Speaker 1: Across the rugged Indian Territory.
Speaker 2: Ride the tall young man on a mission of mercy,
his medical bag strapped on one hip, his six shooter
on the other. This is Doctor six Gun. A national
broadcasting company brings you another across the Rugged Indian Territory.
Ride the tall young man on a mission of mercy,
his medical bag strapped on one hip, his six.
Speaker 1: Shooter on the other. This is Doctor six Gun.
Speaker 2: A national broadcasting company brings you another episode in the
exciting adventures series.
Speaker 1: Doctor sex Gun Gray Madson, m D.
Speaker 2: Was the gun toting frontier doctor who wrong the length and.
Speaker 1: Breadth of the old Indian territory, friend.
Speaker 2: And physician to white man and Indian alike, the symbol
of justice and mercy in the lawless West of the.
Speaker 1: Eighteen seventies, This legendary figure was known to all as
Doctor sex Gun.
Speaker 3: Many poets have written of the beautiful and romantic signs
of the changing season, hauling lee, the dazzling snow, the
baffodils of spring. Well, here in the territory we have
our signs, but they are most often of a greamer,
unless a beautiful nature. The bloated bodies of cattle drowned
by spring floods, tongs blackened by thirst, in the summer drought,
the howling of the twisters coming up from Texas, and
in the fall, I am the sign of the season.
Speaker 1: And when I Pablo the gypsy peddler.
Speaker 3: Hay and this sees my friend, he's a raven about me,
he too is a sign all holland a drink.
Speaker 2: You see.
Speaker 3: Winter approaches, and I make my swing of the territory,
pushing into the tree forks country and the bad land settlements,
bringing a last chance to buy my estimable wares before
the snows and cold weather close the trails. Occasionally I
am joined on my annual circuit by my good friend
that six gone, a favor I do not usually return
when he is forced to repeat the journey in less
pleasant weathers. We were riding one evening looking for a
sheltered place to camp, when suddenly that horse shi hurt.
Speaker 1: Get my horse, four.
Speaker 3: Boy? Hey, what's the matter with you? Are you will
right doming broken? What's the matter with this crazy battlesnake.
Speaker 1: That I think I see it?
Speaker 2: Huh?
Speaker 3: Look behind that rock, that tree, Oh, come on.
Speaker 1: Fit to fight?
Speaker 3: The horses can't see it from the trail. He must
have smelled it had been the swinging back and forth.
All Come on, and there is a tree with a
bit of the crop. He's dead, all right, hang by
the neck? Why not the choice did they have?
Speaker 2: Give me your knife?
Speaker 3: Yes, it's stiff.
Speaker 1: Who is it?
Speaker 3: Oh?
Speaker 1: No, I did it clumsy? He strangled to death.
Speaker 2: An Indian light thing hard to tell, just wearing jeans
and a work shirt. It looks in you or a Mexican,
or just a fellow with a sharp nose and dark skin.
Speaker 3: Must have happened yesterday.
Speaker 1: There are many horse droppings here in the clearing.
Speaker 3: There were I would say a dozen horses.
Speaker 1: That's about the usual odds.
Speaker 3: What do you think happened?
Speaker 1: I know a man was murdered.
Speaker 2: Come on, there's a shovel in the pack.
Speaker 1: Give me another stone.
Speaker 3: That How long will three stones piled one on the
other left on this tree?
Speaker 1: You gotta do something. I think you ought to say
something what.
Speaker 2: I don't know what your words, which.
Speaker 3: Was we don't know who he was. A Mexican, would
be a Catholic or an Indian who is a worshiper
of the sun of the moon. That we caught him
down buried in Marty's grave.
Speaker 2: We have made that point. Maybe will to find out
who he was when we get the three points.
Speaker 1: Maybe we better get to sleep, ye why not?
Speaker 3: Of course, why not? And so we hobbled the horses
and built the fire and refilled our bottles at the
nearby spring. It was a still night with a touch
of rawness, and we sat by the fire with our
blankets around our shoulders.
Speaker 1: Lonely, isn't it? The trail is always lonely.
Speaker 2: No, I mean, look look those stones, and a day
they'll fall over. The next fell along the trail, built
his fire against him, and then kick him over in
the morning.
Speaker 1: That's the end of it. That death is the end
of it for everyone.
Speaker 3: What's the difference whether he's on the trail the three
forks are behind the white peaked fence in some town.
But when there's a gravestone and somebody knows where it
is who cared, and it doesn't seem so lonely.
Speaker 1: A dead man is a dead man.
Speaker 2: I suppose you're right.
Speaker 3: You think I get over the way I feel when
I see somebody dead.
Speaker 1: I've seen enough of them. Think a doctor for amps.
Speaker 3: That is the least though accepted.
Speaker 2: Maybe, well, we better get to sleep.
Speaker 3: And in the morning, when I awoke, Doc was standing
over the pile of stones.
Speaker 1: A parallel came here, waste a while, pile of plots
in my back? Oh, what is it?
Speaker 3: What is it? What?
Speaker 1: The bowl came by the stone? What's in it?
Speaker 2: I'm kind of corned?
Speaker 3: Me is here? When I woke up? What's the clay
bottle water? It was next to the bowl many tracks now,
but it'll be.
Speaker 1: Hard to tell him.
Speaker 3: It turned earth.
Speaker 1: We chatted it up and he could I didn't hear anything. Die,
you were wrong, Doc.
Speaker 3: Somebody who cares knows where the grave is, I guess,
so I wonder who it could.
Speaker 1: Still be, either Mexican or Indian.
Speaker 3: I've seen food left at gravestones on the other side
of the river in Texas, and the Apaches.
Speaker 1: Leave grave offerings.
Speaker 3: So do the pilots and the shawnees. In strange I
mean living food and water?
Speaker 1: Why stranger than flowers? They cannot enjoy fragrance either. Well,
we better get riding where they went to three forks.
This afternoon we rode into three forks. I'm a tropolist, consisting.
Speaker 3: Of a roll of sad huts, a few adobe buildings,
and one frame house that contained the post office. So
they are General's office, Sheriff's office, jail, and town hall.
Speaker 1: All in four rooms in an attic.
Speaker 3: Doc and I split up. I set up shop on
the tailgate of a wagon opposite the brown clay building
that house the saloon and dark set up chopped in
the jail, which was the queenest place he could find.
We met that evening in the canteen where the oil lamps,
the dirt track.
Speaker 1: Team from the street, and the customers.
Speaker 3: Combined to give the place definitely the atmosphere.
Speaker 2: You know, Pablo, every time I get into this place,
the boat runs alone. Back at Frenchman Flor looks more
and more like a palace.