In a moment you'll hear James Stewart as the six-shooter. Just one of the many fine programs brought to you Sundays on NBC. Later this evening listen to the NBC Star Playhouse with one of your favorite stars. Here meet the press, America's number one newsmaking program, and be sure to keep tuned for the dramatic story of communism in America on Last Man Out. It's a wonderful lineup of great programs, all of them heard only on NBC. James Stewart as the six-shooter. The man in the saddle is angular and long-legged. His skin is sun-died brown. The gun in his holster is grey steel and rainbow mother of pearl. It's handle unmarked. People call them both. The six-shooter. The NBC radio network presents James Stewart as the six-shooter. A transcribed series of radio dramas based on the life of Britt Ponsett. The Texas Plainsmen who wandered through the western territories, leaving behind a trail of still-remembered legends. The fire had almost gone out and the evening chill crept through the chinks and the rough-hewn logs of the cabin walls. But the man standing at the window made no attempt to stir the embers into flame. Instead, he stared at the graying sky and the purple hills, his eyes constantly narrowing as they tried to penetrate the lengthening shadows. The noise at the door behind him caused the man to spin around. His gun's hovered in midair. Who's there? Me, Wilbur. They're coming, Floyd. I've seen them from the top of the ridge. How many? Fifteen. Maybe more. It's pretty dark, but 15 anyway. That ought to be enough. Yeah.   I couldn't leave you here alone, Floyd. We've been together too long. I ain't given up. No matter how many there are, I ain't given up. Sure, sure. That's what I figured. You figured I'd fight it out and you'd come back anyhow? Back, ain't it? Yeah. Here. Load them for me. Huh? My guns. Load them. What a...Floyd! You got bullets, ain't you? Oh, sure. Yeah.  Never thought I'd see the day when Floyd Winters would take off his guns and hand them to another man. What makes you so trusty all of a sudden? I've found out who I can trust. Found it out tonight. You didn't run off with the rest. If Russ was here, nobody would have run off. Maybe. But Russ ain't here. Go on, Wilbur. Load them for me. Floyd Winters handed the gun belt to his friend, turned and glanced out of the window. Wilbur English lifted one of the revolvers from its holster and checked the cylinder. There were two bullets inside. He raised the gun and pointed it at the other man's back. He calmly squeezed the trigger twice. The man at the window fell forward, shattering the glass. I'd spotted the campfire all...maybe about 15 minutes back just before the trail swung down from Yellow Mesa into the canyon. I should have come on by now. I'm pretty sure it was somewhere around along here. But all I could see was just pitch black in every direction. Easy boy. Easy. Whoa. Well, maybe it's just been my imagination. Oh, no. I've gone at that smoke all night. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slipped out of the saddle and moseyed around for a minute or two. Oh, then I felt something warm through the tomb of Boote. It was not just warm either. It was... Oh, man. Well, that fire hadn't been out very long. Somebody had just finished burying it under a pile of dirt and sand. So I walked... Get him up, Russ. Hi. Hi, I said. Nothing. You ought to know that. Okay. But there's just one thing... Don't turn around. Don't try to have infancy, neither. Are you alone? Yeah. Yeah, I'm alone. Well, I wasn't very smart, Russ. Now, look, mister, I don't happen to be Russ, whoever he is. Well, you think I don't recognize you? You think I don't know you've been after me ever since it happened? No, all I'm saying is... Out there in the dark, I felt you coming closer and closer. So I built this here fire and waited, just before you got here. Figured you'd get curious and stop. Figured I'd have the draw on you. Just listen to me.   You should have realized that. You should have realized that anybody else would be easy. After Floyd, and even you, Russ, you're going to be easy. Well, I never have believed in trying to get off a shot when another man has the draw, and the way things were going, it looked like I had to risk it. I just didn't seem to be any way of reasoning with him and making him understand who I was. I... I heard him take another step. I went down on one knee and twisted around, grabbed my gun. It shot just skimmed across the part in my hair. Now, it looked like I'd managed to do a little better in that. I heard his gun skid out of his hand and he went over backwards. He didn't fall, though. He just sat down with a thud, and he stayed that way, sitting there on a heap, just staring at the ground. I picked up his gun, moved in closer. It was pretty dark, but I could make out a little, uh, short, clumpish, with a kind of a white face. He kept his eyes down, as if he couldn't raise his head, as if he just didn't want to bring himself to look at me. Go on, Rusky.  Don't make me wait. Don't make me beg. No one do no good. Whatever I said, whatever I told you, wouldn't do no good. Please, Rod. Please get it over with. I was quick with Floyd. He never knew a thing. Never knew what he was. I swear it up. Don't just keep me sitting here waiting. Don't do that. You better tie something around that hand. What?  Who are you? Pete? Here it ain't Rus. I tried to tell you that before. I thought from where you were standing. You look just a little bit. I don't know. I was certain. I don't see how I could have been wrong. Well, you sure were, mister. You must still be around here somewhere. You must still be following me. I've been on this trail all day. I haven't seen a single soul but you. You ain't lying to me. Why should I lie to you? I didn't mean that. Don't pay no attention to me. I'm kind of upset. Go on. Do something about that hand. Sure. Pete, it ain't hurt bad. The bullet went through a fatty part. Mm-hmm. Well, the next time you try to shoot somebody you might find out who it is. Oh, I'm awful sorry. I'll be more careful. My name's Jones Warren Jones. Is that so? What's yours, mister? Ponset. Six-shooter? Some folks say that. My name's Ponset. I sure am glad to meet you, Mr. Ponset. The Jones, you said? Yeah, that's right. Not English. Not Wilbur English. What are you talking about? I thought maybe you made another mistake tonight. Another one? Well, you were wrong about who I was. Are you sure you're not wrong about who you are too? Well, I guess it don't do me no good to lie to you. Yeah, you're right. My name is English. Mm-hmm. Have you met up before? No, but I've heard about you. Oh? Yeah, and about how you killed Floyd Winters a couple weeks ago. I've heard about that. Oh. Well, news, uh, sure does travel, don't it? Some news does, yeah. You didn't know I was in these here parts, did you? You hadn't heard. I was heading this way. What? Well, you seem to be certain about who I was. Maybe you were expecting to run into me. No, you weren't very hard to figure out, English.  Oh, well, no. Listen, Mr. Ponsett, you won't tell anybody that we met up for... You won't tell them where I am. No, no. You know he's looking for me, don't you? You know he swore and killed me. You mean Russ Winters? For sure, that's who I mean. I thought folks would all be on my side now. They'd be grateful for what I'd done. Been trying to catch Floyd for years. I saved him the trouble. That's true. That's true enough.  They act like he was some kind of a hero. Well, Floyd Winters wasn't any kind of a hero. Sure go along with that. Well, and why is everybody against me? Why don't they capture us? Oh, I expect they will before long. When, after he's murdered me, oh... Don't they realize that he's just as bad as I thought he was? They were two of a kind.  I never denied that. But I wasn't mean like Floyd and Russ. Oh, I guess I did my share of harm. I rode with him on plenty of hold-ups. But I never killed nobody. All the time I was with the Winters' brothers, I never killed nobody. Except Floyd. You killed him. Well, it was different. He was an outlaw, wasn't he? Had it come to him. Had it come to him, I was saving their lives. And earning yourself a reward on a pardon at the same time, huh? I wasn't thinking of that. I wasn't thinking of myself.  No, sir. What good did it do me anyhow? Russes hunting me down and folks say that he's right. They say that I'm a coward, that I shouldn't have shot Floyd in the back. Well, it's easy enough to talk brave. They didn't know him, but I did.  There wasn't any other way. There's kind of a convenient killing, too, wasn't it? With the posse outside ready to take your bones? Just like all the others, aren't you, Ponsett? You make a big thing out of law and order, but it's got to be done just so. It don't matter how many men Floyd Winter's murdered in cold blood. Just because he was shot in the back, you feel sorry for him. You hold it against me. Now, look here. I don't feel sorry for Winter's or anything that happened to him. And I'm not going to spend half the night arguing about it, either. Now, here's your gun.  So long.  What are you talking about? You said your hand wasn't hurt bad. You've got a horse, haven't you? Oh, sure, sure. I've got a horse. He's over there in those trees, but... But what? Well, I told you that Russ is after me. If he catches me alone, he'll kill me for sure. Well, you don't even know he's in the neighborhood. You don't know that he is, and why can't I ride along with you, Ponsett? You're heading towards single pine, aren't you? Yeah. Well, Russ wouldn't try anything if you were with him. No.  Maybe you think that it's what I deserve. Now, hold on. Hold on, huh? Even if folks don't exactly approve of what you did to Floyd, the way you did it, I mean. Well, nobody feels that Russ has got any right to revamp.  What do you figure to do there? Well, I got to meet up with Chef Preston. He's leaving for Cheyenne tomorrow. I'm delivering to the prisoner. Ponsett, take me along with him. That's where my pardon's waiting in Cheyenne. Let me reward money. I see. I'm entitled to it, ain't I? Yeah. Yeah, I guess you've earned it, all right. Chef Preston, give me his word. He said he'll see to it that I get to Cheyenne okay. Mm-hmm. Well, Mike Preston's a good man. I haven't got anything to worry about that. Oh, yeah, but I got to make it to single pine first, Ponsett. I got to make it that far on my own. Mm-hmm. Well, what do you say? All right, English. Get your harsh. We'll return to James Stewart as the sick shooter in just a moment. It's a strange quirk of human nature, but most of us never think except in the most abstract way of an accident ever happening to us. It's always the other fellow who's involved. But nevertheless, accidents go right on happening at a never-increasing alarming rate, and it can't always happen. Only to the other fellow. For instance, one out of five families will have a traffic accident this year. Think of that. And how can you be sure you won't be that one? Well, there's one way of piling up some percentages in your favor. A few simple precautions will guarantee better accident odds for your family. For one thing, remember, it's not always easy to stop quickly in wet weather. Drive so that you can stop when and if you want to. And always drive with a clean, clear windshield. There are a great many safety precautions, and for the most part, it's simply a matter of applying common sense to driving. Just remember to drive as if your life depended on it. Because it does. Act two of the sick shooter, starring James Stewart as Britt Ponsett. Well, we rode on through most of the night. Wilbur English and me. Well, about eleven o'clock we stopped to rest, but Wilbur was a dog gone nervous and skittery. I just couldn't get any sleep, so we started off again. Must have been about noon when we finally hit single pine. Main street, one very crowded, a couple of wagons, two or three ladies in the mercantile, old Judge Hendricks sunning himself in front of the livery sale. Everything seemed pretty normal. Just about what you'd expect on a Tuesday. But that didn't keep Wilbur from looking back over his shoulder every once in a while like he thought somebody was a bullet in the nape of his neck.  Wilbur. Wilbur. Well, there we are. Yeah. Thank you, Ponsett. Enough to thank me for I didn't do anything. Well, you never know what might have happened if you had... What's the matter, Andy? A fellow standing there in the shade bus beside that store. What about him? Make him out of that, not real clear. He does sort of look like... Like Russ. He looks a whole lot more like Ben Fletcher. That happens to be his hardware store he's leaning up against to. Oh. Come on, let's get inside. Look at it. It sounds like he's asleep. There's a fine way for a sheriff to be acting. Suppose that had been Russ Winters out there just now. Well, it wasn't. And this isn't Sheriff Preston either. What? There's still water. Hey, Phil. Hey, come on. Come on, wake up, Phil. What are you doing out here? Well, a man has come into town every once in a while. Looks like you're taking pretty easy, Phil. The baby's got the colic. Didn't get a wink of sleep all night long. Is that so? I hope it's nothing serious. No, no, no. Doc says it'll be all right in a couple of days. Well, you just missed him, Britt. Oh. Okay, let by an hour ago, I'm holding down the fortly. He comes back. You mean the sheriff's already gone to Cheyenne? You heard me? He's gone? No, no. He had to take some men over toward Red Rock. He's putting off his trip to Cheyenne for a day or so. He's putting it off? Yeah, that's what he said. Well, what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for him? The sheriff of Gallivant and somewhere? Who's going to protect me? No, mister. This is Wilbur English, Phil. Oh. Well, the sheriff promised that he'd see that I got to Cheyenne. He promised he'd take me with him. Well, he can't take you till he goes himself. But he left word he was expecting you.  I might have known that he'd pull a stunt like this. Wait, what are you talking about?  That's what I'm talking about.  They all think I got it coming. The sheriff Preston picked today to leave town, so that he'll be out of the way if Russ shows up, so he won't have to do nothing towards stopping him. That's what? If Mike Preston said he'll take you to Cheyenne, he'll take you there. He ain't never going back on his word yet. Not even with a murder and outlaw. I forgot you ain't an outlaw anymore. Just a public-spirited citizen. All right, Mr. Public-Spirited Citizen, you get yourself over to that hotel across the street and you stay there. When Mike comes back, I'll tell him where he are. Well, what are you waiting for? Well, when Thunder did happen to come to town with him. Oh, we met up accidentally last night. He seemed kind of anxious for company. Ah. Funny, ain't it? The way you feel about a man like that. Mm-hmm. Well, getting rid of Floyd Winters was a blessing. Ain't no doubt about it. And I guess we all owe English something for killing him. He hadn't done it when he did and nobody knows how many other men would have been shot. Yeah, yeah, that's true. Yeah, but somehow, well, in spite of all that, it's pretty hard to like English very much, ain't it? Yeah, it seems like it's darn near impossible, doesn't it, Phil? Well, I had something to eat over at Molly Davis' cafe and then I did my errands. Got myself a new pair of boots and a haircut. Well, I... Well, I... I almost fell asleep sitting in a barber's chair. I guess that was to be expected seeing as how I was doing. I guess that was to be expected seeing as how I didn't get much rest the night before. And the idea of taking a little siesta sort of crossed my mind.  Well, I went over to the hotel and rented myself a room. And... I was planning to stay in town overnight anyhow, so I figured it might as well get my money's worth out of the bed I was paying for, after all this cost me 50 cents. Must've been about all 4.15 when I heard somebody poundin' at the door. Yeah. Yeah, well... It's me, Wilbur. Oh, all right. Come on in. He's here. He's in Single Pine. What are you talkin' about? Didn't you hear what I said Russ Winters is here in Single Pine right now? He's here this afternoon. No, no, take it easy, English. You got to help me get away, Ponson. You got to. You imagined you saw him a couple of times before. Do you remember that? Well, that ain't my imagination. Go on. Go on, read it. You don't have much longer to wait, Russ. Well... Well, where'd it come from anyway? He shoved it under the door to my room. Did you see him? I didn't have to see him. Well, I'd say if Russ Winters was in town and knew where you were staying, he wouldn't waste any time sending you notes. It's just what he'd do, Ponson. There's nothing better. Maybe so, maybe so. Share it back in. I don't know, and I'm not waiting around to find out. There's a train for Cheyenne at 430. I'm taking it. I thought that Sheriff Preston said you were to sit tight. Oh, sure. Sit tight and be murdered. You seen that message? Seen it with your own eyes? You don't expect me to stick around here after that? If I was in your place... But you're not in my place, Ponson. That's so I'm not. But you got to do something for me. Oh. Make sure I get aboard that train, all right? It ain't much to ask, is it? It depends on whether Russ Winters really in town or not.  He won't take a chance until he's sure killed me. I still think you're making a mistake. I think you ought to stick around until Sheriff comes back. I don't care what you think. Okay, English, go ahead. I'll keep an eye on you. Well? Well, come on. What for? The depot's right across the street. I've got a front window here. I wouldn't have any trouble watching you from here. Well, the train pulled in right on time. 4.30. I saw Wilbur English climb aboard. As far as I could tell, he was the only passenger getting on the single pine. I looked up and down the street. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him one way or the other. I figured that would be about the last we'd see of him. As soon as he collected his reward money, he probably had East. Back there, he could stay out of Russ Winter's way. And Russ would probably be captured sooner or later, just question of time. The only thing that puzzled me was that note English had found. I thought maybe I ought to tell Phil Waterman about it, so I walked over to the Sheriff's office. I might have known it. So that's what they were up to, those little devils. How's that? It's the McPherson kids. I went over to the hotel to see if English got a room all right. He was sort of my responsibility as long as Mike was out of town. Yeah, sure. Just as I got to the top of the stairs, I saw Sandy McPherson's two boys standing outside English's room. They ran off just as soon as I spotted them, so I figured they'd been doing something they shouldn't. Oh. You think it was a couple of kids put that note under the door? Must have been. Oh, I'm sorry. In town, maybe even recognize them going into the hotel. Yeah. I guess they thought they'd give them a little scare. You know, English isn't very popular even with the kids, bro. Oh, yeah, I know that. They made up a song about him and how he killed Floyd Winters. Is that so? First thing you know, folks will be forgetting that Winters was an outlaw and a murderer. You'll just remember that he was shot in the back by one of his own men. And they'll say that that was wrong. And they'll feel sorry for him. And they'll have Wilbur English to thank for that, too. Maybe that's why I ain't so sure he done us any favors. No matter how you look at it. Isn't that Mike pulling up over there? Yeah. He must have been doing some fast traveling. Look at the fume on that Pinto's flanks. I wonder how he made it. Oh, Mike. Howdy, Britt. Britt, what are you doing here? I was passing the time of day. Everything all right, Sheriff? Yeah, it's pretty good, Phil. Pretty good. I thought we were going to get Russ Winters this afternoon, but he slipped through our fingers again. You mean Russ was really in the neighborhood here? Well, not exactly, Britt. Not exactly. Close as he got was about 15 miles east. I heard he was heading our way, though, so I took some of the boys out to see if we couldn't bring him in. We picked up his trail, too, and we were gaining on him, but he hightailed it into Red Rock and grabbed the train, just as it was about to pull out. A deeper agent remembered him, description and all. I telegraphed ahead. They'll be waiting for him in Cheyenne when he gets there. He took the Cheyenne train? Union Pacific Express. You know, Britt, one leaves here at 4.30. Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah, I know. Well, they arrested Russ Winters in Cheyenne, all right? Didn't even try to get away. But Wilbur English? Wilbur never got there. The passenger said it happened just after Russ got aboard at Red Rock. Wilbur took one look at him and started running through the cars, and when he got to the back platform, well, he just didn't stop. And he fell 75, 80 feet right straight down the side of the rebate, and he didn't have a chance. The funny thing was that the folks who saw them, they said that Russ Winters hadn't made a move toward him. Not a move. If a neighbor in distress came to your door, would you help him? Of course you would. But not everyone who needs help can come to you personally. It may be a flood victim in Ohio, the victim of an earthquake in California, of a hurricane in Texas.  Disaster can strike in many places and for as many reasons. And when it does strike, even though you might not be there to help in person, you can help through your Red Cross. That's why the Red Cross volunteer calls on you. He calls in the name of the helpless and injured, of the little girl who needs blood to save her life, of the serviceman who must fly to the bedside of his dangerously ill parent or child. When you join the Red Cross, you help them all wherever they may be, just as surely as if you had extended a helping hand in person. So when the Red Cross volunteer comes to your door, meet him with a smile and answer the call. Join and serve. And wear your Red Cross button proudly. It means that in any emergency, in any disaster, you are there serving humanity. The Sick 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 Frank Gerstle as Floyd Winters. Herb Vigran as Phil Waterman. Barney Phillips as Mike Preston. And Paul Richards as Wilbur English. Special music for this program was by Basil Adlam, and 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. By the way, you'll be interested in knowing, the Sick Shooter has been chosen for broadcast to our men overseas through the facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Services. This is John Wall speaking. Listen to Jan Murray in Sunday at home on the NBC Radio Network.


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