The hearty hi-yo silver. The Lone Ranger. General Mills, makers of Cheerios. The ready-to-eat oat cereal that gives you go power. And Wheaties, the breakfast of champions. Present by special recording, The Lone Ranger. Cause champions are made, not born. Yes, sir. Get on your way. Get on your way. Get on your way with Wheaties. It's good to know that champions are made, not born. Gives us all a chance. For instance, let's go back to 1943 and listen to the story of champion Mickey Mantle of the New York Yankees. Mickey worked hard to learn the game. As he got on his way to fame, he practiced batting, learned to throw. And Mickey knew what champions know. Wheaties for breakfast, away you go. No wonder Mickey's got all that steam. Mantle and Wheaties, they're still a team. Why, Mickey Mantle grew up on Wheaties, been eating them since he was 12. So good for a guy. There's a whole kernel of wheat in every Wheaties flake. Come on, Mickey, belt that ball. He's on his way. On his way. He's on his way. On his way. Get on your way. With Wheaties. Cause champions are made, not born. Yes, sir. Get on your way. Get on your way. Get on your way with Wheaties. Breakfast of champions. With 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 fella. I'm Silver. Hooray. The Lone Ranger of the Bar C Ranch rode slowly along the south range and hummed to himself as he looked up at the bright stars twinkling through the darkness. He stopped humming and stared into the night when he heard approaching hoofbeats. Oh, boy. For a moment, he could see nothing. Then, coming over a nearby ridge, he saw a group of ghostly, shimmering horsemen heading his way. Holy catfish. I must be seeing things. Me, you bullets. I'm getting out of here. Get up. Get up, boy. The following morning, many longhorns were missing from the south range. A week later, in the same territory near the town of Weston, a stagecoach delayed by flooded streams moved along the trail in the darkness. Better take it easy, Ed. Kind of hard to see the trail in the dark. Yes, I know. Hadn't been for those consarned flooded streams, would have been in Weston before sundown. Easy there, steady. Moon will be coming up shortly, then it won't be so dark. Of course, we know this trail like a book. Hey, look ahead. Ghosts. Ghosts on horses. No. No, it can't be. I'll use my gun. I'm stopping right here. Oh, there. Oh, there. I'm getting away from here. Come on. I'm with you. Gradually, the word spread about the nocturnal ghostly riders, and the stories told in the cafe were greatly exaggerated. I'm telling you, men, I never saw anything like it. There they were, just floating in the air, sort of. They appeared out of nowhere, and came toward me lickety-split. And the funny part of it is, they were shooting real bullets. Well, away we saw them. We were late getting to Weston. We were down in the hollow about three miles west of town, and it was plenty dark. Suddenly, right before her eyes, five or six of those ghost riders appeared on the trail ahead of us. Oh, it's best not to travel at night. Nobody's safe from ghosts anyway. Now, hold on, men. No use talking like a lot of kids, afraid of the dark. If those are ghosts, why do they shoot real bullets? Why do they leave hoof prints? Why do they need cattle or cash or gold? Tell me that. Yes. Some of the hands of the bossy spread say they're the ghosts of a night. An outlaw gang come back to get even. That'd be why they'd drive away cattle or take cash or gold. Eh, what about the bullets and the hoof marks? Well, ghosts could do anything or make anything seem real, I reckon. I say those were real horses that left real hoof marks. Whoever your ghosts are, they're smart enough to cover their trail, too. Well, have it your way, Sheriff. But the less I see of them, the better. I'm not getting caught on the trail at night after this, no, sir. Later that day, a stranger who had been at the cafe in Weston rode into the foothills where he entered a natural cave in the wall of a canyon. Oh, hi, ho. Hi, Slick. Hi, Baldy. How are things in town? Hear any more about the ghost riders? Well, fingers all they talk about in town are the ghost riders. I hear about them everywhere I go. We have them all scared, Slick. Yeah, nearly all fingers. The sheriff isn't so easily fooled. At least up to now he isn't. Where are the other men? Well, you must have seen Jim. He's on guard at the past. Yeah, I saw him. The other two are back in the cave sleeping. Come on. I want to talk to all of you. All right. Hey, you two, get up. Boss is back. All right. All right, now listen, boys. Tonight the moon doesn't come up until midnight. I'll have Baldy ride to town and pass around word that he saw the ghost riders over on High Ridge last night. And what for? Because the sheriff and his deputies are bound to go to High Ridge tonight to watch. Oh, yeah. Then we'll ride quickly through the valley below, where we can be seen, but we'll be out of gun range. Yeah. And the sight of the ghost riders might convince him more than just hearing about him. Real slick. They'll come down and try to trail us, maybe. They can't trail us in pitch darkness, and we'll cover our tracks as usual. I figure that after tonight, he'll have fewer deputies riding with him. As Slick predicted, the night was dark. Baldy went to town that afternoon and talked of seeing the ghost riders on High Ridge the night before. The sheriff, who was at the cafe, listened intently, then stated he and his deputies would go to High Ridge that night in case the riders appeared again. It was well before midnight when he and his men reached High Ridge and slowly rode the ridge trail. All right, keep your eyes open, men. We catch sight of those riders. We'll open fire and get after them pronto. It's mighty dark, Sheriff. Sheriff, too dark for hard riding on this rotted trail. It'll be just as rough riding for them, men. Frankly, I think those crooks wear white sheets or something. You can't depend on witnesses. I found that out. What's more? Sheriff, look down in the valley. Jump and chimney. There they are. Hey, they really look like ghosts, Sheriff. Sort of a shimmery light makes their coats and hats stand out plain. Hey, listen. Those are real horses. Hear the hoofbeats? Yeah, they're out of gun range. We'll get down there to hurry. Oh, count me out, Sheriff. I'm going back to town pronto. You fools! How can we catch them if you men shaking your boots like everybody else? I'm not hunting any ghost riders at night. Let's go back to town. I don't go for this sort of thing. All right. We'll go back to town. Get up, man. Get up, get up, get up. On the opposite ridge, two other men saw the ghostly-looking riders in the valley. Tato and the Lone Ranger were camped in a grove on the slope. Tato suddenly called the Masked Man's attention to the riders. Kim Sabi, look. The ghost riders we've heard about. They hear the hoofbeats of their horses. Ah. Need not Sabi. Them shine and dark with white glow. We'll saddle Silver and Scout and try to follow them. Come on. A short time later, the Masked Man and Indian rode down the slope and followed in the direction the riders had gone, but soon lost the trail in the darkness and returned to camp. At dawn the following morning, the Lone Ranger and Tato once more rode the valley trail. They're marks of many horses, Kim Sabi. So far, they're very plain. I hope they continue to be that way. Uh-huh. From all we've heard, though, I expect the trail to be cleverly covered before long. A Masked Man and Indian rode to the end of the valley. There, the tracks turned up the slope to High Ridge. When they reached the ridge trail, the two men stopped. Well, this is what I expected, Talo. The horse is used by a plenty smart trick. Tracks mixed up with others now. And if them go to town, we lose trail there. Tato suspected the ghost riders' tracks, mingled with those of the sheriff's posse, went straight into town, where all of them were lost in the track-covered, dusty Main Street. The Lone Ranger and Tato stopped in a grove at the edge of Weston. Go, sir. Go, sir. Go, sir. Easy, sir. There we go. Easy, sir. Easy, sir. Tato, I'll wait here. You go into town and see what you... The horsemen are coming from town. Ah. It's sheriff and man. Them sure to see us when them pass on trail. Hurry. We'll mount and leave. The men are nervous enough to shoot us on sight. Easy, sir. There we go. Easy, sir. Go, sir. Come up to town. The Lone Ranger and Tato were able to stay just out of range of the flying bullets fired by the posse. They gradually outdistanced their pursuers as Silver and Scout bore them toward the foothills and then used various means to cover their trail after they were out of sight of the posse. Finally convinced that they had thrown the sheriff and his men off their tracks, the two men drew rain on a rocky bluff to arrest the horses. After a short period, the Lone Ranger spoke. Look, the riders came from the general direction of these foothills last night, Tato. That's right. We'll search these hills today for the hideout. If we're unsuccessful, I'll talk over a plan I have in mind. Now, D.C. fella. We'll continue our Lone Ranger adventure in just a moment. Sheriff Sam is a boy of ten. He busts right in the robber's den and gets his man because he knows he's got gold power from Cheerios. Yes, he's got gold power. There he goes. He's feeling his Cheerios. Cheerios. Cheerios. That's Cheerios, the cereal shaped like little letter O's. And those O's stand for oats. The good grain Cheerios is made from. Every delicious spoonful of Cheerios and milk is real muscle-building food. Each spoonful contains vitamins, minerals, and proteins your body needs. Yes, those good things in a Cheerios breakfast do good things for your body. Help you have healthy nerves, good red blood, strong bones and muscles. You can see that Cheerios is made to give you real gold power. So make sure you have a Cheerios breakfast every day. Then you'll hear people say, He's feeling his Cheerios. Now to continue. After the sheriff and his men lost the trail of the masked man and Indian, they gave up the chase and rode to the valley to follow the ghost rider's back trail. The tracks led them from the valley into the foothills and onto rocky shale-covered terrain. Well, just as I expected. No more tracks to follow, men. No telling where they went from here. Well, we'll take a look into some of the canyons hereabouts before we go back to town. Might happen to spot their camp. Yeah, if they didn't just vanish into thin air. Stop talking foolish. If they were going to vanish, why would they bother to ride this far into the foothills? Just to confuse us, I reckon. Yeah, you're plenty confused, all right. You're letting your imagination run away with you. Maybe. But you saw them last night. It just isn't natural for real men to glow in the dark like they do. It's no use talking to you. Let's get on with the search. Get up here. Come on. Get up. Get up. Early afternoon, the skies darkened threateningly and thunder echoed through the foothills as the Lone Ranger and Tonto rode through one of the many canyons. It gets plenty dark, Chimosabi. Soon we have bad storms. It's beginning to rain already. We'll find shelter. Uh-huh. There's an opening to a natural cave. These hills are honeycombed with caverns. We'll go in there. Come on, children. Come, scum. Come on, big fella. Easy, scum. The masked man and Indian stopped just inside the cave entrance to wait for the storm to pass. It gets darker outside, Chimosabi. This plenty bad storm. It will soon pass. The shadows gradually deepened in the canyon. Until soon it was almost as dark as night. It was then the Lone Ranger exclaimed, Tonto, look back in the cave. The walls have a strange glow that give off a shimmering light. Ah. I want to look closer. The masked man walked back a short distance, then examined the wall closely, rubbing his hand on it. Look, Tonto. This wall is damp. The moisture on my hand makes it glow in the dark. Notice where my sleeve rubbed against the wall. Ah. The sleeves shine in dark. It's a luminous substance, apparently caused by chemical reaction of the moisture seeping down the walls. Certain phosphorus-like salts in the rocky walls might bring it about. We see plenty strange color in pointed rocks that hang from roof, grow from floor. Those cone-like formations are known as stalagmites and stalactites. They're made by the dripping mineral waters that seep through from above. A luminous substance on my sleeve explains the so-called ghostwriters. What do you mean? Evidently, they have their hideout in a similar cavern and discovered that this substance will make their clothing glow in the dark. And they use that knowledge to good advantage. After storm pass, we hunt for other cave maybe? As I said before, these hills are honeycombed with caverns. We hope to catch that gang in a hurry. The best thing to do is to bring them out into the open. And how do you do that? I rub my handkerchief with the substance. And tonight, I'll suggest the sheriff show it to his men as proof the riders are real men. And we'll make plans. After the storm passed, the Lone Ranger and Tonto returned to their camp. When darkness set in, they went to town where the masked man identified himself to the sheriff and his deputy. And after showing the luminous handkerchief, suggested a plan for capturing the ghost riders. Early the following night, the sheriff discussed the plan with his men. The masked man proved to us the riders are real men. Using some luminous stuff they discovered in the mountain cave. Now, here's the plan. We've got word around that a special shipment of gold is leaving later tonight by stage so as to get to the morning train in Pecos. We're having a big posse divided into two groups. What then, Sheriff? The first group will go on ahead and hide on a slope at the far end of the valley. The second group will follow the stage at a distance. Who'll drive the stage? The regular driver will take it out of town. Then the masked man will take over. The Indian will take his white horse and go with us. Now, go out and get the big posse together. Right. Later that night, the stage left town as planned. Outside of town, the lone ranger took the reins and riding alone drove the stagecoach into the valley. Get up! Get up there! Get up! The darkness was intense, broken only by the dimly glowing lanterns on the stagecoach. When he had gone almost halfway through, the masked man saw the ghost riders coming from a grove of trees ahead. Ho there! Ho! Ho! Ho there! Quickly, he jumped from the driver's seat and climbed inside the coach. Here they come. The masked man crouched down in the coach and waited as the outlaws rode to the stage and stopped. Ho! Ho! Ho! Well, the driver's gone. Must have scared that daylight out of him. Baldy, get up there. Throw down the cash box. Right. There isn't any cash box up here. Maybe it's in the coach. Now, look. Easy, boy. Reach it. Don't move you. Hey, what the... Somebody's in. Do as I say. Baldy, who had remounted, realized instantly that Slick was in trouble. He quickly reached out and jabbed his spur against one of the lead horses. The stage jerked forward and the lone ranger was momentarily thrown off balance, dropping his gun. But reacting instinctively, the masked man hurled himself through the door at the luminous figure beside the coach. Drop that gun. Slick was taken by surprise and fell to the ground where he grappled with the masked man. The other crooks dismounted hurriedly and moved in to help. But because of the intense darkness, they were unable to see the masked man. Though Slick's luminous figure stood out clearly. Then... Hey, lighters are coming. We can't see them. They're coming from both sides. I'll finish you. Try and pick them. The sheriff's men moved in from either side with blazing guns while the lone ranger fought with Slick. The outlaws, with their luminous clothes, were easily seen. Get them all, men. Don't let anyone escape. Several of the men were wounded and within a short time, the outlaws, realizing their hopeless situation, surrendered. Are you up? Yeah, we dropped our gun. Get to your feet, you. I'll kill you for this. Not if I can help it. Get up. With heavy blows to each side of the jaw, the lone ranger knocked Slick to the ground, unconscious. After retrieving his gun from the coach, he returned and stood over Slick. Bring a lantern here, Hank. There it is. There's the leader of the gang, Sheriff. Ooh. Hold that lantern closer. You recognize him? Yes. Slick Wheeler. Wanted for murder in San Antonio. Used to lead a gang down that way. Well, mister, we got them all. Your plan worked fine. We could see them plain as day. You know, Sheriff, I'd like to have one of those coats that glow in the dark, sort of as a souvenir. You'd go around scaring yourself, Hank. Anyway, those will be held as evidence. After this, you'd better think twice before you start believing in ghosts. Thanks to the mask man, there'll be no more ghost riders around here. You all right, James, honey? Yes, Tonto. Where's Silver? Him back there with Scout. Good. We'll leave now. Adios, Sheriff, and don't let the ghosts disappear. Don't worry, mister. The bars at my jailhouse will hold any ghosts you want to bring me. Hope to see you and Tonto again soon. You will. Let's go, Tonto. Adios. Hank, maybe after Slick Wheeler is hanged, his ghost will come back to haunt you. No, no, Sheriff. I'll tell you one thing. Even ghosts would have sense enough to stay away from the Lone Ranger. The Lone Ranger, a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated, is produced by Trandall Campbell Muir Incorporated. The part of the Lone Ranger is played by Brace Beamer, your announcer, Fred Floyd. Listen to the Lone Ranger, brought to you by special recording...
