Lone Ranger Comics # 82 thru 99

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Pleose enter subscription to Lone Ranger Comics. In-
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BELL, COMICS ARE GOOD COMICS

WHOEVER STRUCK HIM \
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WHO HE IS! THERE'S NOTHING
THAT COULD HELP US

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SEVERAL BEARING MY .S/GJYA.T£/&£/
WHEN I WROTE My NAME WITHOUT LOOKING
AT THOSE DOCUMENTS, AND WHEN THE _-<
ADJUTANT COMPARED SIGNATURES HE
KNEW THEY WERE /B>£WTYCA£. AND
THAT MY STORY WAS TRUE) --- NO, VOU /."
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LEAD ATTACK AGAINST
HUNDRED FIFTY'TROOPERS
AT TIMBER RASS SOON
AFTER DAWN TOMORROW
RED FO* 0&&y VISION

WHY AS A MATTER OF FACT— -YES
CAPTAIN CAULDER IS BRINGING UP A
HUNDRED AND FIFTY NEW
THEY SHOULD CROSS TIMBER
SHORTLY AFTER DAWN
TOMORROW

SOMEHOW, RED FOX OBTAINED THE RIGHT
INFORMATION ABOUT THAT TROOP MOVEMENT!
HE'S OUT TO RAISE HIS STOCK AMONG HIS
TRIBESMEN BY ATTACKING THE TROOPS HIS u V!SION"
SAID WOULD 6E THERE' THEN THEY'LL BELIEVE
HEyS" FAVORED BY THE GREAT SPIRIT/ — 1VE jMUST_j
F^JZeVeMT HIS ATTACK!

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TO ASK YOU SOME QUESTIONS ) OR QUESTION RED
ABOUT THE VISION m=^ FOX'S VISION AND

IF ANYONE'S TO WARN NuGH' BUT RED FOX
THOSE TROOPS TONTO, ) POST PLENTY

BE US' m y GUARDS TO MAKE

SURE WE STZiY

\TSJUST WIDE VI I HERE'S WHERE IT CO/VtES UP! NOW

ENOUGH-- THESE \[ TO OPEN THIS END AND HOPE ITS

WASN'T 'TIME TO I 1/Z4& £A/0£/GAf AWAY FP?OM THE

BROADEN IT 1 M L^L, , TENT.'

Sheriff Ames looked at the contents of the
pockets of Cal Mason, who was up on a
charge of murder. Cal Mason was sitting
across the desk, pale and nervous.

"Sheriff," he pleaded again,, "you know
I would never hurt anyone. I was just walk-
ing back after asking Sam Briggs far a job."

"And Sam Briggs, owner of the Lazy-J
ranch, had refused io hire you?"

"Yes, but-but 1 wouldn't kill a man for
that, Sheriff. You've got to believe me."

"I've got to believe Art Cook, too," said
Ames coldly. "He was riding by and saw you
bending over the dead body of Briggs— with
a gun in your hand. How do you explain
that?"

"I— I— " Cal Mason swallowed hard, then
began again. "Well, when I first saw him
lying there shot, I was excited. Didn't know
what I was doing. Didn't know I even picked
the gun up, sort of shocked, and . . .
and . . ."

The prisoner's words faded into lame si-
lence, at the sheriff's skeptical frown.

Ames wished he could believe the little old
man. Cal Mason had always been just a harm-
less drifter. Worked from ranch to ranch,
picking up odd jobs. He had the peculiar
trait of a pack-rat, too, picking up any odd
bits of things, hoping to seil them for a few
pennies.

The contents of Mason's pockets proved
that. Some bits of old string, several empty
copper shells, a rawhide thong, a rusty old
spur, and a large button. No money.

At least Mason hadn't robbed Briggs. But
had he killed the rancher, in blind anger at
being refused a job? What stronger evidence
could there be than to catch a man at the '
scene of the crime, still grasping the murder
weapon?

And Art Cook, owner of the Double T

ranch, was an unimpeachable witness.

Yet Sheriff Ames hesitated. He knew there
had also been trouble and bitter words lately
between Briggs and Cook, over the waterhole
lying between their ranches. Still, sensible
ranchers eventually took such disputed claims
to court. They didn't shoot each other down
like dogs.

The sheriff sighed and called Art Cook in
from the next room, for his final statement.
'You swear you saw Cal Mason standing over
the body of Sam Briggs, with a gun in his
hand?"

"I do, Sheriff," nodded Art Cook firmly.
"He had no chance to sneak away after the
deed. 1 grabbed him quick and brought him
in to you."

"I— I didn't do it," moaned Cal Mason hope-
lessly. "Please, Sheriff . . ."

Shaking his head, Ames picked up his keys
to lock up Cal Mason for trial. The keys lay
near the trash from Mason's pockets. The
sheriff paused, staring.

"That big brown button, Cal," he asked
suddenly. "Where did you pick it up?"

Surprised, Mason thought a moment. "Why,
right near the dead man. Force 'of habit, I
reckon. Like picking up the gun. Didn't even
know what I was doing. ..."

"Maybe you did, without knowing it,"
snapped Ames. "Whaf would that button be
doing on the range— unless it was accidentally
ripped off the coat of the killer? Maybe he
had words with the victim first. A struggle.
Look at your coat, Col Mason! Do you see a
missing button?"

The old man looked down puzzled. "No
button missing on my coat. Sheriff."

"Right," agreed Ames. He swung around.
He didn't have to say anything, or even
point.

Art Cook was looking down at his own
coat, his eyes slowly filling with horror. There
were holes in his coat for six big brown
burtons.

Six .holes. But only five buttons.

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1

THE CHUCKWALLA

Like many other members of the lizard family,
the chuckwalla prefers to live in the dry, rocky,
desert regions of southwestern United States.
When faced with a dangerous predator, this foot
long relative of the iguana protects himself by
growing fat — for, by first crawling into an avail-
able crevice, the chuckwalla inflates his large
lungs and expands his loose body skin tight
against the walls of the crevice. Now, securely
wedged, even the most determined enemy will

be unable to remove him, and nrnstjgive' upj.
Oftentimes, this lizard buries himself in the loose
sand. His nostrils are specially constructed to
prevent sand from getting into his lungs, and his
lower jaw fits snugly over the upper so that sand
does not penetrate his mouth.*
Feeding on flower buds and blossoms, the chuck-
walla does most of his foraging at night; for even
this cold-blooded fellow finds the blazing desert
sand uninviting during the daylight hours.

Tracked by the clever Keenay,
the great stallion matches wits
with his Indian foe-

Read "How Silver Treed Keenay!'
In the July-September

SILVER

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Skating'! fun for short and tall
But bumping others means a t.

lOOfC/KlDS/TlM Mom that
JUICY FRUIT GUM is pur. and
wholesome and won't fill you
up between meals. Remind
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JX'^rigT

""ANoV^I