riding east. And at the same time, Dave Drake headed in the opposite direction in a stagecoach from St. Joe. At sunset of the same day, Merkle sat in a cafe in the town of Orville. Orville was on the stagecoach trail about halfway between St. Joe and Gold Creek. Merkle had gone there soon after the death of his employer, Jonathan Drake, and had waited several days for the arrival of a man named Gorman. He rose from his seat as Gorman entered the cafe and approached the table. Well, Gorman, glad to see you. Hello, Merkle. Sit down. Thanks. I'd begun to wonder if you received my letter. You told me to come here with four or five men I could trust. Took a day or so to line them up. Did you bring them? Yes, they're waiting at the hotel. Good. What's the deal, Merkle? Another blackmail scheme like we worked in Washington? No, nothing like that. You know, you gave me the short end of that deal. You made a lot of money. Yes, but I was the front man. I was the fall guy. I was the one who had to run and hide when things got hot. You'll be glad I was able to remain in Washington as Drake's secretary when you hear what I have lined up. Well, it better be good, Merkle. Is a million dollars good? Paper money? Gold bullion. Are you serious? Gorman, just before Drake died, he dictated a letter to me. I made a copy of it. Is that it? Yes. While you read it, I'll find the waiter and order food. Gorman read the letter carefully, then folded it and handed it to Merkle. You know where the letter was sent? No. Didn't you mail it? No, Gorman. Drake had his son mail it. Hmm. I guess he didn't trust you too far. That doesn't matter. The map is the important thing. Drake's son has the map. Yes. Do you have a copy of it? No. Well, we'll have to get the original. And he's on the stagecoach. Right. In other words, we'll have to hold up the stage. That's why I asked you to bring men with you. Well, even after losing the map, young Drake would go on to his destination. There he'd find help. He'd probably remember the general location of the buried gold. Might even remember enough to draw another map. That's right, Gorman. There's just one way to be sure Dave Drake will not make trouble. In addition to holding up a stagecoach, we'll have to commit murder. We're playing for high stakes. Yes, and we'll hang if we're caught. The prize is a million dollars in gold. All right, Marco. I'm with you on one condition. What's that? You share the risk. When we played our game in Washington, you stayed in the background. When the lid blew off, I was the one who had to run and hide. You were in the clear. Well, on this deal, you pack a gun and help the rest of us hold up the stage. Well, all right. And that's settled. Now to pick a place for the job. Do you know how far west Drake plans to go? No. But from the things he said, I'm sure he's going beyond Gold Creek. Good. I know a perfect spot a few miles this side of Gold Creek. The ground's too rocky to show our tracks. The place is desolate. There'll be no one near to hear the gun play. It's just the right place for a murder. 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. The stagecoach arrived in Orville on schedule. And Dave Drake was the only passenger. He stepped out to stretch his legs and saw the driver climbing down from the high seat. How long do we stop here, driver? Long enough to change horses. Walk around if you'll mind to. Oh, good. I'm going to look at rifles. There's a first-rate store right next door. Oh, yes, I saw it. You'll have at least half an hour. All right. Howdy, mister. Oh, hello. I just arrived from the east. Yep, saw you leaving the stage. Going far? Oh, yes. Yes, I am. And I'd like to have a rifle with me. Mister, I'll show you the finest rifle that's ever been made. It's right here. It's a new model Winchester. Winchester 73. Here, heft it. That's a carbine size. Carries 12 cartridges and this magazine beneath the barrel. What size cartridges? 44s. Here's a box of them. Let's step outside and I'll show you how it works. This is live ammunition. Very well. Now, there's a place right here on the side of the rifle. And you shove the cartridges in here like this. Oh, I see. You put in 12 cartridges. One right after the other. I had two of these 73s. Sold one a couple of days ago to a man who was traveling west. There. She's loaded. Now, to operate, you just pull down this lever. Now, see how the breach is open? Yes. And the cartridge in position. Now, close the lever. Now, it's ready to fire. After firing, you just lever it again. Watch. Hey. Oh. Did you see a throw at the cartridge? Oh, yes. I'll pick it up. If I'd have fired, that would have been the empty shell, you see. Yes. A man can fire 12 times, just as fast as he can work the lever. And every shot goes true to the mark. Heats like a sledgehammer. All right. You've sold the rifle. Son, this Winchester is one buy that you'll never regret. Proudly holding his new Winchester, Dave boarded the stage and the trip continued. Come on. Get up there. Get up. The stagecoach heading west was right on schedule. It would reach Gold Creek on the following afternoon. From time to time, Dave Drake amused himself by firing out the window at rocks and forefronts. The floor of the stagecoach was littered with empty shells. About six miles east of Gold Creek, the killers were waiting. Gorman had bought a Winchester like Dave's. The finest rifle I ever saw. I'll pick off the driver of that stage with the first shot. You wait and see. It's Drake we're after. Well, I have to get the driver first. It'll be harder to hit a man inside the stage. But we'll get him. The following afternoon, the Lone Ranger drew rain at the edge of Gold Creek. While Tonto went on alone to inquire about the stagecoach, the Indian brought back a report. Who's going on, fella? Oh. Kimo Sabe. We ahead of time. Stage from east. Not due for maybe two hours. Well, that's good. We'll meet Dave Drake on the trail instead of in town. There'll not be a lot of people around to ask questions about this mask. We circle town? Yes. Let's go, Tonto. One, settle there. Come on, scound. On the eastern side of town, the trail was made up of one sharp turn after another as it wound through the mountains. The two men had been riding for nearly an hour without finding a single stretch of straight road. Suddenly, they heard the sound of gunfire. Someone's shooting. That means trouble. Come on, settle there. Let's go. Gorman's first shot had struck the driver of the stage. As he slumped unconscious and dropped the reins, the horses loaded. Dave returned the fire through the window. His first bullet struck and shattered Gorman's rifle and sent Gorman leaping to the protection of a rock. Drake levered the 73 and fired at the other men who had come into view. The effective accuracy of the new Winchester sent three sprawling to the ground. Merkel and the other two raced for cover, firing with their pistols. One dropped with a bullet in the leg. The remaining two reached the rock that sheltered Gorman. Gorman. Gorman, I didn't figure on anything like this. I smashed my rifle. All I have left is this six gun. Keep firing, Merkel. You too, Jake. I can hardly see him inside that stage. Just pull that into it. One of the bullets is sure to hit him. He stopped shooting. Maybe he's reloading. Yeah, or maybe we got him. Now, Jake, you keep your eye on the window of that stagecoach. I'm going over there. Be careful, Gorman. If he sticks his head up to fire, let him have it. Dave lay on the floor inside the stagecoach, bleeding from two feet. Two wounds. His strength was ebbing fast. His fingers were clumsy as he reloaded the rifle. He thought of the map and knew it would be found if he were searched. He drew it from his pocket and wondered where to hide it. It was on a small piece of paper, about six inches square, and folded twice. He folded it again, then again. He rolled the compact little square into a cylinder while he tried to think of a place to hide it. He felt lightheaded, giddy. He knew he would soon slip into oblivion. Where to hide that priceless map? Where to hide it? Meanwhile, Gorman had come to within a few paces of the stagecoach. All right, you're covered, Drake. He's trying to fight any longer. We have you. The outlaw snatched open the door and saw Dave Drake on the floor unconscious. We got it, boys. Now look around for the map. You'll see how bad our pals are wounded. Gorman saw the rifle, a new one like his own. Well, here's luck. I'll take this rifle in place of the one you smashed. Many thanks, Drake. Gorman drew a cartridge from his belt and tried to slip it into the magazine. It wouldn't go. I loaded full. Well, that's fine. He stood the rifle on the ground, leaning against the side of the stagecoach, then bent over the unconscious man. He found a wallet and went through it. Yeah, no map here. In Drake's pockets, Gorman found a knife, match safe, coins, a key, but no map. Then suddenly, he heard a shout. Hey, Gorman, someone's coming. Gorman saw two horsemen approaching fast. One was masked. The other was an Indian. We've been guns. All right, shoot him. I gotta find the map. Open fire on him. Jake and Merkle opened fire, but they were poor shots. Gorman grabbed Drake's rifle. Yeah, I'll drop him with this. He levered the weapon to bring a shell into firing position, but the rifle jammed. What's wrong? He tried the lever several times, then dropped the Winchester and drew his six gun. He fired several times at the oncoming masked man and the Indian, but the distance was too great for a mediocre marksman. Gorman's gun was empty. He leaped from the trail to the brush-covered hillside in a frenzied flight to save his life. Meanwhile, Jake and Merkle had emptied their guns. Jake went down with a bullet in the leg and Merkle threw up his hand. I give up. Don't shoot. Don't shoot me. My leg. My leg's hurt. He's in cover, Tuttle. I'll go after the man who went in the underbrush on the hill. The lone ranger raced ahead to the hillside near the stagecoach. He leaped from the saddle and started through the underbrush in pursuit of Gorman. Gorman slipped and stumbled on the steep hillside. He needed both hands to hang on. There was no chance to reload his gun. He looked over his shoulder and saw the masked man coming. I want you. Keep away, you hear? Keep away, I'll shoot. I'll return it. The outlaw knew he could not out-distance the sure-footed masked man. Suddenly, he turned and attacked. I'll take you. Now we'll settle it. The lone ranger sidestepped and met Gorman's charge with a crashing blow to the jaw. Here's another. Gorman went down. His eyes were glassy as he lay in the brushwood. Had enough. I'll take your gun. You'll not need it. Empty. Just as I thought. Stand up, mister. I'll help you down the hill. The masked man and Tuttle tied the hands and feet of Merkle and Gorman, then gave attention to the wounded. Dave's wounds were bloody but not serious. The stage driver had only a superficial brush on the side of his head. Some of Gorman's men were dead. The others with wounds bandaged were tied and placed with Gorman and Merkle close to the stagecoach. By the time the work was completed, Dave had regained consciousness. He looked at the masked man. You've certainly taken care of everything. Who are you, mister? I'm the man who was to meet Dave Drake. That's my name. I thought as much. Here, Dave, is the letter I received from your father. He sent it to a mission? Yes, that's where I received it. I came from there to meet you. You were to have a map. A map? Yes, I... I've been trying to remember where I hid it. You've lost it? I... I don't know. Just as I was losing consciousness, I... It was rolled up small. I intended to hide it. Did these men intend to steal it? Oh, yes. That one. Merkle was my father's secretary. He knew about the map. Listen, let me talk. I was... I was forced into this. You be dealt with with the law, Merkle. Uh, Tonto, search that man again. I may have missed the map when I went through his pocket. Ah, me do it. I haven't got the map. I admit I look for it, but I couldn't find it. I remember I'd just finished loading my rifle. Oh, what rifle? Oh, that one. There on the ground. Oh, is that yours? Yes. A new .73 Winchester. The best that's ever been made. Ah, it's no good. It jammed. Otherwise, I'd have killed both you and that redskin. This rifle jammed? I... Oh. What the matter, Kimaselli? A small roll of paper is wedged partway into the chamber. No wonder it wouldn't work. The Lone Ranger found it necessary to use his knife to pry out the jammed paper. He unrolled it. This seems to be a map. It is. Now I remember. I had it rolled up about the size of a cartridge. I shoved it into the magazine. And when that man levered the rifle, the map was jammed into the chamber in place of a cartridge. Oh, now everything's all right. We'll find that gold. But what's to be done with it? Dave, I think it should be used in the interest of the people of Gold Creek. That's the town it came from. Good. It will build a school and church and set up mining machinery so everyone in the community will prosper. My dad wanted you to do what's best. Can you and the driver help Tonno guard these prisoners for an hour or two? Of course. You bet we can. Then I'll ride to town and bring back the sheriff, a doctor, and some men to help take charge of the crooks. Then you, Dave, might tell the townsmen what the future holds for them. It'll be the greatest news I've ever heard. He's east of the living, Philip. Adios. Adios, please. That masked man sure saved our next, Dave. But who is he, driver? He's the one man in all the world who my dad trusted. He's the Lone Ranger. This is a feature of the Lone Ranger, Incorporated, created by George W. Trendle, produced by Trendle Campbell Muir, Incorporated, and directed by Charles D. Livingston. Tonight's drama was written by Fran Stryker. A part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer.
