Hello folks, this is Ken Maynard and Tarzan.
I'm inviting you to join us here in the tack room of the Diamond Cay Ranch for another 15 minutes of adventure.
You know, you'd be surprised at all the exciting stories I've heard during my travels with rodeos, circuses, wild west shows,
and even on location when I'm making motion pictures here in Hollywood.
And the tack room is about the best place in the world to sit and visit.
You know, sometimes it's the only home a cowboy ever had.
Sort of a bunk room and a living room all rolled into one.
And I'll tell you, it's a mighty cozy place for storytelling.
So why don't you buckaroos, and mom and dad too, kind of relax there in a big easy chair,
and I'll tell you a little yarn called Poison Gold.
From the tack room of Ken Maynard's Diamond Cay Ranch, we're bringing you stories of adventure,
stories of circus life, fascinating transcribed tales of the Old West where cowboys still follow the cattle trails,
stories of rodeos and parades, colorful legends of the Red Man, hidden gold and buried treasure.
The exciting tales from the Diamond Cay are told by Hollywood's champion of western stars, internationally famous Ken Maynard.
Say folks, when you meet a champion like Ken, you just know he's full of adventurous stories, real life stories too.
But did you know Ken Maynard holds the world's championship for trick riding, and Ken's hunted for gold himself.
Stunt ridden in the circus, made scores of movies in Hollywood and so on.
So naturally his stories are just loaded with thrills.
And kids, you can have some of those stories for your very own to hear anytime you want.
I'm talking about Ken's exciting Diamond Cay album of phonograph records.
And listen, these stories were made especially for you.
Ken opens the stories with a personal message for you, and he'll call you by name like,
Hello George, or John, or Sally.
And Ken will speak right to you alone on your set of Diamond Cay records.
Now can you tie that partner? No siree, and you can't beat the value either.
Here's what you get, a beautiful record album with a thrilling picture of Ken and Tarson on the front,
and inside are four sides, two complete Wild West stories that start out by Ken talking personally to you.
The two big eight inch unbreakable records are made of pure, expensive vinylite,
on standard 78 RPM speed to play on the regular, familiar kind of phonograph.
And they have pictures of Ken and Tarson on them too.
It's so easy to get a Diamond Cay record album.
All you do is send your name and address to records in care of this station, and enclose a one dollar bill.
That's all. Just a one dollar bill for ages of fun and enjoyment.
Don't forget you can't buy these records in any store because Ken makes them just for you,
and he calls you by name right on the record.
Now don't wait to get your Diamond Cay record album,
because the sooner you write, the sooner you get your personalized record album.
So write now to records in care of this station and enclose a one dollar bill.
Now let's hear the exciting story Ken has for us today.
Well sir, gather round close partners.
Of course I got a story today that will make the hair under your collar stand straight up and whistle.
Of course I wasn't there when it all happened since it was a few years before my time.
As a matter of fact, it was Big Jim Parsons that was telling me about it.
Big Jim is one of the biggest ranchers in the entire west.
Owns more acres of land in Arizona than just about any man alive today.
My friendship with Big Jim goes back to the days a few years ago when we were shooting a picture down his ranch.
But it wasn't until yesterday that Jim told me a tale that's one of the most unusual things I've ever heard.
We were sitting right in the tack room, started shooting the breeze when all of a sudden he turned to me and said,
Ken, how would you like to hear a true story that not many people know?
Well, I've always been on the lookout for a good story to pass on to my radio friends,
and I told him there's nothing I'd like better.
So he began.
It seemed as though it all started back in the hills of Arizona somewhere around the early 1900s.
Prospecting for gold in that country had been off and on for quite a few years.
Sometimes good, sometimes not so good.
Many's a man who'd spend his last penny looking for gold, only to end up a broken old man with nothing to show for it.
Many's a man who'd sacrifice most of his life trying to strike it rich right there in them Arizona hills.
Therefore, when a man has spent years and years in prospecting, when he was dirty and hungry,
and the temperature was well over the 100 mark, he'd sometimes do things that he wouldn't have done under more normal conditions.
Head in the gang of four such prospectors was a fellow known as Hard Rock George,
as tough and honorary and crithy as you'd ever want to run up against.
Hard Rock and his men had only one thing on their minds, gold, gold, and more gold.
And they had little patience with a 14-year-old orphan boy who did all the backbreaking, dirty work taking care of that gang.
Big Jim Parsons turned his chair away from the window to escape the brightened sun and continued on with his story.
Seems that just as the men were about ready to give up, they ran across a vein of gold, a rich vein of gold.
And of course they started working like mad men.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, as you wish, a lone prospector who had given up the search himself came by a short time later,
and sold the four men all of his remaining provisions.
The lone prospector turned out to be a very unscrupulous fellow named Blackie Ryan,
who quickly sized up the situation at the camp and decided that Hard Rock and his men had really made a strike for themselves.
Needless to say, he did or said nothing that wouldn't anyway let the others know he suspected their secret.
But leaning against a huge rock at night, looking up at the milky sky,
Blackie Ryan conceived one of the most daring underhanded schemes to ever come out of the West.
And as he made his way out of the hills and across the desert the following day,
he made up his mind that he would make it at all costs.
After spending a week or so in old Tucson, Blackie made several purchases and headed back across the desert
in the direction from which he had just come a few days earlier, making careful note of the water holes as he went along.
Finally he stopped and made camp near one of the small but well-located water holes.
And there he stayed for the next five weeks, riding up to the ridge every morning
and scanning the horizon for signs of the returning prospectors from the hills.
Meanwhile, Hard Rock and his men had become more gold-mad with each sack they'd dug from the hills.
And after working feverishly for many days, they finally reached a limit they could take out with them.
Having decided that the boy would have none of the gold,
and being afraid that he would tell others of the mine once they got back,
Hard Rock and the others decided to tie him to a rock and leave him.
This they did, despite the desperate pleadings of the poor boy.
Then the four men started out of the hills and across the hot desert to Tucson, many, many miles away.
Several nights later, just about dusk, after five weeks of patient waiting,
Blackie Ryan from his perch on the Wellberry Ridge finally saw four prospectors making their way away.
Without a second's hesitation, he raced back over the hills to the water hole,
jumped quickly from his horse, ripped open the two bags lying beside it, and dumped the contents into the water hole.
What was in the bags, I excitedly asked Parsons.
Can you said it was poison?
Blackie Ryan had poisoned the water hole.
Whew! Ah, telling this story gives me so excited I'm bone dry.
Got to have a drink of water.
While I'm cooling off here, let me interrupt the story just a second to tell you something I'm mighty proud of.
Have you heard about my K-shirt?
It started like a T-shirt, you know, a real western shirt that a friend of mine designed especially for me.
It's comfortable cotton, about the color of desert, and with a flaming diamond K brand centered on the front in sunset red.
And it's got our pictures on it, too, Tarsen and me.
Well, the kids in my neighborhood took a fancy to it and one-on-one liked it, so my friends made them up special.
Kid said, I ought to tell you all about it, so that's what I'm doing.
If you figure you'd like to have a K-shirt like I wear when I'm practicing tricks and fooling around,
you can get one if you want to drop me a note.
Fuller said he'd fix you up for only a dollar, and that surprised me.
Just name your size, two, four, six, eight, ten, or twelve.
And if you want a K-shirt like mine, just send your name and address to K-shirt in care of this station
and stick in one little old dollar bill.
It's as easy as falling off a corral fence.
Well, now let's see, where were we?
Oh, yes, Blackie ran and just dumped the poison in the water hole.
Well, sir, after doing this, Blackie hightailed it over to his hideout,
proceeded to watch the approaching prospectors with all the pleasure that a cat watches a mouse trapped in a corner.
Of course, Hard Rock and his men were very thirsty after their hot day on the desert,
and they made a beeline for the water hole along with their mules and horses.
Before the moon had risen, Hard Rock and his men and animals all lay stretched out by the water hole, dead.
Yep, the poison water had killed them all, much to the delight of Blackie Rhyne,
who had come from his hiding place and was already removing the gold from the backs of the mules.
He would take back with him to Tucson, the rest he would bury until he could return and get it.
So pleased was he over the clever way he had gotten his fortune,
he could hardly sleep at all until the wee small hours of the morning.
Soon as the first rays of sun hit the desert, he was up, full of nervous energy,
gathering his things together, making ready to start for Tucson.
After quickly burying the gold he couldn't take with him, he suddenly realized that his horse was gone.
In excitement of the previous night, he had forgotten to hobble him, but there was little need to be alarmed.
He was a good horse and wouldn't stray far, and sure enough he hadn't strayed far,
just down to the water hole where he now lay dead with the others.
First Blackie couldn't believe his eyes, then he became panicked and he realized that his own water supply would never last if he walked to Tucson.
Blinded with tears of rage, he hastily buried the rest of his ill-gotten gold and set out across the desert.
And there they found him several days later, not too far from the poisoned water hole and the men who had died before him.
What's that? Who found him?
Why, it was a young boy from the camp who had been left to die by the four prospectors.
His pitiful screams for help had attracted the attention of an old miner not too far away after the others had gone.
Of course, it didn't take long to figure out just exactly what had happened,
nor did it take him long to find the gold Blackie had so poorly buried in his rage.
So grateful was the boy to the old man who saved his life that in addition to giving him half of the gold,
he later showed him the location of the vein itself, and the two were partners from then on out,
with the other man acting as legal guardian for the boy and his money until he was of age.
Well, sir, after I'd heard the story from Big Jim Parsons, I was really right on the edge of my seat.
That sure was a dandy, Jim, I said. And what a surprise ending.
Jim leaned back in his chair and said, Yes, Ken, but the biggest surprise of the story is this.
I myself was a 14-year-old boy who nearly lost his life and later made a fortune.
Well, gosh, Ken, that was some story. You know, I could listen to that one again and again.
And speaking of stories, kids, wouldn't you like to be able to hear some of Ken's famous stories whenever you want?
Well, you can with Ken's Maynards, with Ken Maynard's exciting Diamond K album of Wild West records.
You can play them again and again for yourself and for your friends.
They're terrific stories, just packed full of excitement.
And best of all, these Ken Maynard records are personalized, made just for you and you alone with a message from Ken.
Now, when you put the needle down on the record, the first thing you'll hear is,
Hello, Teddy. Hello, Barbara.
or whatever your name is. Ken will say hello to you personally and tell you some of his favorite stories.
Remember, you get an album with two big eight-inch pure vinylite records inside that are unbreakable.
They're made on standard 78 RPM speed to play on the regular kind of phonograph that everybody's used for years.
Now, all you do to get a Diamond K album is send your name and address and just a one dollar bill to records in care of this station.
Do it now, buckaroos, because the faster you write, the faster you'll get your album.
Now, here's Ken to tell you about his next story.
Well, folks, it's time to bring our story round up to a close.
This is Ken Maynard in Tarzan.
Closing up the tack room of the Diamond K Rest till I see you next time, and I'll tell you the story called The Lake of Gold.
We'll be looking for you.
In the meantime, get them one dollar bills in the mail now for some real Western fun.
One for the K shirt and one for the Diamond K record album. So long now.
You've been listening to Tales from the Diamond K, told by Ken Maynard, internationally famous cowboy, stunt writer, and Hollywood's champion of Western stars.
Tales from the Diamond K was transcribed and produced in Hollywood.