as we watch this press conference across the board.
Tell me someone who's interested to speak to you a little bit more.
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who both were�면 passengers and flew both far,
are so excited to go with션?
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well let's go.
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Go to a bright place where we
Oh
And
Now for the adventures of lightning Jim
Late one night Hubert Butler owner of the Palmoli gold mine was weighing the bullion which was to be packed for shipment the following day
Hey, who's that? What?
Do not reach for that gun, sear Butler.
Why you can't get away with this. There's three guards standing outside of here.
But I managed to get in here sear. Perhaps I shall be able to get out as well.
You try to get out carrying the gold is sure to get there.
I do not want your filthy gold sear.
You're doing that for the gold? Well, what do you want?
You see what I hold in my hands sear Butler?
Yeah sure, sure I see. The knife, the silver knife.
You're right. It is a silver knife. And on the handle is carved a word. Muerto.
Muerto? What? Why that's Spanish for death?
Se se se señor. Muerto. And the blade. Can you see the blade se se?
Yeah, yeah, yeah I see it.
This blade also has carvings se se butler. Would you like to know what name is written on this blade?
No, no, no, no. What do I care what name is carved on your filthy knife? Keep away from me.
The name that is engraved on this blade se se se your own Hubert Butler.
My name? You got my name on that knife? You ain't going to kill me are you?
Here here take the gold. I'll order the guard to offer. I'll fix it so you can take it all.
Oh god dammit.
And late in that same month in the valley below the Pomerle load, Ernest Livingston, judge of the district court,
fits up late reviewing the records of the day's hearings.
Ernest, you know your leading sense?
Well.
What in tarnishing?
Who?
Stay where you are, sir.
All right, all right. You got me covered. But you're wasting your time, mate. I haven't any cash in the house.
I'm not interested in your cash, your leading sense.
Not interested in cash? Well, what are you here for then?
Why?
You're here to get this from your butler. I am Carl Ellen Reto.
Yes.
You mean you're the low-boiled-up knife butler?
Yes.
Here's to your...Muerto.
Yes.
Hey. What's that?
A knife.
A silver knife.
Yes.
You ain't going to kill me?
What?
You're amazed, your dear Mr. Mett.
I've been grazed on his bed. He could be taking away so much hard work, you know it, my dear.
No. No. Don't tell me. I'll get the money. I'll get it tomorrow.
Thank you.
No. Don't do it.
No.
Two weeks later in his room at district headquarters, United States Marshal Herman Trudy tosses restlessly in his briefs.
Wake up, my dear Trudy.
Huh? What? Who was it?
Elmo Reto.
You were expecting me, were you not, your Marshal?
Yes. Yes. Yes. I mean...I mean, no. No. Of course I wasn't expecting you. Why should I be expecting you?
No lie, Marshal Trudy. You knew I would kill you if I appeared to your butler in good leading.
No. No.
As I leave to your cellar this afternoon, you are gone.
No. No. No.
I'm telling you. A knife. A silver knife. No. No. Don't do it. Don't kill me. I'll get the money.
No. No.
Hideous, sardonic laughter. The quick thrust of a silver knife beat into her throat. Elmo Reto has claimed another victim.
Three lives have been forfeited to the rapacious vengeance of the unknown killer, the last, that of a United States Marshal.
And Lightning Jim is sent down to southern territory to bring to justice this field of the borderline.
Every ordeal, fifteen miles from our Yamante. And Mr. Dog gone hungry, I could eat a boiled dog, a cheddless and all by then.
Your story is mysterious, Whitey.
Mysterious? Well, let me tell you right now Lightning Jim, I don't see nothing mysterious about being hungry. I'd like to talk in the night.
Hungry? Oh yeah, you were talking about being hungry earlier, Whitey.
Well, of all things, you mustn't listen to King Iced-Head.
I'm sorry, but I was just trying to figure out what possible connection there could be to the murder of a rich mine owner, a United States Marshal, and the judge of the district.
Well, maybe this Wilmu Erso yesterday is a madman, that's right. Maybe there is no connection to the killing.
Oh, if Wilmu Erso was just a mad killer, Whitey, why would he bother to go through the victim's papers every time?
No, sir, I'd bet my bottom dollar that he is as sane as you or me.
What more? I think that the things he finds out after he's murdered lead him to his next killer.
Then you must think he's going to stick a knife into somebody else, since he knew eventually Marshal Toole is private.
That's just what I think, Whitey. And the only link between these three men, Butler, Judge Livingston, and Marshal Toole, that we've been able to discover is the purchase of the Palmley Goldmine property.
Well, let's see now. Butler got their land by buying up the mortgage from the bank, didn't he?
Yes. The property originally belonged to a Mexican horseman named Manuel Madrigueras.
He was hung for murdering his wife, so this property was sold at public auction.
Oh, my dear, look who's riding this thing. Oh, boy, oh.
Well, the very mid-dow. Hey, hey, mid-dow, you're old son of a gun. How are you?
I'm good. Master of all.
It's me, mid-dow, right there in the gym.
Oh, lovely kid.
Ah, ha. Sweetie. And Whitey, too.
Oh, this is the bride.
Oh, I'm happy again.
Well, forgive me, I didn't recognize my so good friend. It's been a long time since we've met, your honor. I didn't look to see you this far at the time.
Oh, and it was a surprise to see you too.
Yes, I thought you was in the East.
Oh, see, I am in the East for two years, your honor. I've much loved me, well, Capiton here.
Now I come back to my home to get more horse-carriage, you see. But, but we, you know, we're down here to the border, huh?
You know, the state's morsel went and got themselves carried here in the air a month ago, Miguel. See? And like me, it's coming for the rest for the children.
El Muerto is called.
Oh, El Muerto, huh?
Yeah.
Oh, you're on the tail of El Muerto.
That is.
Gee, I hear of El Muerto seeing you like these gyms. He has two others beside his morsel you speak of. No, Especay?
Two others, Miguel. And I've got a hunch there'll be more. We don't nab the murder and lobo for long.
Gee, how about talking all this over rather, East?
Yeah, I could tuck away some food myself, Whitey. Come on, Miguel, we all ride into Iamonte and talk over old times while we eat, huh?
Oh, I'm so sorry, but East is already nearly dark and I have an appointment to see if I can find horse-easy.
Oh, it's too bad.
Oh, maybe we'll need tomorrow, eh?
Sure, Miguel, and I hope the horse is going to look. That turns out to be what you want.
Well, he is the right color anyway for your... for a part of my world, if you'll settle that, Lee. The right color.
You really want to buy just any color horse, Miguel? Even if it's plenty fast?
Oh, I will buy any color, Whitey, so long as he is all one.
Oh, go buy a horse that's got martens, is that it, Miguel?
Yes, please. Oh, martens horses, they are like in my card. Both bad luck for Miguel, huh?
Oh, you say like a little bit of something to that. Miguel's LCP10 is solid sorrel.
Tondre's solid black, and my horse is all white and they were all locked.
You better find out whether that works for dogs too, Whitey. If it does, your pup better start looking for a new home.
Oh, if that's so, well, my puppy dog has the prettiest martens I ever saw.
But I tell you, if he was spotted like a leopard, I still think he was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me, my darling.
That night, after hashing and rehashing the evidence so far accumulated,
Lightning Jim is forced to the conclusion that the only possible link between the murders of the judge, the United States Marshal, and the owner of the Palmerley Load
must lie hidden beneath the event of the mine purchase.
In desperation, the two marshals walk over to the home of Simon Russell, president of the Ayamonte Bank.
A Mexican is saying for murder in his life. No LCP10 list it and a judge ownership for the public auction to pay off the mortgages.
Yet we got the Yankie Preston over the bank at the midnight.
Ah, it ain't Russell's sleep you're worrying about, Whitey, it's your own. But he's still awake. There are a few things I'd like to know about that mortgages on Manuel Madrigal's property.
Ah, there ain't nothing to that, Lightning, but the mortgages in the flock, you know.
Yeah? So lucky that two months later he can think a chap with a wicked vein of ore in the state of New Mexico.
Dear Lightning, ain't this case no stopping now for us is finding more trouble.
Hey, you sure ain't strong on brain diseases, are you, Whitey? Well, you will never be no more than just a deputy if you don't learn to do a little detective work.
Even if United States marshals call for more than just liking to fight and being able to handle a six-ton, you know.
Oh, maybe so. But knowing how to use a six-ton is going to come in handy when we meet up with the Elmoretto.
Yes, here we are, Whitey. This is the Bank of House. Hmm, wonder what this force is doing tight out there this time in Ireland.
Maybe what will hit company, Lightning?
Yeah, ain't that horse that beef with the horse?
Ah, boy, you know.
Look at them legs now.
Yeah, carry that boy now.
Ooh, music boy, we ain't gonna have this.
Boy, Lightning, I bet your horse can go like true blaze.
Yeah, sure.
Yeah, wouldn't Miguel like to own this boy?
No, Miguel wouldn't. We have nothing to do with him, Whitey. Look at the white blaze on his face. Yeah, white to foot wide.
Oh, that's right, Lightning. Miguel won't ride a horse just like that, Martin, son.
No, so long, old fella.
Come on, Whitey. You need to bother the Bank of Winter's Dutch Company, but our business is important.
I can't wait.
So, Lightning, the front door's already open?
Yeah.
Hey, hot stuff?
Quick, Whitey, that's crazy things from over here.
This door's locked. Do they have to break it down?
Yeah, come on now. Both at once.
Go!
Again.
Again, hot.
There you are.
See, the lights can put out.
Yeah, that's our window, Whitey. It's open.
There he goes.
Hold on, hold on, Dino. You're shooting Whitey. It's out of range.
Oh, he's got the way and the horse. They must have tied up, Whitey.
Hey, do you think they must have El Mureto like him?
I don't know, Whitey. There's a lamp. I light it and we can look around.
Over in the corner, Whitey. I'm bored with them. They must be the bankers.
Yeah, I reckon so, Whitey. That was El Mureto that got away all right.
Look at the handle of this knife and the stuff that's stuck.
Where are we standing, El Torquil, like this?
Come on, let's get on the tail of that bird and pill.
No, Whitey, that wouldn't do no good.
Time we could make it back to headquarters and get our horses.
El Mureto would be safely hidden back in the hills.
Sure, where are we going to be next?
I blasted it. Look at this knife.
Why, Whitey, it's just like the others. And it's got rust with me and a blade, too.
Come on, Whitey. We're going to bust open that private space in the corner there
and have a look at the bankers' personal accounts.
I'm going to catch this bloodthirsty sidewinder, El Mureto.
It's the last thing I ever do.
Look at the time, Whitey.
3 a.m. You'll sure keep a good hour, Whitey.
After all I told you about little boys eating their sleepers.
What a great horn, too, Whitey. Listen to this.
Mr. Simon Russell, et cetera.
I want you to tell Butler he can take his cut out of the first yield of the Pomerle load
and he can give you and the judge and marshal truly yours at the same time.
You'll pay me.
Buying the equipment to sink the shaft has taken all my cash,
and I can't pay any of you till the mines start paying.
Oh, now I'm paid.
And with a little F-8.
By golly, Slyton, that must mean that Butler wasn't a real owner of the Pomerle goldmine, is it?
Yeah, judging from this letter, he was just a figurehead.
Hmm, I wonder who has the little F-8.
See, speaking of H's, Slyton, they tell me that Ransker answered to 430 years for the Pomerle goldmine.
It's the biggest in the whole country.
You know the ladder H, Svans.
The ladder H?
The man who owns the ladder H, Fritz Hoffman, F-8.
He must be the real owner of the Pomerle mine.
It's a...
Where you asking, Olly?
We're not here to hear from you, John.
The big capitalist, it's El Muerto.
All right, El Muerto, you got the drop on us.
That is very interesting information, Mr. El Muerto.
About Fritz Hoffman only the car of Pomerle goldmine I mean.
Eh, he's a thing I did not know.
So that's what you came back for, eh? To find the name of your next victim.
Hey, and you have told you.
It is Fior Hoffman.
And perhaps I have come back to kill you as well, Senior Marshal.
Why you dirty two-legged poor cat, you.
Hasn't you got enough blood on your hands already?
Don't worry, Olly.
El Muerto ain't gonna kill us.
Why he ain't had time to carve our names on his fancy knives?
He wouldn't want to spoil his reputation by anything so ordinary as a cutie.
Now, would you, El Muerto?
You're a very brave man, Senior Marshal, to make joke when you are at the mercy of El Muerto.
But if I am to say to kill you, that I have killed yours, I must get to work.
Three knives.
It will take time to engrave three knives.
We are going to carve our names on your nice, very skinned, bayan hat you.
Why not, Fior?
Now, would you, on second thought, I believe I shall tie you up
and place you in the closet which is just behind you.
It will save me the trouble of keeping you covered while I work.
Does El Muerto, the fiendish killer of poor men, really plan to murder Lightning Jim and Whitey
as well as Fritz Hoffman, owner of the Ladder 8 ranch?
The surprising climax of this Lightning Jim adventure follows immediately.
And now for part two of the Lightning Jim adventure, the Vengeance of El Muerto.
Having capped the two marshals, El Muerto has bound them tightly
and locked them in a large closet at the home of the murdered bank president.
For more than an hour, they struggle to free themselves.
And finally, by a gigantic effort, Lightning Jim succeeds in loosening the rope about his wrist.
When he has reached the end of the rope, he is able to pull the rope out of the
and the rope is pulled out of the
When he has reached the end of the rope, he is able to pull the rope out of the
And the two
Where are you going?
Yes, under.
You need to go.
What's up, buddy?
Look at that girl down by the tree below.
Yeah, I see.
Over the bridge.
Maybe that's El Muranto.
Let me see, buddy.
What are you doing to that horse?
Tell me the spag to assist me.
I can't see.
But whatever he's doing, it's your working order to tell me.
Hey, listen, buddy.
If that's El Muranto, we don't want to take no chances on this different way.
I'm going to challenge him from here.
Brace for the sky, painter.
Caramo!
Brace for the sky, painter.
Miguel!
Immortal!
Where the hell are you going?
Demons all around the city.
They're coming one moment!
Make them shake!
They're coming!
Imma rem
the rest!
Oh!
Shit, I'm not an Motorsport fan.
But you see, I had a race with Mr. Hoffman's horse this morning,
and we should give the Capiton plenty of time to rest on the ride out to the latter edge.
Oh, but give this lot what you're doing to El Capiton when we go, don't you, Miguel?
It looks like you're giving him a bath or something.
Oh, no, no, no, Whitey, I'm just giving El Capiton a little water in my hand,
so that he will not drink too heavy before the big race.
Now, the decree's serious, if they satisfy Whitey, let's get going.
Come on, Miguel, we're heading for the latter edge, too,
and we can ride the rest of the way together, huh?
Oh, see, see, can you order this fine idea?
Oh, stay here, Capiton, go.
Hey, hey, you're looking something, Miguel.
That black thing that's about to fall out of your saddlebag.
Yeah, they're good.
Yeah, well, it's a cape, a black cape.
Oh, that's what it is, all right.
Where'd you get that cape, Miguel?
Oh, I find him over there by the bridge.
Yeah?
See, he's all foiled up.
He's fine cape, no?
I'm lucky man, you know what I forgot?
You think there is El Muerto's cape, Miguel?
El Muerto?
This cape belongs to El Muerto?
Well, it can be sure, of course, but it
looks like the one El Muerto was wearing last night riding up.
Last night?
You see El Muerto last night, you know it?
Sure, and what's more, we saw a horse, too, Miguel.
That's a dead ringer for El Capiton,
except that it's got the big right blist on the front of the face.
Horse?
Where is it?
There is not other horse like El Capiton, no horse.
Ha, ha, ha.
Well, I reckon we all feel that way about our own horses, Miguel.
Yes, that gives me an idea.
You do something for me, Miguel.
Of course, certainly, see, you're right, it's you.
Good.
I want you to ride back to Iamonte and scout around for that horse.
Why didn't he just describe to you?
Yes, that's a good idea.
Everyone knows that Miguel wants to buy a horse,
and this way no one will suspect he's on the trail of El Muerto.
But my race, señor, I've told El Muerto I will arrive by 9 o'clock.
Yeah, well, I wouldn't worry about that race if I were you, Miguel.
Unless I'm very much mistaken,
this Hoffman is lying up at his ranch house
that one of El Muerto's silver divers is picking in his gullet.
Oh, yes, but he's incredible.
This El Muerto, he is displace to my people.
Here, I will try to find this horse for you pronto.
All right, now get going and report back to my headquarters
if you don't find no trace of him by noon.
Si, señor.
Oh, but the caper, I may have the caper.
Ha, ha, try to take a little shine to that caper, ain't you?
Sure, you can have it sorted to him, why not?
Hey, look at that, there's something in the pocket there.
My, my, see, that's an account book, an account book and some salt.
Give me that notebook, Whitey.
Notebook? Is it any art of notebook?
Hmm, no, Miguel, this is Fritz Hoffman's private account book.
Reckon this proves I was right about Hoffman being dead.
He'll kill you, many like him, he's got to do something in a hurry.
This blood-pasty coyote will kill everybody in the country
if we don't get some sort of...
That is so, señor, like he's in.
But he can do nothing, he can do to stop me.
Till you find any notations in the book
that will help us track down these miserable goats of our village.
Well, here's the funny thing.
About the time of the purchase of the Parmily load,
Hoffman paid a thousand dollars to Pedro Geronimo.
Pedro Geronimo?
Yeah.
My, that's Black Pedro, and he owns the big game,
and he went back and I am a pig.
Yep, that's just what it is, Whitey.
Now, where do you suppose a rat like Black Pedro comes into this picture?
Hey, señor, I must be on my way.
For every minute that these many artists lose,
it's a danger to your reputation.
And pity lies of our prominent village.
Adios, my friend.
Yeah, you're right, Miguel.
Good luck to you.
Good luck, Miguel.
Goodbye.
Come on, Thunder, get yourself a good long drink, old boy,
and we'll head on for the latter eight.
That's good idea, Lyson.
We may never find out something else.
By the way, where'd you be with that piece of chalk
you found in the tree's pocket, Whitey?
Oh, here it is, sir.
Hey, Miguel went off without the tape, Lyson.
He must have all the faulty leads over there, too.
Well, he got tired, tired when he,
when he found out a count book, Whitey.
Well, don't just get started on the tail of this, uh...
Holy mook.
What's the trouble, Lyson?
It's chalk, Whitey.
It's got some horse hairs on it.
Horse hairs?
Well, Lyson...
There's no time to explain now, Whitey.
If we've got to ride like the wind,
we're going to prevent another El Muriato murder.
Let's go, Thunder!
Come in, come in.
Mother of the deus, El Muriato!
Here, El Muriato.
Then for your sins, Black Pedro,
you are going to die.
Die by these knives.
Oh, the silver knife!
Oh, no, no.
I have not done anything.
You cannot pull that thing.
Put your hands down from your lines,
throw two keys.
I am...
Oh, I still have the knife!
You're a thief, you're a fool,
you cannot kill Black Pedro!
For your sins, I will give up.
You are not to fight, eh?
Oh, the end is near.
The same thing will be over.
That's it.
That's all.
That's it.
No.
Oh, come, guys.
Oh, boy.
This is Penny Boy.
This is my buddy.
Yes, we're a bit too late, my dear.
Wait a minute.
One of them is dead yet.
My...
My daddy is El Muriato.
My daddy is Black Pedro, my dear.
That's my dear.
He's a fool.
Oh, no, dear.
Like anything, what's not wrong with him?
Yes.
You are El Muriato, my dear.
Yes, my dear.
The girl is El Muriato.
But tell me, my friend,
how did you discover Black Pedro?
How did you discover that I was El Muriato?
It was a piece of chalk Whitey found in the kitchen pocket
that gave me the clue, Miguel.
Soon as I saw the horse there still clinging to it,
I got to thinking how El Muriato's horse
was a dead ring up to your El Capitan.
Except for the white blaze.
No, I get it like that.
Miguel, you saw the white blaze in El Capitan's,
it's true.
What's what it's called?
That's it, Whitey.
But what made you do it, Miguel?
Murder all these men I mean.
It got to do with him.
I came back to my home and found
that my mother had been murdered.
And my father had yet been hung for the crime.
But then you must be the son of Manuel Madrigal.
Please, please, Miguel.
Manuel, he was my father.
He was Hoffman.
He found out from him
that there is gold on El Fata's land.
So he hired Black Pedro to kill my mother.
Hired Black Pedro to feed your mother,
shoot a woman down in cold blood.
I don't think so, Lord.
But that is not all.
Here are Hoffman.
He's right to hate and to love him.
But my father had seen a hidden joy.
A hidden joy for a handful of gold, a hidden man.
I really know what it is.
But what about the bankers?
You didn't do nothing but sell them all
and then you have not got the gold to market the others.
The CR does say he knows all about the problem.
They all know.
The people was so smart.
Now I want to get to find out
where the mysterious things are.
I, it's right, I, I find out.
I feel them.
Oh.
He's gone, I think.
He's dead.
Yeah, buddy.
The girl's dead.
Yeah, man, certainly glad you lived long enough
to tell us why you killed all those men like that.
I saw what I hear to the think of McGarvey's
cold-blooded killing like they've seen the first.
Yes, lady, and I'm going to do my best to see to it
that the next marital and judge who are appointed to this territory
are men who can be trust to uphold the rights of Mexicans and Americans alike.
And so ends another thrilling chapter
in the adventures of Lightning Jim Whipple, United State Marshal,
and his deputy, Whitey Lawson.
Thank you.