A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-oh silver, the Lone Ranger. The record of the Lone Ranger's thrilling fight against outlaws and crime will not be found in the written pages of American history. However, the exciting stories of the mysterious phantom figure of the plains, his great horse Silver, and his faithful Indian companion Tonto are as vivid today as they were in the pioneer days of the West. Adventure returns as silver-shod hoofs thunder down the trails of long ago. The Lone Ranger rides again. Come on, silver-shod hoofs! At the end of the Civil War, Bolivar Bates and Hackshaw Hawkins had driven westward with little to show for their careers as soldiers other than a saddlebag stuffed with worthless Confederate paper money. As our story begins, we see them mounted on a pair of sway-backed horses on the road leading to the capital of the territory. Their uniforms are ragged, their belts tightened to the last notches. I tell you, Hackshaw, it ain't right. It ain't just, that's what it ain't. What ain't what, Bolivar? Look at us. Just look at us. Here we are, two of the finest soldiers that ever followed General Bob Lee. And we ain't got no food, no cash, no prospects. All we got is stomachs a plumb full of emptiness they like to bust. Yeah, and a sack of Confederate paper money. It'd be useful to build a fire with if we had something to cook when the fire was built. Five thousand dollars worth of Jeff Davis paper money and it won't buy a mess of beans. Bolivar, can't you think of nothing we can do to get something to eat? I'm powerful hungry. You're hungry. So help me, Hackshaw, if I didn't get blisters riding bareback, I'd eat the saddle off General Sherman here. Hold on a second. Here comes a couple of fellas on white horses. They might lend us a hand. The one fella's masked. I ain't particular. Hi there, stranger. Hello, soldier. Stop a minute. Oh, oh, silver. Oh, white fella. Oh, there. Oh, General Sherman. Oh. General Sherman? Yes, my horse. He kicked me once when he was in the cavalry. So I upnamed him after that Yankee. He's seen better days. Mister, General Sherman was once one of the finest horses south of Potomac. Jeb Stewart himself never rode a finer one. So you rode with Jeb Stewart? Sure did. Why, stranger, I was Jeb's right-hand man. Yeah, and I was his left. Go on, Bolivar. You might just as well try it once more. Maybe the masked fella and the engine ain't as known as they look. What do you want to ask me? Well, you see, we got our saddlebag full of paper money that we figured we might trade you for silver. Paper money? It's right-handsome. Confederate money? Well, what if it is? It's still pretty-looking. You can't spend Confederate money now. We found that out, stranger. Chuck, you knew that, eh? Well, Bolivar, I reckon we're going hungry again tonight. I declare, if I don't see food mighty soon, I won't recollect what to do with it. Maybe we may camp here. Yes, Tonto, this place is fine. Wouldn't you men like to camp here with us? We've food enough to go around. Food? You mean vittles? The real thing? Yes. Mister, we'd be downright ossified without an out-gratitude. Tonto, Tonto, fix some pan. We'd be right glad to help you in any way we could, Injun, but I'm afear the sight of food would be so weakening we wouldn't be worth much as helpers. You men might be able to get jobs if you have a lot of courage. Courage? Stranger, if the Tabena doesn't move like us, the South would have won the war. It'll mean work. Work? Gosh, Hexo, you hear that? Well, Bolivar, we can swallow our pride for our stomach's sake. Name the job, stranger. We got nerve and courage aplenty. There's been trouble collecting taxes in Las Palmas County. That's so. The ranchers are not in sympathy with the federal government. Men who have been sent out to get the taxes haven't lived long. Oh, gosh, Bolivar, how bad do we need that job? Bad enough to take it. Wonder if we can get it. After we've eaten, I'll tell you how to reach the office of Mr. Bradley at Las Palmas. The Lone Ranger fed the two old veterans, then directed them to Clint Bradley. The masked man in town of Mountain and rode ahead. That evening, they went to Bradley's home and took cover in the concealing shadows outside, watching the two old men as they meet the tax commissioner. Yes? Your name Bradley? Yes. Well, shake the hand of Bolivar Bates. That's me. And Hacksaw Hawkins. That's him. Glad to know you. What can I do for you? Well, it ain't what you can do for us. It's what we hanker to do for you. We aim to collect the taxes. What's the matter? You want to leave this world? We need jobs. Las Palmas people don't like paying taxes to the government. Take a look at what's left of our clothes, Bradley. Maybe we can talk the same kind of language them folks talk. Confederates, eh? And proud of it. Say, you wouldn't want to change some shin plasters for cash, would you? No. Well, if you're really serious about collecting the taxes, you're hired. Come inside, and I'll give you the list of names and what each man owes. One ranger thought of a plan to aid Bolivar and Hacksaw in the collection of the taxes. The masked man had learned the route the two old soldiers would take, so he and Tonto rode ahead of them. There's the first stop they'll make, Tonto. About to be Lee's Ranch. Oh. We go there first. Yeah? Yes, and we'll have to make sure the old men aren't too far behind us. You take care of the horses. Oh, Silver. Oh, Whitefeller. Take the horses around to the rear of the house. I'll meet you there. Tonto. Tonto do. Bolivar and Hacksaw should be along soon. Then, near. Then be here maybe two, three minutes. Very well. I'll meet you later, then. Come, Silver. Whitefeller. Open the door, Lee. I want to talk to you. Well? Oh, what the? No cupboard. Don't move. What's this? Hold on. What do you think? Oh, mercy. Barnaby, what's the masked man want? Stay right where you are. Bring out your gold and silver. Oh, Robin. Hurry. You mean... Money. You have money here. You've refused to pay your taxes, so you must have money. I'll relieve you of it. Now, hold on. Let's talk the door, right? I have no time for talking. Bring out the cash. I'd better get it, Barnaby. There ain't no sense in trying to talk him out of Robin. Yeah, yeah. You better get it. Hold on, General Sherman. Someone coming here. Maybe. Maybe they'll save us. Listen to me, Lee. I'll be at the rear of the house. I'll keep you covered while those men are here. Betray me, and you can guess what will happen. Oh, my sakes, a lie. Come on, Hacksaw. Here's the first stop, and the door's wide open. I'm right with you, Barnaby. Get rid of those men as soon as you can. Remember my warning. Barnaby, they're soldiers. Southern ones. Yeah, I see they are. We aim to walk right in, being as the door is open. If your name is Lee, we hanker to make some talk. Oh, I'm busy today. Yeah, and so are we busy. That's why we don't hanker to spend much time here. Lee, you owe the government. It's some tax money. Oh, and here's papers signed by Mr. Bradley, which gives us the right to collect that same. That's the amount you owe. And here's my old persuader to see that you pay up. You two are tax collectors? Southerners? Yes, so, Lee. And we fit as hard as any ten men again, the Yankees. Now, if we can summon the collecting of the taxes, by Thunder, you can stand the paying of them. Yeah. Sure, sure. I'll pay them. Here's the cash right here. Yeah, we'll pay the taxes, and doggone glad to do it. Well, fry me for a side of bacon. Take the cash. Take it all. Pay up my taxes for the next few years in advance. Now, don't you try no skin game. Aye, take the cash and welcome. Just give me a receipt for it. I'll mark my X right here, showing I got the cash. Now, you fill in the amount yourself. My eyes ain't good. Hexaw, pick up that cash. Sure enough. There. Now, I'm paid four years ahead. Good luck to you, gents, and thanks for coming for that cash. I still don't savvy, but I sure can see the cash. I got the cash, Bolliver. Let's get going before Mr. Lee changes his mind. Come on. Must be he's heard of us. And my downright determined look showed him and was no use aggifying. Well, there ain't nothing to steal. Come on out, you stick-up man. Reckon that's the time I fooled you. Instead of you getting my cash, I paid up my taxes. Where is he, Barnaby? He went back here. I thought he'd be shooting me most any second, seeing what I was about to do. Hey, you. Where are you? There he goes. Look at him traveling. An engine with him. Silver. He called that horse silver, Martha. Great guns. Maybe I wasn't so smart after all. The masked man carried on with his plans. He raced away from Lee's ranch, only to join Tonto and ride to the next place where Bolliver and Hacksaw would call. There they again pulled as robbers. Don't make a move. Bring out your savings. I'll take the money you've been refusing to pay out in taxes for the last year. Yeah, but stranger... Bring it out. Someone coming here. Get rid of them as soon as you can. I'll be in the kitchen. Sure, I'll pay my taxes. There's the cash right there. Don't go to Bolliver. There's something wrong about this, but I'll be your six-legged calf if I can settle what it is. There's my tax money. Take it and welcome to it. Thanks for coming. Hacksaw. I've never seen the like of it. Wherever Bolliver and Hacksaw called to collect the overdue taxes, they found the ranchers surprisingly willing to pay. Men who had loudly claimed they'd never give the government its money turned over their cash to the two old soldiers without a word of protest. Bolliver and Hacksaw carried on for several days. We join them as they make camp for the night. Nine-fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. Nine hundred and eighty dollars. Now, Dad, right, it ain't that something magnanimous? Sure something. Why, shucks, Bolliver. Folks are downright scared out in their wits of us. Must be the steely look I get in my eye. That ain't it, Hacksaw. Well, it's the ring of determination in my voice that gets them. I never seen folks pay up like they've been doing. We better get this cash back to Mr. Bradley before it gets too heavy for General Sherman to tote. Bolliver, I've been having notions about that cash. What do you mean, Hacksaw? Wishing it was ours. Shucks, we ain't cut out to be outlaws. I know that, Bolliver, but all the same... Besides that, our horses ain't built for fast travel. Wonder if we'd have to be outlaws. We got paper money, ain't we? Eh? What's the matter with hiding the silver Summers and taking the Confederate shin plasters to Mr. Bradley? Hmm. I wonder if it'd work. Tell him that's all the Las Palmas County folks had, so we had to take it. Hacksaw, maybe you got a notion that it'd work. We had to take Confederate paper, didn't we? Sure we did. Why should we get stuck with it when we can pass it on and keep the silver for ourselves? By thunder, Hacksaw, we could do it. And we will. Bradley can't catch us because he won't never know. And none of the folks around here will be speaking to him. They wouldn't have reason to. They're too far away from his office. Besides that, they don't have no use for him because he's a Yankee. Hacksaw, we've been honest men all our lives, but right here and now is where we change. We get dishonest and do it so slick we won't never get catched. The curtain falls on the first act of our thrilling Lone Ranger drama. Before the next exciting scenes, please permit us to pause for just a few moments. And now to continue our story. Bolivar and Hacksaw, two Civil War veterans, had collected nearly $1,000 in silver. They were tempted to keep the cash for themselves and turn over an equal amount in worthless Confederate money to the authorities. We see them now before the desk of Clint Bradley, federal official in charge of the collection of taxes. This is Confederate money. Yep, that's what it is, Mr. Bradley. But the folks we got it from was Confederate folks. Worthless. Now, ain't that a doggone shame? I sort of thought you'd be having a kind word for a couple of old glutes that done the best they knowed how in fulfilling new orders. I suppose it's not your fault. Boss, we just risk our lives into firing the folks and making them pay up. I tell you, it won't easy. Maybe we'll raise some hard cash in the next calls we go out to make. I hope so. We figured we'd better tote in what we had. Yes, of course. Well, we'll get moving again. Old Jeb Stewart will tell you that Bolivar Bates and Hacksaw ain't men that give up. We are a couple of the most determined men that you... Come back when you've made some ore collection. Yes, sir. Sure as thunder we will. Come on, Bolivar. Come on, Hacksaw, coming. Good day to you, Mr. Bradley. Goodbye and good luck. Paper money, Confederate money. This stuff won't pay the bills to run the government. Get up, Lord General, Herbert. Bradley. Eh? Oh, hello, my friend. Those two old men who just left here... I'm afraid your plan was a failure because the settlers didn't have silver money. They did have. But this here is the tax money those men just brought in. I know it. Bradley, we put temptation in the way of two poor old men. What do you mean? They collected silver, but they hid it. What? It's hidden under a rock. They replaced it with their own worthless paper money. Why, those double-crossing old thieves? They aren't thieves at heart, Bradley. They stole. They took the money. It's a mistake, but it isn't too late to correct it. How? Show them that they'll have nothing to gain by what they did and make use of them in collecting the rest of the lost Palmer's copy taxes. And let them steal more money? No, Bradley. You know that your regular collectors failed in every case. Yes. While Bolivar and Hacksaw made a collection in almost every place they went to. With your help. Nevertheless, where ranchers had the cash, they paid their taxes. Agreed. But what is your plan? Let Bolivar and Hacksaw carry on. Then? Then let them come in here with the rest of the taxes they've collected. And then what? Teach them a lesson they'll never forget. A lesson that will make them useful citizens in a country that needs good men. I don't have much hope for that, but I will listen to your plan. When the Lone Ranger left Bradley, he continued his earlier plan. He rode ahead of Bolivar and Hacksaw, stopping wherever ranchers owed tax money. Come on, Silver! Get along there, General Sherman. I, darn Hacksaw, if I weren't a modest man, I'd be out not stuck up by the way we managed to get them taxes without so much as a complaint. What gets me is the way folks sometimes thank us for the taking of the cash. Get up there. Get along there. I never seen the like of it. That masked man was no outlaw at all, Ma. He was here for no other reason than to make us pay the taxes. After several busy days, Bolivar and Hacksaw had completed their collections. They returned to their camp, hid the gold and silver that had been paid them for taxes, and substituted worthless Confederate money once more. Then they mounted and rode again to Clint Bradley's office. There's Mr. Bradley at the door. Thank goodness you gents are back safe. Come on in. We figured on it. What's the matter, Mr. Bradley? I've been worried about you. You didn't meet any killers, did you? Gosh, no. Well, come in. Come inside. It's a good thing we've got some extra rooms here. You men are just two jumps ahead of a lot of trouble. Golly, now what? You have the money? We got the saddlebags here. They got the paper money in them. Still paper money? Uh-huh. Well, it isn't the money I'm worried about. I'd hate to be the cause of the death of two men like you. The what? Death! Yes. Word has come here. There's a chance that the Lost Palmer's people are angry at the way you made them pay the taxes. They're likely to come here looking for you. Oh, gosh. Well, uh, we'll just turn this cash over and hightail it away from here. There's a list of the names and the money each is paid. Yes. Too bad that it's all Confederate money. I'd hope we could pay you your commissions in silver. Well, being as you got that paper, reckon we'll have to be satisfied with some of the same for our pay. Too bad. A man can buy this money for about ten cents on the dollar. We ain't meant to complain, though. Now, if you leave us go... Now, I couldn't think of letting you risk your lives. You'll have to wait until tomorrow before you leave. Until tomorrow? Yes. If you started out now, you might meet the ranchers heading this way. Tomorrow, I'll send a guard with you. Uh, but, Mr. Bradley, we could head north. Old General Sherman is the headnest horse he ever seen when he heads north. No. The responsibility for your lives rests with me. Now, you stay here for tonight. I have a room where to be quite safe. Tomorrow, we'll see about getting you away from here. But, Dad, right at Mr. Bradley... You men are my responsibility. No, we don't want to be... I can't search my duty. I know, but... I just come right in here and I'll show you where you can sleep and I'll see that your meals are brought to you. Hang it, Hacksaw. We ain't no choice. Look here, Bradley. I'll protect you if I have to use a gun to put you in your bedroom. Hey, this year looks like a jail to me. Look at them bars on the window. They won't get at you here. And we won't get at nothing while we're in here, not even sunlight. Cheer up. It's only for one night. If you'd committed a crime, you'd spend years here. Then you'd have something to complain about. You ain't going to lock us in, are you? Of course. How else could I be sure you'd be safe? You're treating us just like prisoners. Cheer up. It won't be for long. Well, by thunderation, if this ain't a fine kettle of fish we got into. Bolivar, I don't like what he said about being crooked and staying here for years. How thundered to think I felt about it? If them ranchers get here and tell him they paid in silver instead of paper money, we will stay here. We'll never see the light of day again. That ain't the worst of it. Did you hear what he said about being able to buy the shin plasters for a dime a dollar's worth? He knows, Bolivar. There ain't no two ways about it. Mr. Bradley knows as sure as a bone. And then, even if he don't know, look at what happened. Huh? Just suppose he does leave us go tomorrow with a guard to see us to the north. Dad Bradley won't have no chance to get that silver. Doggone, I never thought of that. Hacksaw, we are just a couple of plain and fancy doggone fools that did you. We ain't cut out for crime, Bolivar. Mr. Bradley's opening the door to the office inside. Maybe he'll have grub for us. Crack of your bread and water would go all right with me. Yeah, he is. Morning, gents. Did you sleep good? When we slept, but we slept darn little. I never slept a wink. These jails are awful. Well, step out. Your horses are ready and you can head north. You mean that? Sure. I guess that was just a scare about the ranchers. Ain't been no more word from them. And we're free to travel? Of course. Is there any reason why you shouldn't be free? Jumpin' juniper. Look at all the silver piled along that desk. Oh, that. Yes, I'm countin' it. Why, there's a sizable sum there. Must be close to a couple of thousand dollars. Where'd it come from? Just an affair of the government, that's all. Oh, there's that redskin. Hello there, Tarno. Oh. He brought some of that silver in. Oh, where'd he get it? Now, gents, don't get curious about the business of the government. You got your commission on the tax collection. In paper money? That's what you brought me. But, Mr. Bradley, we, that is, it's no good for spending. I know it. But you and those who gave you the tax money in paper expect the county bills to be paid with it. Well, good luck to you, gents. Reckon we be needin' it. Come on, Hacksaw. Comin', Bolliver. Goodbye. Bye. Dad, Ratadol, Hacksaw, we still ain't at a man's meal. Let's get for a hidein' place as fast as them horses can take us. Yeah, let's travel fast. Get along now, General Shumman. Hold there. There's a hidein' place. Now, get to the ground and dig up under that rock as fast as you can. Come on, Hacksaw. Give me a hand. Hello there. How's the masked man? Aye, stranger. How did you make out with the tax collections? Well, we made out, uh... But we got paper money. Confederate money that ain't no good. Yeah, so that's what we was paid our commission with. And Dad, Ratadol, well, mister, we still ain't got no cash to spend. Are you sure you were paid in Confederate money? Well, we, uh... I once heard of tax collectors who thought they'd get put one over on the government. Huh? They hid the silver they collected and turned in Confederate money. They... they did? Yes, but they were sorry for it. There are several kinds of men in the world. What do you mean by that? Sometimes men turn crooked without being crooks at heart. Those men can be made to see their mistake and changed into worthwhile citizens. The West needs that kind of men. Yeah, I reckon so. Other men are naturally bad. They don't take advantage of the second chance that's given them to make good. They're the kind who spend all their lives in jail or end up at the end of a rope. But what's all this to do with us, mister? You men were tax collectors. I hope you were good ones because I got you that job. If you fell down on it, it would betray the trust I put in you. Oh. Oh. By the way, did you see anything of my Indian friend? Yeah, we seen him this morning in Mr. Bradley's office. Farewell. I'll join him there. Come on, Silver. Hacksaw, what'd you make of what he said? I don't know what to make of it, Bolivar, but I was darn uneasy when he was saying it. Doggone it. I wish we hadn't turned crooked. Well, we did. And we'd better get that silver cash and head north. Come and help me load it. Yeah, now. Hacksaw, what's the matter? It's gone. What? Our silver ain't here. Someone's took it. I bet that masked man got it. That's why he was here. He's seen us hiding it, I bet. Bolivar, I'm dull-witted and slow-thinking, but by darn it's finally got through my head that the silver we seen on Bradley's desk was that same silver that we had hid here. And we got swindled out of our commission. Hacksaw, it's as plain as the nose on your face. They know we tried to swindle them, and they wanted us to know it. Yeah, and we lost our commissions for doing that same. You know, we had it coming. We ain't cut out for crooks. Now all we can do is chaw that stale grub that's in our saddlebags, if that's still there, and let it be a darn good lesson. Why, I... Bolivar, don't tell me we ain't even stale bread left. What's that look on your face for? Why, there's something in the saddlebag. What is it? Silver cash. Money. Hard cash. Wait, here's something else. A bullet. Forty-five. Hacksaw, this your bullet is of silver. Get it? You get it? Why, it's sort of confusing. Remember what the masked man said? He got the silver, he turned it in, and put our commission into the saddlebag in cash. Yes, so. And the silver bullet to let us know who he was. Silver bullet. Horse named silver. The Lone Ranger's given us a chance to go straight, Hacksaw. I don't hanker to see no jail again. We are going straight. The story you have just heard is a copyrighted feature of the Lone Ranger Incorporated. The Lone Ranger Incorporated.
