Original subtitles

OLD RANGER: And now,Death Valley Days.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]

Hi-yah!

Yah!

Yah!

Howdy, folks.

I'’m the Old Ranger,

and I have another interesting true story for you

about the historic Death Valley country.

It is the year 1881.

More than 30 years have passed

since the first cry of, "Gold in California"

went echoing around the world.

But still the stagecoaches rolled, carrying treasure from the mines.

No longer in the form of dust, but bars of solid bullion,

zealously guarded by Wells Fargo,

for at every bend in the road lurked bandits who believed that...

The Sonora stage bound for San Francisco

is just loading on this hot, midsummer day.

The one lady passenger is pretty Jeanie Porter,

niece of the local Wells Fargo agent.

Good-bye, Uncle Cliff.

Have a good trip, my dear.

I'’ll look for you back in a couple of weeks.

Oh, I'’m sorry, sir. This gentleman was about to sit there.

That'’s all right. I'’m riding on top.

Thank you.Oh, Jim.

I'’ll see you when we stop to change horses, Jeanie.

That it?

Another box coming.

$125,000 in bullion.

And Jeanie wonders why I'’m riding on top.

She knows nothing about it, of course.

You thought it would make her nervous?

When you'’ve been with Wells Fargo a little longer,

you'’ll realize that the less anybody knows about treasure shipments,

the better.

That'’s why I waited until the last minute to put it on.

Well, good-bye, sir.

Good luck.

Yah! Hi-yah! [ whistles ]

Yah! Yah!

Yah! Yah!

Westbound stage for Frisco. Yah! Yah! [ whistles ]

Yah! Yah!Ten bars bullion.

Driver, Hank Green.

Jim Burney, detective, riding shotgun.

Yah! Yah!

Hey! [ whistles ]

Yah! Yah! Yah!

Whoo. It'’s a hot day.

It is August.

Would you object if I loosened my collar and tie?

I know it'’s not polite in the company of a lady.

No. I'’ve already removed my gloves.

I couldn'’t stand them any longer.

Thank you.

Whoo.

Yah! Yah!

Yah!

Yah! Hey! [ whistles ]

Yah! Yah! Yah!

Yah! Yah!

[ whistles ] Yah! Yah!

Hey, pull up! Drop your gun!Whoa!

Drop that shotgun.

Now the gun and belts.

You, too.

All right. Now throw down those boxes.

Hey! One at a time.

Get back inside.

Why, you dirty blaggard, I--

Oh! Oh!

Stay inside.

All right. Get going, and don'’t stop.

Yah!

Yah! Yah!

This just came in, sir.

Hmm.

[ inhales sharply ]

Bad news, sir?

From Jim Burney.

Stage was held up the other side of Chinese camp.

Lost the whole shipment.

Ten bars of bullion?

Holy smoke.[ sighs ]

He'’s at Old Dale Station, awaiting orders.

Wire Burney to return here at once.

Yes, sir.

Ho.

You come face to face with a man but can'’t describe him.

Well, he had his hat pulled down and a bandana over his face.

His voice. You heard his voice.

It was low and harsh. Probably disguised.

That'’s a big help.

Well, I'’m just telling you, sir.

Tell me how he got wind of the fact there was treasure aboard, huh?

Tell me that.I don'’t know, sir.

He wasn'’t working alone. That'’s certain.

Well, there was only one set of footprints at the scene of the holdup.

I examined the ground thoroughly.

He had a confederate on the stage.

Someone who gave him a signal.

Did you question the passengers?

Did you?

Well, according to Jeanie, they were all dozing inside when it happened.

Like the detective up topside.

We had no chance to put up a fight, sir.

I know, I know. I'’m not blaming you.

All I care about is recovering that gold.

It'’s somewhere.

Ten bars of bullion can'’t just disappear into thin air.

Well, I'’ll do my best.

Your job depends on it.

A hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars is a whale of a loss

for Wells Fargo to take.

So you just get busy before whoever stole those bars melts them down.

Why would he melt them down?

All he can do is make gold bars out of them again.

By melting them down,

he'’ll destroy the numbers and weights stamped on them

so they can'’t be identified.

Of course. Stupid of me.

I'’ll give you ten days to uncover some evidence.

Meanwhile, we'’ll post notices

offering a reward.

I see they have a reward posted.

Lot of money.Mmm.

Well, Mr. Crothers. How'’s the arm?

Oh, it'’s fine, Mr. Burney.

Say, I think I have some information

that may be of interest to Wells Fargo.

Well, in that case, come right into the office.

I have some information also.

Oh? You two are together?

No. We just happened to meet here while reading the notice.

Uh, say, Mr. Burney of Wells Fargo, this is Mr.--

Barnes. Edward Barnes. Mining engineer. Glad to know you, sir.

Shall we step inside, gentlemen?

By all means.

Mr. Nichols, I don'’t know how useful this will be to you.

It may be just a wild stab in the dark,

but I thought I'’d come in and tell you anyhow.

All during that holdup, there was something very familiar

about that bandit'’s voice,

but hanged if I could place him.

Then last night, all of a sudden, it came to me.

About a week or so ago, I was in a restaurant up in Columbia.

Sitting next to me was a man with red hair.

I guess the red hair was the reason I sort of noticed him.

Well, sir, two of the waitresses came over to him,

and both of them started to take his order.

And he said, "Hey, one at a time."

The very words that express agent used

when he told you to throw down the express boxes.

Their voices sounded alike?

And no mistake about it.

To my way of thinking, they'’re one and the same fella.

Aside from his having red hair,

can you remember anything else about his appearance?

Oh, he looked like any miner.

How tall was he?

I told you he was sitting down.

But he was a husky build.

I'’d say he weighed, oh, 190, 200 pounds.

Well, that'’s about all there is to it.

Not much to go on.

[ sighs ]

Mr. Crothers,

before the holdup, did you notice

any of the stage passengers who were acting suspiciously?

"Suspiciously"?

Yeah. Leaning out the window, waving a handkerchief?

Why, I had my own handkerchief out.

I was mopping my brow.

In other words, you noticed nothing.No, sir.

Thank you, Mr. Crothers.

Would you mind waiting a minute while we speak with the other gentleman,

in case some more questions come up?

Why, not at all.

Will you come in, Mr. Barnes?

Mr. Nichols, Mr. Barnes.

I understand you have some information

regarding the Sonora stage robbery.

Oh, perhaps, perhaps not. Anyway, I thought it worth passing on.

Worth $5,000, you hope.

Well, so do I. What is it?

Well, on the afternoon of August 18th--

That was the date of the holdup?

I was riding along the road going in the same direction

the stage had taken, only some miles behind it.

Shortly before I got to the bend of the road,

a man came riding toward me at full gallop.

His saddlebags were bulging, and he carried a gun.

What did he look like?Well, he passed me too quickly to get much of a description.

But there'’s one thing I did notice because his hat had fallen off.

He had red hair.Red?

A real brick color.

Mr. Barnes, could you give us any idea of the size of this man?

Not with any degree of accuracy.

He was riding like the wind.

Would you say he was large or small?

Oh, on the large side.

Probably tipped the scales at 200 pounds.

What kind of horse was he riding?

That'’s not important. He could change horses.

Thank you, Mr. Barnes. Thank you very much.

I'’m glad if I'm been able to help, sir.

Well, you and Mr. Crothers both.

Do you want to question me some more?

That won'’t be necessary, Mr. Crothers.

Your description of the suspect tallied perfectly

with that of Mr. Barnes.

Would you leave your addresses, please?

Uh, San Francisco, general delivery.

I'’m leaving shortly for Mexico to attend to some mining interests,

but mail addressed to me at Chihuahua will reach me.

Good.

Well, now we'’re really on the track of something.

Speaking of tracks, sir--

I'’ve gotten more information out of those two men in five minutes

than you'’ve given me in the past five days.

I'’d still like to know what kind of horse that bandit could have been riding.

It'’s the rider we're after, man, not the horse.

But my point is--

And you call yourself a detective?

I'’m doing my best, Mr. Nichols.

It'’s not good enough for Wells Fargo.

You'’re fired.

Oh, Jim, how dreadful to have fallen down on your very first assignment.

But I didn'’t.

If I'’d been given just a little more time,

I'’d have got to the bottom of this case.

I feel so responsible.

It'’s not your fault. It'’s just my hard luck.

I-I asked my uncle to hire you.

You did?

Yes. I told him how wonderful you were. I really believed it.

But you don'’t anymore.

Well, weren'’t there any clues you could follow up?

There'’s the testimony that'’s just come in

about a thick-set redheaded man.

Nothing else?

The footprints and other tracks

around the empty express boxes, and--

And this.

Well, that'’s my glove.

Yes.Well, where did you find it?

I lost it at the time of the holdup.

And I picked it up in the road

about a mile this side of the holdup place.

Well, how in the world--

Your uncle has a theory that someone in the stage

was in cahoots with the robber.

Signaled him there was gold aboard.

Well, I still don'’t understand.

As a detective, may I point out

that a glove thrown from the window

would make a mighty good signal?

Jim Burney, are you implying that I threw that glove out on purpose to warn a bandit?

I'’m only trying to point out--Well, I'’ve never been so insulted in all my life!

Will you please let me finish?

I'’ve heard all I want to.Jeanie, listen.

I'’m just trying to tell you

that any other detective on the job

would put you through a grilling.

Any other detective wouldn'’t be as stupid as you are.

We'’ll see.

Let me have that glove. I...

Oh, Jim-- Jim, where you going?Away from here.

Oh, Jim, I'’m sorry. I didn'’t mean what I said. Oh, please come back.

When this case has been solved, and not until then.

Good-bye.

Jim! [ door closes ]

A sack of mail for the boys up in the mines,

and worth its weight in gold.

Speaking of gold, Uncle Cliff...

We'’re still as much in the dark as ever.

And it'’s been months now since the holdup.

We'’ve raised the reward, put our top men on the job.

And even they can'’t solve it.

You never should have fired him, Uncle Cliff.

Who? Jim Burney?

It wasn'’t fair.

I'’m afraid I did act impulsively,

but I thought we'’d uncovered a really hot trail.

The redheaded man.Yes.

Who disappeared, apparently, from the face of the earth,

along with 500 pounds of bullion.

Does Burney still hold it against me?

I don'’t know.

I haven'’t heard from him in all these months.

I didn'’t realize you cared that much about him, Jeanie.

If anything'’s happened to him, I'’ll never forgive myself.

Oh, nothing'’s happened to him.

But it'’s not like him not to write.

I'’ll tell you what I'll do.

I'’ll send word to all the Wells Fargo offices

to keep an eye out for him.

If he'’s anywhere in this country, they'’ll locate him.

Oh, Uncle Cliff.

[ chuckles ]

Tell you the truth,

I sort of had that young fella on my own mind.

Jeanie? A wire just came in from our head office in San Francisco.

"Expect Jim Burney on afternoon stage Friday."

That'’s all it says.And that'’s enough.

Yah! Yah!

Yah!

Whoa.

Here you are, sir.

Here'’s your bandit and his confederate.

And here'’s your gold.

When Mr. Barnes was in here testifying that day last summer,

he gave Chihuahua as a forwarding address.

Well, that was a darn fool thing to do.

So I decided to follow him there.

Why?

There was nothing to keep me here any longer.

I reached Chihuahua just as he and his partner

were preparing to go off into the mountains.

And who should his partner prove to be but our friend, Mr. Crothers.

A most delightful surprise.

They had quite a pack outfit.

Camp supplies, mining tools.

All they lacked was a cook,

and they managed to line one up the day before they left.

A Mexican by the name of Pancho.

He was a surly fellow, spoke almost no English,

but he could rustle grub, and that was all that mattered.

Until one day...

Why, you dirty, thieving son of a gun.

I'’ll teach you to keep your hands off our gold.

What'’s going on here?

This low-life greaser'’s been helping himself to our dust.

No, señor.I caught him at it inside the tent.

He had a sack of it right in his hand,

and he'’s gonna pay for it with his hide.

Don'’t be a fool. What are a few pinches of dust

compared with the gold we'’ve got?

And where are we gonna find ourselves another cook out here in these wilds?

Well, I don'’t like the fella, and I never have.

Won'’t be for much longer. A couple of more bars to grind up,

and we'’ll be on our way back to Frisco,

ready to live like princes.

You, Pancho, get a move on.

Si. Si, señor.

Rustle us grub.

So, that'’s how they worked it.

Took the bullion to Mexico and ground it up.

You got the story from Pancho?

I was Pancho.

You?

I suspected him from the beginning,

and you wouldn'’t let me horsewhip him.

Well, I'’ll be darned.

Once back in Chihuahua, we parted company.

We made our ways north separately-- I by land, and they by sea.

I got to San Francisco ahead of them, so I waited at Wells Fargo.

I knew it would only be a matter of time before they turned up

with their newly mined gold.

But I didn'’t think you'’d be so stupid

as to deposit the whole 6,000 ounces.

Almost exactly the amount of the stolen bars.

That was a coincidence, and we can prove it in court.

I can also prove I have a bona fide gold mine in Mexico.

You won'’t have a leg to stand on in court.

Not in the face of Mr. Burney'’s evidence.

He'’s got no evidence.

Oh, sure, he followed us to Chihuahua, all right.

Disguised himself like a little boy playing detective.

But he never laid eyes on any bars of bullion

because there weren'’t any there.

What we ground up we dug from the mine.

That'’s perfectly true.

I never did see any bars of bullion.

They were mighty smart about it.

Carried on the whole operation somewhere underground.

And then he has the nerve to arrest us.

We should be suing you for stealing,

helping yourself to our dust.

Only a few pinches.

"What are a few pinches?"

But I had to go through every ounce of gold dust

before I found what I wanted.

If you'’ll take a look at that through a magnifying glass,

what do you see, sir?

The insignia of the mill that shipped the bullion.

Exactly. Not complete,

but enough there to be unmistakable.

I was able to piece the bits of gold together.

Unfortunately for Barnes and Crothers,

they didn'’t grind it quite fine enough.

What did you want to do,

add murder to the charges already against you?

Take them out and lock them up.

Get his wound attended to.

That'’s twice he's been winged in the same shoulder.

It was a neat trick of Barnes, shooting him during the holdup to throw off suspicion.

You still haven'’t told us what made you suspicious.

It was a simple matter of arithmetic.

What do you mean?You remember Barnes telling us

about the redheaded man on horseback riding like the wind?Yes.

Saddlebags bulging? Presumably with bullion.

Ten bars of it, each bar weighing 50 pounds.

That'’s 500 pounds. Add to that the weight of the man.

Barnes and Crothers both agreed he weighed over 200.

And that horse would have been carrying a total of more than 700 pounds at a gallop.

An impossible feat.

Even walking, a horse can carry only about 250 pounds any distance.

Oh, Jim, how smart of you.

Then how did he tote the bullion off?

By wagon. I found the wheel tracks in the bushes

where he dragged the boxes from the road.

And you never told me this?

Well, I tried to, that last day.

You took a long chance, trailing those two down to Mexico.

One little slip on your part,

and your life wouldn'’t have been worth a dime.

Don'’t think I didn'’t know it.

May I see you back to your house?

Thank you.

Just a minute.

Your $10,000 reward. A nice little nest egg.

I can'’t accept that, sir. As a Wells Fargo employee--

You'’re not a Wells Fargo employee any longer because I fired you.

But as of tomorrow, you resume your duties here.

Yes, sir!

Thank you, sir.

Suppose I hadn'’t taken my gloves off that day

on the stage with Crothers.

Then he'’d have thrown out his own handkerchief as a signal.

Your glove gave him a wonderful opportunity

to use something that could never be traced to him.

And you never told my uncle about it?

No.I'’m glad.

But I kept it.Why?

So I'’d have something of yours to carry over my heart.

Oh, Jim darling.

OLD RANGER: All of which goes to show

there'’s no such thing as a perfect crime.

Somebody someday, in some way, catches up with the criminal.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]