In a moment you'll hear James Stewart as the sick shooter, just one of the many fine programs brought to you Sundays on NBC. Later this evening listen to the NBC Star Playhouse with Leitris Joy and Jeffrey Lin. Here meet the press, America's number one news making program. And be sure to keep tuned for the dramatic story of communism in America on Last Man Out, a wonderful lineup of great programs all of them heard only on NBC. James Stewart as the sick shooter. The man in the saddle is angular and long legged. His skin is sundyed brown. The gun in his holster is gray steel and rainbow mother of pearl. Its handle unmarked. People call them both the sick shooter. The NBC radio network presents James Stewart as the sick shooter, a transcribed series of radio dramas based on the life of Brit Ponzi. The Texas planesman who wandered through the western territories, leaving behind a trail of still remembered legends. It had snowed during the night, thick wet snow that bowed the pine trees and banked over the pink boulders turning them white. I found myself lying under a good heavy six inches of it when I woke up. Oh, cheeky place. Old scar, he looked like a white whiskered burl over there standing beside what was left of the campfire trying to shake himself dry. No, all right, all right, take it easy boy. Just wait till I get the fire started again. The wood I'd gathered up the night before was pretty wet so I got a hand axe out of a pack and headed over toward a little hill about a quarter of a mile away. Since the wind had been from the north, I figured some of the brush on the far side might still be drying up for burning. Yeah, it wasn't very easy climbing. A couple of times I went in and went over my knees. But the snow was already beginning to melt fast even though the sun hadn't splashed into the sky yet. And that meant we'd be able to start off in an hour or so. By then the stuff would be thinned down to mostly mud and water. I hit the crest of the hill and looked around. The south side sliced away at a good sharp angle and the ground was fairly dry. I spotted a couple of dead oak saplings lying on the ground about ten feet below me. Seemed likely they'd catch fire without too much trouble. I was kind of surprised to find oaks growing at this altitude. And so I thought, huh, huh, there's something bothering Scar. Probably a jackrabbit or squirrel or something. He sure was making a lot of racket. Wasn't like him to get upset and listen. Oh, well that wasn't a jackrabbit. That was a whole lot more than that. I dropped my axe and I climbed back to the top of the hill as fast as I could climb. The sun was inching over the rim of spooner range and at first the reflection off the snow blind had made it. When I got my eyes focused I saw the fellow standing beside Scar trying to cinch the saddle onto his back. Hey, hey you! Hey, let that horse alone! He looked up and for a minute he just stood there as though he didn't know exactly what to do next. Then he jerked the leather tight and he put his foot in the stirrup. Scar wasn't being very helpful but it didn't keep the fellow from mounting up. I knew I couldn't make it through the snow before they rode off and I sure didn't like the idea of chancing a shot, not with Scar rearing the way he was. But I didn't have much choice. My first shot was wide, oh, maybe five, six feet and Scar was taking the spur and sort of starting to move in spite of himself. Another minute or two they'd be out of range. Now that was a little close but not close enough. That must have caught the fellow high on the leg. He twisted around and tried to get a hold of the pole but his fingers slipped off and I saw him slide into the snow. I couldn't see whether he had a gun or not but I found out sooner or not. I died behind a clump of pine. There was a clearing between us and he was using a boulder for cover. Little spray of snow told me I'd chipped the rock right in front of him. I waited for him to answer my fire but there wasn't a sound from that side. Maybe he was just waiting too, hoping I'd get anxious and come out in the open. Well, I wasn't going to be that obliging. He still didn't answer. I reloaded my gun and edged over to the right. If I could just circle without him seeing me, maybe I could come up behind him. About 20 minutes later I managed to skirt around the clearing. He was up front of me now, just a couple of boulders away. I got up on my haunches and I charged. And then I saw why I'd been so quiet. He was sprawled out face down on the snow, staining it red. Wasn't just his leg that was doing the bleeding either. There was a bullet hole in the small of his back and a piece of cloth fastened over it had come loose. His gun was lying beside him within easy reach. I picked it up. There was still one bullet that hadn't been fired. He started coming too and I eased him over on his side and his eyes kind of half opened. It was just like his lids were too heavy for him to rise all the way. I stole a lot of things in my time, but I ain't never been a horse thief before. All right, you better take it easy. What's the difference? I'm not going to pull out of this any. I guess I'm lucky. I'm dying, here's a whole lot better than being caught. I always said they'd never hang me. All their rewards, wanted posters, just wasted time. I told them they'd never hang Ace Tressler. Tressler? You heard of me, ain't you? Yeah. Yeah, I've heard of you. Everybody's heard of Ace Tressler. One way or another. Too bad, it was your shot that did it, mister. You could collect a mighty fancy reward. About $3,000, it must total up to, and that's not counting yesterday. The stage depot over the sunset, fell in charge. He didn't like the idea of being held up. That's how I got this bullet in my back. No? But I took care of him. He won't be shooting nobody else. You killed Sam Fletcher? I don't know his name, mister. You don't expect a fella to know the names of all the men he shoots, do you? How'd you get out here without a horse? It was a good 20 miles from sunset. I had my pony tipped just a couple of hours ago. All that snow coming down, he sort of missed his foot. Heard himself bad. I'd say, I sure hated having put him out of his misery. He was a fine horse. Best I have owned. It's a rotten shame, men having to kill a horse like that. Yeah, yeah. That's the only reason I tried to take you away. I had to have some kind of mouth. There's pussy on the trail. I ain't never stole a horse before, mister. I ain't no horse, do you? Well, you think you can hang on if I heist you onto the saddle? What for? Well, you need a doctor. Scar can carry us both. Only doctors and sunset. That's right. I'd never make it that far. Can't see I'd never make it that far. Well, you can try. No, no, I'm not going back there. We might run into a pussy along that way. Yeah, we might. He'd string me up. Even though there was a string in here. I swore that nobody'd hang me. I swore. All right, turn over on your face here. Put that bandage back. Listen, mister, you can't let him hang me. I'll be dead anyway. Just a few hours. You can stay here until... And then you can take me back. You can say you've done it. Collect a reward for yourself. Three thousand dollars, mister. All right, come on, turn over. As long as I'm... And anyhow, let me die out here. What do you want to give me? Just lynch me. Nobody's gonna lynch you, Trasher. Give me your word. Yeah, yeah. You won't let me down, mister. I swore. I swore that I didn't ever hang a Strasler. You won't. He passed out again. But he was still alive, still hanging on by a thread. I managed to get a couple of makeshift bandages fastened on to him. The bleeding seemed to have let up a little. His leg wasn't hurt too bad. The bullet just sort of went through the flesh. It didn't look like it had broken anything. But the wound in his back was more serious. As far as I could tell, the bullet had just gone all the way into his chest. I picked him up, laid him across Scar's back. Then I looped a rope around his body and tried to fix it so that he wouldn't slide around too much. It wasn't going to be a very comfortable ride, but as long as he was unconscious, I wouldn't know it. All right, let's go, boy. Come on, come on. We weren't able to make very good time with Scar carrying both of us through all that slush. It was almost two hours later before we came to the main Sunset Trail. And just as we turned on, I spotted the posse. At least what I figured was the posse. There were five men loping along toward us from the east. Doc Prince headed the procession and he was the local dentist. And I recognized Ty Barstow and Frosty Ender right behind them. Two boys bringing up the rear. I didn't look familiar. They'd probably moved into Sunset since the last time I was there. Oh boy, oh boy. Well, howdy, Brit. Hello, Doc. Well, boys, what'd I tell you? I said he was Brit Ponson. Yeah, that's right. Easier. I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Ponson. I'm Cliff Slauson. And this year's Hard North. How are ya? Hi. Yes, sir. I recognize you the minute you come into sight. I said, there's the six shooter, I said. And I guess there's nothing to matter with my eyes. It appears like you're carrying quite a load, Brit. What happened? It's Art Tressler. Huh? Tressler? No. He's not here. Oh, it's all gone. Let's see here. Yes, it's him, all right. At least it sure looks like them pictures on the posters. Well, if that don't take their cake, this neighborhood's getting to be a real outlaw's haven, I reckon. Well, maybe they'll change their mind about hanging around after they find out what happened today. Yeah. Yeah, we've done a pretty good job of taking in the welcome mat. Pretty good. If you ask me, we set a record with Ponson to help, of course. Boy, you boys didn't need any help from me. You would have found Tressler yourself for very long. What are you talking about, Brit? We didn't have the faintest idea he was in these parts. Sure, we were already on our way back to town. You mean, you mean you weren't looking for him? Of course not. Well, what are you doing out here then? I thought you were a posse. We are a posse. But we were hunting George Revit. Rabbit. Yeah, you remember him, don't you? Rob Phil Jeffers, general store, a couple of years back. Almost killed old man Jeffers. Yeah, yeah, I remember. Well, sir, he broke out of jail a week ago. He went over to Polk City, and what do you think he did? He headed straight for Sunset, and he tried to pull another robbery. Yeah, only this time he did kill Sam Fletcher while he was at it. Now, now, just hold on a minute here, boys. Now, you're trying to tell me that you're looking for George Revit, and that you think he's responsible for the robbery at the stage depot last night. Think? We know it, Brit. Of course we do. But we ain't looking for him anymore. We found him. What? Yeah, just a couple of hours ago, hiding in a cabin over by Walnut Creek. That's right, and he won't be pulling no more holdups, neither. We saw to that. Now, now, now, boys, now, you better let me explain this to Brit. He might think we was kind of hasty this morning. It isn't as if we didn't give Revit a trial. A trial? Well, there was no doubt about his being guilty, Brit. And see, in this house there's no judging, Sunset, and we'd have to wait till next spring for a formal hanging where we sort of speeded things up a mite. You... you didn't string him up yourself. Well, not very high up, just a couple of feet off the ground. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, boys, now, boys, wait just a minute now. Now, now, Brit, there's no point in you looking so all fired serious. There's nothing anybody can do about it now. Well, that's true enough, Doc. Yeah, there's nothing anybody can do. We'll return to James Stewart as the sick shooter in just a moment. Now hear this. Within the next 20 seconds, a fire will break out somewhere in the United States. Lives may be lost, property damaged, homes or buildings destroyed. There are 4,600 fires in America every day of the year. They kill 11,000 persons and disfigure or severely burn thousands more. The unfortunate part of this picture is that most of these fires could be avoided. For example, 90% of all fires that start in the home can be traced to human carelessness. By obeying a few simple rules of fire prevention from now on, you and I can protect our homes and our families from this devastating menace. Rule one is don't smoke in bed or discard lighted cigarettes carelessly. Rule two, go through your house and clean out old newspapers, magazines, and other inflammable debris. Rule three, promptly repair defective wiring as soon as you notice it. Fire won't wait until tomorrow. Rule four, use only those cleaning fluids which will not burn. And last but not least, be careful with matches. Keep them out of the reach of small children. Remember it doesn't pay to gamble with fire. The odds are against you every time. Now, act two of The Sick Shooter, starring James Stewart as Britt Ponzit. Well, I just didn't know what to say. Ace Tressler hadn't been lying when he told me about robbing the depot and shooting Sam Fletcher. A man doesn't confess to something like that when he thinks he's ready to cash in, you know. And as for George Rabbit, oh, he caused folks trouble ever since he was a kid. He'd been mixed up in all sorts of gunfights, too, fights that usually ended up somebody else dying. But he hadn't killed Sam Fletcher. That's one thing he hadn't done. Well, looks like Tressler's still with us. Yeah. Well, I'd better get moving. Well, you want us to take him into town for you, Britt? That's a good idea. No, no, thanks. You see, I gave him my word that he was going to a medical doctor. I don't get you. You see, he was afraid he might be lynched. Well, we ain't got no grudge against Tressler, Britt. Oh, I guess he's as mean as they come, but he ain't never given us no bother in sunset. Is that so? I told you. We didn't even know he was in these parts. I guess you should have known a dog. He's the man who shot Sam Fletcher. Oh, Britt, what's that? Oh, I know what you're up to, Britt. You're just joshing ass. You're trying to make us feel like we've done something wrong and take care of George Ribbett. Well, all I'm saying is that Tressler told me he held up the stage depot last night and he killed the fellow in charge. You ain't serious. I'm about as serious as I can be. Oh, but Britt, that don't make sense. Why, it had to be Revit. What made you so sure? Well, we knew he broke jail and somebody said they thought they'd seen him in town yesterday. Now, let me see who... Oh, it was Johnny Seelts, I think. Yeah, yeah. We picked up his trail not far from the depot. Well, he led right to that cabin on Walnut Creek where we find him. He admit the robbery on the shooting? Why, you don't expect a man to admit a thing like that when he knows there's a rope waiting for him, of course. Yeah. Well, I'll see you. Oh, no, no, no. Wait. Now, hold on now, Britt. Why, you just got to be wrong. You think I'm lying, Doc? No, no, no, no, no. Of course not, Britt. But everything pointed to Revit. Well, maybe Tresler was just making that up, what he told you. Well, how did he find out about the robbery then? Well, I... Now, Britt, you know we wouldn't have done anything if we weren't certain in our own minds that we were right. Why, you know that. It's possible we made a mistake. Well, I'm not saying that we did, but it is possible. No. Well, even if we did, Revit deserved hanging. He deserved it for a long time. Yeah. Yes, that's what I'm getting at. We didn't do any harm, Britt, and not really. You didn't, huh? Oh, of course not. But if you were to tell folks about this, well, they might not see it our way. They might figure that we took too much on ourselves. So you won't say anything, will you? Well, all I'm doing is taking Tresler into town. Whatever he says after he gets there, that's up to him. Well, I know, but I don't know... You don't need to worry about Tresler. He ain't gonna say nothing. Huh? Well, take a look. Yeah, he was dying. Wasn't any doubt about that. I cut the rope that was holding Montescar's back and carried him over to a dry space just off the trail. And just before I could put him down, he gave a little shudder, and I felt the life ease out of his body. Well, he'd been right about one thing. Nobody would ever hang East Tresler. Yes, that saves your trip into Sunset, eh, Britt? Well, I was heading for there anyway, Frosty. Oh? As long as I've come this far, I might as well go the rest of the way. Well, I don't... Now, look here, Britt. Ace is dead. Yeah? Well, then don't you see that there's nobody to say whether he was the one who killed Sam Fletcher or not? Nobody but Britt. That's right. Now, now, suppose we did go off half-cocked. Suppose we were kind of hasty with Revit. Well, we're sorry about it, but there's nothing we can do for him now. It seems you told me that before. Well, it's the truth, ain't it? Sure. Well, then what would you gain by getting us into hot water? Letting people know that we kind of overstepped the mark? Is that what you call it, overstepping the mark? Well, it'd be different if Revit was innocent. Well, somehow I got the idea that he was. Oh, yes, of this robbery, maybe, but, well, he is... I had a brother, Pontet. He'd be alive today if it wasn't for George Revit. Is that why you hung him, to get even for your brother? No, no, no, no, no, of course not. We were just doing our duty as citizens. We thought he shot Sam Fletcher. Well, why are we standing here arguing? If Pontet wants to try and make trouble, well, he ain't got no proof. It's his word against ours. That's right. Cliff's right. We can even say that Revit confessed. Why, everybody at Sunset will believe us. Well then, I don't see what you're so worried about. Why, we ain't worried, Brit. Not really, of course we're not. I know you pretty well. We've been friends a long time. Why, you're not going to go out of your way to stir up a hornet's nest? No, I'm sure of that. Well, I ain't so sure. Just a minute, Pontet. You're not leaving here yet. No, Frost. And boys, it's about time we start using our heads. If he goes into town and spreads this story around, they'll all believe it. Whatever Brit Pontet says, that's gospel. But he ain't going to say anything. That's right, he ain't. Because he ain't riding into Sunset. He's turning around heading east. Is that so? I know you're a fast man on the draw, but there's five of us. And you're not that fast. No, I reckon I'm not. Now, we want to get into the mix-up with Brit Frost. What do you want? People to start saying we murdered George Revit? Murdered? Well, that ain't what we done at all. His family might not agree with you, Cliff, if they found out the truth about that holdup last night. And he's got a brother, too. Well, maybe there is something in what Frosty says. But we can't stop Brit. Now, if he takes it upon himself... We stopped Revit, didn't we? But, Frosty... Put that gun away. Sure, I'll put it away. After I'm sure that Pontet's riding east. And I'm warning you, Brit, you ever breathe a word about what Pressler told you? I don't like being ordered around, Frosty. Then just keep away from Sunset. Now move. I said... Well, I held my ground. I knew Frosty under pretty well. I knew he wouldn't shoot. His business with Revit had pushed him into deep water, but not that deep. I watched his jaw muscles tighten up and I saw a little bead of sweat begin together between his eyes and for a minute nobody said anything. And then Ty Barstow shoved forward. I told you to put it away, Frosty. Wasn't what we already done today bad enough? You want to kill somebody else? We done nothing wrong. Get that through your skull, Ty. Revit deserved to hang and we hung him. What about Brit? Suppose he deserves being shot? No, no, not unless he asks for it. That gun you're holding just proves how wrong we were this morning. We'd been right, you wouldn't need it. Shut up. If we'd been right, we wouldn't be standing here feeling ashamed. Even you feel ashamed. That's why you don't want nobody to hear about it. That's why you're threatening Brit here. And I'll make good on that threat too. No you won't. Because we're going into sunset and tell them what happened. We're going to take our medicine. You've gone loco. And it ain't just because Revit didn't kill Sam Fletcher, even if he had. Well, he still wouldn't have been right. Oh, I reckon we wouldn't have found out so quick, but we'd have found out sooner or later. You know what's the matter, if you tie your yellow, you've got a streak of yard wide down your back. You were just as anxious to string up Revit as the rest of us. Things didn't turn out the way you figured. Yeah, that's true enough. Hey yellow, that's what you ought to clear through. You've got the gun, Frosty. You can stop me if you want to. Doc, you coming along? Yeah. Lift, fire. Okay. Hey, you crazy fools, we didn't do nothing wrong. What's the matter with you? Hey, why can't you see that? Hey, hey. Frosty kept on yelling until they were almost out of sight. Then he turned and shook his head like he couldn't figure out what had happened. I picked up Trestler's body and I laid it across Scar's back. Frosty swung around and stared at me. If it hadn't been for you folks, we would have said we'd done fine. You wouldn't have known about Trestler. Why'd you have to meet up with him today? Why? Because it snowed last night and his pony stumbled and he needed another horse. That ain't no reason. No, maybe not, Frosty. Maybe not. You coming into town? Yeah. Let's go. Fifty thousand trained nurses are needed now. Today. Nurses to serve humanity in hospitals and private duty, in teaching and research, in the Veterans Administration and the Armed Forces. And although a nurse's training means a thorough professional education at far less expense than four years of university, it offers a curriculum which includes such fascinating studies as psychology, sociology, and chemistry. And upon graduation, the student becomes a registered nurse and in some schools obtains a Bachelor of Science degree as well. These then are the facts of a nursing education. The need has never been greater. The opportunities for a vital, useful career have never been finer. For further information, we suggest that you contact your nearest hospital. The Sixth Shooter is a transcribed NBC radio network production in association with Review Productions. It is based on a character created by Frank Burt and is written by him. Mr. Stewart may currently be seen in the Universal International Picture, The Glenn Miller Story. Others in the cast were Robert Griffin, Harry Bartel, Lamont Johnson, Howard McNear, and Forrest Lewis. Special music for this program was by Basil Adlam. The entire production is under the direction of Jack Johnstone. All characters and incidents were fictitious and any resemblance to actual characters or incidents is purely coincidental. Oh, by the way, you'll be interested in knowing that the Sixth Shooter has been chosen for broadcast to our men overseas through the facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Services. This is John Wall speaking. Tonight, listen to Sunday at Home on the NBC Radio Network.
