A fiery horse with a speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-yo silver. The Lone Ranger. 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 fella. Are you, Silver? In the fall of the year, a group of easterners led by Big Bill Farnsworth settled on land that had just been open for homesteading. They built their houses and eked out a bare existence through the hard winter. In early spring, as soon as the frost was out of the ground, they prepared to break the soil and plant their crops. But first, they had to fence their land. That'll do it, Jim. Let's see. Yeah, that post is good and solid. Hey, look. We're having visitors. Huh? Yeah, Bevan and a couple of his cowhands. Was he the rancher who called on you last week? Same gent. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Hey, howdy. Howdy, Mr. Bevan. Hello, Farnsworth. This is Jim Larkin. Jim, shake hands with Mr. Bevan. He's one of the biggest ranchers in these parts. Hello, Mr. Bevan. Heard a lot about you. Hello. Well, Farnsworth and my boys here reported that you nesters were driving posts into the ground. That's right, Mr. Bevan. Maybe you didn't hear me when I warned you about fencing this open-range land. I heard you, Mr. Bevan. Then I checked on the law. This land is no longer open-range. It's homestead land, and we have a right to fence it. This is cattle country. Yeah, that's right. And if we don't have strong fences, the cattle will tromp down our crops. Cattlemen run, cattle country. We make our own laws, Farnsworth. You come here, you abide by them. Or else. We know our right. And we know ours. We've always used this land for range, and we're going to keep on using it. You're free to use what we don't fence. You're not fencing any of it. Why, leave it easy, Jim. You build any fence, and you'll have us to deal with. I'll deal with you right now. Roll it, Nestor. A gun on me, huh? Well, I'll show you. That'll do, Lefty. You shot... I just shot your hat off as a warning. Now, don't ever try to throw your weight around, Nestor. Next time, I'll aim a little lower. Farnsworth, you've had your warning. Come on, boys. Get up! Get up! Come on! Get up! The bullet fired from the hip by the Bevan ranch hand had streaked upward after passing through Jim Larkin's hat. It still had deadly force when it reached the crest of a nearby ridge. There, the carelessly fired bullet found a mark. Oh! It struck the side of a man on horseback with force enough to knock him from the saddle. That man wore a mask. He was the Lone Ranger. Bleeding badly. Must get to saddle. The Lone Ranger mustered all of his strength to gain his feet and pull himself onto the back of the great horse, Silver. Now, Silver, take me to Tonto. Silver headed down the southern side of the range of hills, away from the valley, where the pioneers had made new homes. It was later afternoon when Thunder Martin rode hard across the rolling plain toward a wooded area. The heavily built man had been employed for years as foreman of a ranch owned by Claribel Hornblow. He and Claribel were among the closest friends of the Lone Ranger and Tonto. Whoa there, whoa, whoa, whoa there. Hi, Tonto. Thunder Martin, where'd you come from? Claribel's ranch. I came for you. Me? Oh, you know me here? The Lone Ranger told me. What him go to Valley, not the Hornblow Ranch. Yes, I know that. And on his way back, he was hit by a bullet. Huh? Then he saddle Scalp right away. I'll give you a hand. Maybe save time. Steady, Scalp. Steady, fella. That's where Lone Ranger now. Claribel's ranch. After he was hit, he started for here. He was riding past the ranch when he realized he was too weak to travel this far. So he turned in. He told me what had happened and sent me for you. He's ready now. He's got to keep it up. Get him up, Scalp. Get him up. At the ranch house, Tonto found his friend pale and weak from shock and loss of blood. The Indian examined the ugly wound and applied a fresh dressing. By the time he had finished, the Lone Ranger had regained consciousness. He murmured softly. Work. Work to be done, Kimisabe. You not work for a long time. You rest. Trouble. Homesteaders. Cattle. Let me know, Kimisabe. Long time ago, you say, there'd be trouble when homestead men want fences. Must. Must prevent. Range war. Must not have. The Lone Ranger slipped into unconsciousness. Clarabelle brought extra blankets so Tonto could sleep on the bedroom floor. But the Indian didn't sleep that night. He maintained a vigil at the bedside. The Lone Ranger wakened several times. Each time, he talked about preventing a range war. He mentioned the names of ranchers and homesteaders. At daybreak, Tonto said, Me watch, Kimisabe. If rancher plan trouble, me find out. Now you rest. You not worry. Oh. All right, Tonto. You. The following evening, Tonto rode to the cattle town of Osage, some distance north of the Hornblow Ranch. He was looking for one of the leading ranchers, the man named Bevan. Acting on the Lone Ranger's instructions, he planned to watch Bevan closely in the hope of learning what the cattlemen were planning. Tonto entered the cafe and stood quietly near the door. In a few moments, two men came in. The Indian recognized them from the Lone Ranger's description. Their names were Miller and Bevan. They stood just inside the door and looked around. Tonto moved nearer. Did Collins say he'd meet us here? Gave his word. He's as anxious as we are to keep those homesteaders in line. Oh, I see. He sees us. He's a-coming this way. Oh, good. If Collins will stick with us, we'll have no trouble. The owners of the smaller ranchers will follow our lead. Hello, Collins. Howdy, Bevan. Glad to see you, Miller. Same here. I was here early, so I asked Baldy about the back room. He said we're welcome to use it for our meeting. Good. Be easier to talk there. Let's go. While the three ranchers walked through the smoke-filled room, Tonto went out the front door and hurried around the outside to the dark area behind the building. Collins opened the door to the back room. After you, gents. Whew. Stuffy in here. I'll open the window. This meeting was your idea, Bevan. Start talking. Well, in the first place, all the ranchers use the open range where the homesteaders have settled. Now, if that land is fenced and plowed for crops, we'll have to cut down the size of our herds. Sure enough, right? If the three of us stick together, we can lick the homesteaders. But we've got to stick together. No double-crossing like there's been in the past. You know what I mean, Collins? You needn't look at me. I'm thinking of the time you cut down a bridge so I couldn't get my cattle to the railroad siding. Well, speaking of underhanded tricks, Bevan, I remember when Goose Creek changed its course so it watered your land instead of mine. Oh, that's past history. I admit we've been rivals. We've taken advantage of one another when we saw the chance, but now it's different. There can't be any double-cross if we're to lick the homesteaders. Yeah, that's for sure. I rode to the settlement yesterday. The nesters were driving fence posts. Did you talk to Farnsworth? Yeah, and someone's put him straight on his legal rights. He said he'd go right ahead with the fencing. And today when I went to see him, he and his friends were stringing wire. I gave him a final warning. Good. I figured you meant it back me, so I said we'd all call on him day after tomorrow. Saturday. Yeah. I told him we'd take down any fences that were standing, and we'd come prepared for gunplay. Tonto had heard the conversation. He hurried back to Claribel Hornblow's ranch and spent another night at the bedside of the Lone Ranger. The wounded man could barely speak. Each tortured word was a heavy drain on his strength. Brief intervals of painful conversation were spaced by lengthy periods of restless sleep. The following night found Big Bill Farnsworth pacing the floor of his home. His daughter Jane had just finished clearing the supper table. I hope I made the right decision. I wish I could be sure. You did make the right decision, Dad. Didn't all the men agree with you? They were willing to do whatever I said. Tear down the fences or leave them up and fight the cattlemen. We couldn't have crops without fencing our land. I'll see who it is. Probably one of the men to talk about the fight that's coming up. An Indian? Me, Tonto. Tonto! Come in, come in. Jane Tonto is the friend of that masked man who told us our legal rights a few days ago. I remember you, Tonto. We met you and the Lone Ranger when we were coming over land nearly a year ago. That's right. And we come with message from Lone Ranger. Yes, Tonto? Well, him, no. Cattlemen come here tomorrow to tear down fence. Not if we can help it. We'll fight. No. No, gunplay not good. Plenty people get hurt and some die. We don't want gunplay, Tonto. But if the ranchers force on... I mean, no. And that's why me come here with message from Lone Ranger. I mean, tell plan. Maybe you not have gunplay. If there's any way to save our offenses without bloodshed, I'd sure like to hear it. Tonto outlined the plan that had been suggested during the previous night by the Lone Ranger. Farnsworth and his daughter Jane listened attentively. A little later, the girl left the house and rode with Tonto as an escort to the Miller Ranch. Miller was cleaning and oiling a gun when he heard a rap on the door. I wonder who that is. Good evening. May I come in? Why, sure. Step right in. I'm Jane Farnsworth. I suppose you expected my father. Farnsworth? Yes, of course. Dad couldn't get here, so he sent me in his place. He wants to see the agreement. Agreement? You needn't act as if you knew nothing about it. I'm in on the secret. Father knows I'm to be trusted. That's why he sent me in his place. He'd like to make sure the agreement is in order before he hands over any money. Money? Please, Mr. Bevan, you know all about it. What did you call me? Mr. Bevan. That's your name, isn't it? Don't tell me I've come to the wrong place. I'm sure I took the left branch where the trail divides. I couldn't have made a mistake. 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. Miller had heard enough from Jane Farnsworth to suspect an underhanded deal, another double-crossed by Bevan. He wanted to learn more about it, so he didn't tell the girl that she had made the wrong turn and come to the wrong ranch. Instead, he said... Sit down, Miss Jane. I've got to be mighty careful. I expected to deal with your father. I was taken by surprise when you come here. Sure you understand the deal? Of course I do. Then repeat it to me. Well, tomorrow you and the other ranchers are going to bring your cowhands to tear down our fences. Dad and the other homesteaders will fight. When the fighting starts, you and your cowhands will switch to our side. Uh-huh. Of course, Miller and Collins won't realize that. In the confusion of gunplay, you'll aim at the ranchers and cowhands instead of our people. Dirty double-crossing. It is a double-cross, but you'll be well-paid. We're giving you all the cash we could scrape together. How much? A thousand dollars. Isn't that what was agreed on? Did you bring the cash? No. Dad wants you to come to our house for it, so you and he can discuss the final plans. Will he have the cash there? Dad always keeps his word. He wants to meet you at midnight. Meanwhile, he wants to study the agreement. If you'll sign it, I'll take it with me. Is it ready? Well, Miss Jane, I didn't write it out. I don't like to put something like that in writing. Where'd I be if your dad showed it to Collins and Miller? How can he show it to them if they're killed in the gunfight? Killed? Well, how about Farnsworth signing? And I gotta have proof that he's in on the deal as deep as I am. And I'll know he can't charge me with murder without sharing the guilt. Make a copy of the agreement and bring it with you. Ask Dad to sign the copy when he hands over the cash. I reckon that'll do. I'll write it out. It'll only take a few minutes. Miller, thinking Jane had made a mistake in coming to his house instead of Bevan's, prepared the agreement and the copy of it. He signed the original and handed it to the girl. Well, there you are, ma'am. You tell your dad I'll see him at midnight. I'll tell him. Good night, Mr. Bevan. Good night. Bevan. Double crosser. Planned to murder me, did he? Miller had begun to plan when he let the girl believe that he was Bevan. He felt justified in turning the tables. I'll meet Farnsworth. I'll tell him Jane made a mistake, but I'll abide by it. I'll take the cash and it'll be my men who side with the nesters. Tonto had been waiting nearby. When Jane rejoined him, he led the way to another ranch several miles distant. There he again found concealment in the darkness, while the girl rode close to the door and dismounted. Easy. It was Bevan's home. Bevan himself opened the door. Well, wait. Oh, young lady. I thought my phone... Good evening, sir. Dad couldn't get here himself, so he sent me. He said I should get the agreement from you. Agreement? What agreement? The one you were going to write out and sign. My name is Jane Farnsworth. My dad... Farnsworth? Yes, sir. Dad wants time to study the agreement before he meets you at midnight with the cash. Cash? The thousand dollars. The thousand dollars? And you needn't think I approve of the deal. I think it's simple to plan a cold-blooded shooting of human beings. Even men like Bevan and Miller. Bevan and Miller. Must we stand here in the doorway, Mr. Collins? Aren't you going to ask me in? Oh, yes, yes, yes, miss. Do come in. Bevan didn't tell Jane that his name was not Collins. He asked what he considered artful questions and learned all the details of a double cross without realizing that the girl was quite willing to be drawn out. Tell me, Miss Farnsworth, how'd you find my place? Father told me your house was large and would be well lighted. This looked like it might be the place, so I turned in. And I was right. Bevan accepted the explanation. He conspired to turn the tables on the man he thought had planned the double cross. Like Miller had done, he drew up and signed a simple agreement, which he gave to Jane. There was one more call to make that night. Jane went to the Collins ranch house and talked as she had talked to Miller and Bevan and addressed Collins as Miller with the same result. After the call on Collins, Jane and Tonto returned to the Farnsworth home. Jim Larkin was there, and so were several other homesteaders. Time dragged heavily until the hands of the clock on a shelf approached midnight. In front of the house, the only light came from a window. Tonto and two homesteaders stood in the darkness, watching an approaching horseman who could barely be seen against the faintly starlit sky. When the man drew rain, he was near enough to be identified as the rancher named Collins. You wait. An Indian, huh? Put hands up. And a gun. Me not shoot. Me only take gun. Make sure no one get hurt. There. Now, put hands down. Good work, Tonto. What's the idea? Hey, Farnsworth! I shall not help. Farnsworth know you come. And he also knows we're here with Tonto. You're wrong. Farnsworth didn't know I was coming here. He's expecting someone else. I've got to see him. He may expect you with other fellow. Who else? You see plenty soon. Ma'am, ride this way now. I see someone coming. Can't tell... We're in the shadows, Collins. Ah, we wait in dark for a second man to come. This is a mighty high-handed deal. The oncoming rider saw a horse in front of the house, but thought nothing of it. He couldn't see who waited in the shadows until he drew rain and dismounted. Oh, oh, oh! You put hands up, huh? What is this? What is this, I say? Bevan, what are you doing here, Collins? Why, you... Ain't a gun, Bevan. Put hands up. We're with the engine, Bevan. Don't resist. Oh, he got a gun. Collins, you double-crossing sidewinder. Now, Bevan, put hands down. Collins, I'll break you for this. First you make a deal with the nesters, and then you team up with the reds. Now, hold on. You think you'll get away with double-crossing me? Miller is a double-crosser. He was going to cross both of us. You made a deal with Farnsworth. Miller made the deal, and I can prove it. And by the way, Bevan, what are you doing here? Wait. Here come another fellow. It must be Miller. It is Miller. I know the way he sits a saddle. Miller, I know about your double-cross. Collins, is that you? Yes, and I'm here with him. Bevan, you double-crossing, scheming, sneaking... Put hands up. Who's that? And we're back in his play. Now you give up guns. Draw guns slow and drop on ground. All right, I'm a-doing it. Where's Farnsworth? Him inside. Collins, listen to me. Bevan planned to double-cross both of us and deal with the nesters. That's a lie. It's Collins who planned to double-cross. I did not. That is not at first. Miller sold out to Farnsworth. I did not. Collins, I'll make you eat them work. Swing on me, will you? Collins is the double-crosser. I'll help you deal with him, Miller. You're the double-crosser, Bevan, and this is for you. I'll teach you to hit me. The fight was three-cornered. Each rancher tried to mete out punishment to one man while defending himself against another. It was a battle royal for several minutes. Then Farnsworth opened the door and called to Tonto and the two homesteaders who were with him. That's enough. Break it up. Bring those three inside. A few minutes later, three bruised and breathless ranchers were in Farnsworth's home. The leader of the homesteaders looked at them for a moment, then said, By now you men probably realize what happened. My daughter called on each of you and gave you the chance to double-cross the other two. Each of you seized the opportunity. Each of you wrote an agreement, then came here hoping to close a deal with me. You three men are angry. You're fighting mad. Not at us homesteaders. That's proved by the fact that each of you was willing to fight on our side. You're angry at each other. Each of you has made two enemies in frontier country, where survival depends on friends. Are you going to maintain a three-cornered feud until all three of you are broke or killed? Oh, you know better than that. Now, I've read the agreements each of you wrote. I don't like them. I have an agreement of my own to submit. A verbal agreement, sealed by a handclasp. Your word of honor, that you'll not molest us. You'll not tear down our fences. Our word of honor, that we'll not fence off any water from the open range beyond our land. And our pledge of friendship, in exchange for yours. Now, that kind of an agreement makes some sense. Farnsworth, are you speaking for all the homesteaders? Yep. He sure is. Well, I don't expect Collins and Miller are big enough men to admit they've been showed up as tin-horned double-crossers. Now, hold on, Bevan, if you... But I'll admit it. And I'd a darn sight rather be on your side than to be fighting you with these two sidewinders behind my back with guns. If you shake hands with a man who admits he made a mistake, I'll accept your agreement. Put her there, Bevan. Bevan, I'm as big a man as you are. So am I. In fact, Bevan, I'm a bigger man than you are. I'm willing to shake hands with you and Miller as well as Farnsworth. Now you're talking like the Westerners we heard about before we left the East. Welcome to the West, man. And shakes all around. Bevan, we figured you ranches would come to an agreement, so we planned a party supper to celebrate. Everything's ready, Dad. Then open the door to the dining room. Hey, man, oh, man, look at that table. Smell that grub. Chicken and dumplings like my ma made back in Memphis. Mashed potatoes, turnip squash, great day with a spread. Oh, I see, mince pie. And cucumber pickles. And look at that strawberry shortcake. Just oozing juice. Uh, sorry we can't offer beefsteak, gents. I suppose that's what you're used to. Beef? If you want beef, I'll give you all you want. As for me, I've had beef three times a day for 20 years. But vegetables and chicken, ho! Shades of my boyhood, let me at it. Dad, where's Tonto? Oh, uh, he left a few minutes ago, Jim. Tonto, say, who is that Indian? What was he doing around here? He's the one who outlined the plan to make friends. He outlined the plan, but it was thought up by the Lone Ranger. Gaiety reigned in the Farnsworth home, but Tonto was far from gay. The Indian's heart was heavy as he rode alone through the moonlit night toward the place where his friend lay sorely wounded, too weak to lift a hand, too weak to speak above a whisper. Tonto's life would be an empty shell if the hand of death should claim 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. 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