NARRATOR". The Gotham City 100...
racingdom's most exciting spectacle, is half over.
Four hundred thousand people...
have jammed into the Gotham City Speedway to witness the proceedings.
At this point, Grimaldi Smith...
dean of America's drivers...
holds a comfortable six-minute lead over his international competition.
Make one false move...
you got another mouth where your nose used to be.
Keep the grubby hands towards the sky, fellas.
All right, let's burn the breeze and hightail it out of here.
Who was that man?
I'm not quite sure, but he left this platinum bullet.
Platinum bullet? Only one man uses a platinum bullet.
You mean...?
No doubt about it, Chief O'Hara.
Shame has come back to taunt us with his Western wiliness. Ha.
What a frightening felony, rustling the most expensive automobile in racing.
You heard about the other robberies?
The hot rod and the go-cart? Yes, I know about them.
However, they were simple car thefts...
so handled easy enough by our department. But this? Ha, ha.
This sheds an entirely new light on the affair.
You think Shame stole them too?
No doubt about it.
Only one man would have the unmitigated gall...
to pilfer an automobile and have it witnessed by more than 800,000 eyes.
- What do we do now, commissioner? - What do we do?
What can we do?
You know as well as I that this can only be handled...
by one far wiser than we.
And in stately Wayne Manor...
Bruce, that's wonderful, so exciting.
The trick is to make the cars go slow so they don't fall off the track on the curves.
It's child's play once you get the hang of it.
I guess I still haven't gotten it. That's three in a row you've beaten me.
Makes no difference if you win or lose. It's how you play the game.
It's easier to say that when you win.
- Ahem, sir? - Yes, Alfred.
You have an appointment with a Mr. Red Amici, sir.
- Man from the phone company? - One and the same, Master Dick.
- Golly. - Can't keep him waiting, can we?
- No, sir. - Why don't you try it, Aunt Harriet?
Now, what was it he said about not falling off the track?
- Yes, commissioner? - There were three auto thefts...
in Gotham City today.
That should be simple enough for your fine force.
It would be, except that all clues point to the redoubtable road agent.
The bloodthirsty bushwhacker.
Shame himself.
We'll be right there.
To the Batpoles.
The nerve of some of these criminals never ceases to astound me, Batman.
Shame never was one for modesty.
All of his crimes have a certain flair, a certain bravado.
Not unlike the Western criminals of yesteryear.
And you say those three stray cars were rounded up?
That's right, Caped Crimebuster...
but there's something downright devilish about the whole thing.
What is that, Chief O'Hara?
Well, instead of rustling the entire car, he took just one item from each of them...
then abandoned the rest of the automobile.
Holy jigsaw puzzles.
He purloined the 28-barrel carburetor from Grimaldi Smith's racer.
Some custom-made alloy pistons from the engine of the go-cart.
And some milled heads from a hot rod.
Why would anyone just steal bits and pieces of cars rather than one entire auto?
That is the question.
And he left this platinum bullet behind.
Platinum is not easy to come by these days.
Perhaps we can trace it on our Precious Metals Bat-Analyzer.
Let's go, Robin. We've nary a second to lose. Vamonos.
Right, amigo.
- Feel better, O'Hara? - Much.
Ha-ha-ha. So do I.
NARRATOR". Meanwhile, in Westernland...
a deserted and bankrupt movie studio on the edge of Gotham City...
Shame has another ax to grind.
Good.
When I lay my paws on Batman and Robin...
I'm gonna crease their skulls so hard with this...
they'll be known as the Dynamic Foursome.
Good idea.
I'm gonna pour me three fingers of this here tonsil varnish.
I reckon that's why they call me Messy James, huh?
Okie Annie, quit pounding your fingers and get over here.
Shame, how much longer you reckon before this here truck's ready to roam in the range?
Soon enough, dumpling.
Just as soon as I get the rest of the making for that there motor.
And when I do, this here truck's gonna go 300 miles per...
- Day? - Hour!
Last time I was in Gotham City, that goldarn Batmobile...
followed me all over, finally cut me off at a concrete pass.
Caused me to spend quite a spell up the river.
Well, I don't aim to have that happen no more.
Shame, honey...
it ain't so much the car, it's the fellas what drive it.
Good.
If all goes well, them two will be pushing up daisies pretty soon.
But just in case they ain't, I want that there truck...
to make that there Batmobile look like a turtle with arthritis.
When you've got plans as big as mine, baby“.
You gotta cover all the angles.
And the biggest angle of all...
is a clean, quick getaway.
Hey, someone's a-coming!
Get away.
Howdy, barkeep.
My handle's Andy Stevens.
Perhaps you've heard of me, the Pecos Kid?
I got 12 notches on my gun...
and they ain't there because I like whittling.
If you get what I mean.
Let me have some of your best red eye and leave the bottle.
Yes, sir.
Mommy!
Just as I suspected, Robin.
An ordinary lead bullet coated with platinum paint.
It's no help at all.
Let's try another tack.
Shame has stolen a carburetor, pistons and milled heads.
- Now, what does that suggest to you, Robin? - He's building an engine.
Why go to all this trouble when it's less dangerous to buy one?
Why, indeed, Robin.
However, these are not ordinary automotive components.
They're highly sophisticated...
not readily available at your local garage.
- No. There's a method to his misdemeanors. - I've got it.
He wants to enter in the Gotham City Grand Prix next month...
for the $100,000 prize.
Good thinking, old chum.
Now, if you were building a super engine, what else would you need?
- A special camshaft and valve lifters. - Precisely.
I think this calls for a clever ruse.
Such as?
Hot Rod Harry, dean of Gotham City's disc jockeys...
the man who knows all there is to know about cars.
Please, get me radio station KGC.
Yes, siree, baby. We play the pick of the pack...
the best in wax and shellac...
for all you guys and gals out there in radioland.
Let's move right along now with a tune that was written this morning...
and already it's number three. Do you hear me?
On the KGC survey here in Gotham City's ville.
It's "Desert Sands" by Lawrence and the Arabians.
Hot Rod Harry, your musical maestro.
- Hello, Harry, this is Bruce Wayne. - Hi, Brucey, baby.
Hey, you're the fellow that endowed the drag strip in the suburbs.
Keep the kids off the streets.
That's right, Harry. Could you do me a small favor?
A radio announcement.
Cool daddy. Ha, ha. And that's from the guy who's saying yes...
who makes the top decisions and plays the tops and pops.
And also some of the old-time tunes...
right here on KGC, number one radio in Gotham City.
Say, that's right good, Mr. Shame...
but how come you only use one gun while the rest of your friends have two?
A fella only needs one gun, Andy, if he knows how to use it proper.
Golly, you're pretty handy with that peacemaker, mighty fast.
Well, partner, a fella had to be handy with a six-gun where I came from.
Boot Hill was filled with fellas who pull the trigger before they took aim.
Many a buckaroo took the long jump...
because he had a case of slow.
Hey, all you chicks and chucks out there.
You all remember Brucey Wayne, the cat came up with the scratch for the drag strip?
Well, he just had his limousine all revamped.
That's what I said, had the man put on a hand-made camshaft...
and some special imported new valve lifters. Now, that's real class.
He'll be showing the car next week at the auto show.
So all you Johns and Janes kind of fall by, huh?
I hear it makes that car go 298 miles an hour. Wow!
Hey, that's what we need to finish off that there stallion.
- What now, boss? - Okie Annie...
you gotta bushwhack this here Wayne fellow...
and get his cayuse. - Do tell.
Little Shorthorn, we're gonna have to hit the trail now.
I'm gonna borrow that radio from you because I gotta hear that disc jockey fella...
and get some more of them hot rod tips.
All right, amigos. Let's go.
Hey, wait a minute! Come back, Shame!
Come back, Shame!
Shame, come back!
Boy, I sure hope Shame bites the bait.
Bait, Master Dick?
I'm hoping the house is being watched this very moment.
Expect to be held up within the hour.
My word, isn't that rather dangerous, sir?
It's our only hope of catching Shame.
All other clues have been exhausted. Let's go, Dick.
There they go.
We'll follow and then strike while the branding iron is still hot.
You gonna kill them, boss?
Only if they give me any backwash.
One millionaire more or less ain't gonna be missed by nobody.
Gosh, Bruce, uh, I've never been in a place like this before.
Maybe we should have checked Aunt Harriet's shopping list closely before we volunteered.
- What do you think we should do? - Press on.
May I help you?
Yes, we're looking for something in, uh...
Uh, eh... Uh, something in lingerie.
I see. Exactly what sort of lingerie?
Well, it's, um... I... I think one would... How would you say it, Dick?
Well, it's like... It's...
He wants a full slip, size 38, white and washable.
Yes.
Well, thank you, Miss...?
- Okie Annie. - Miss Annie.
Aren't you millionaire, Bruce Wayne?
And aren't you his youthful ward, Dick Grayson?
How did you know?
Well, I've seen your picture in the paper a whole passel of times.
And I could use your help.
Turnabout is fair play. What do you need?
My car is down in the parking lot just plumb tuckered out...
and I'm down to my last chip. - Mm-hm.
- Do you need some money? - No. No, just a lift over to Pointview Street.
I mean, I couldn't ask just anyone, but I reckon on account of you're so trustworthy...
because of the nice things I read in the paper about what your foundation does.
We can arrange that, can't we, Dick?
- We sure can. - I could kiss you for that.
Oh, here, hold this. Come on, let's go. Ha!
Good.
So, boss. Come on, bossy. Come on.
What's a nice cow like you doing in a place like this?
- Unh. - Reach.
- So this was all a trick. - You bet your boots.
Now, you keep your hands raised, don't fuss an inch...
you might live a while longer, get it?
- Got it. - Good.
All right, let's split.
Why didn't we try to stop them?
They did exactly as I'd hoped.
- But now we're stuck here. - Watch.
I had the remote control unit keep the Batcycle at a safe distance.
It's been following us all the time.
Amazing, but what if someone sees us on the Batcycle?
We're a mile away from the entrance to the Batcave.
Allow me, sir. Thank you.
And I know a circuitous route over a deserted path.
- There you are, Alfred, the Alf-cycle. - Thank you, sir.
Good bye.
I took the precaution of coating the limousine's tires...
with an Infrared Bat Dust which glows by day as well as by dark.
But you must look at it through the Batmobile's specially tinted windshield.
Let's go. To the Batcave.
Good.
There. That about does it.
You still think this will haul all that weight and still outrace the Batmobile?
This thing will be doing 100 while that thing's still in first gear.
Besides, it don't make no difference.
Batman and Robin won't know where we are or where to find us.
Them two is long gone over the hill.
- Don't that beat all? - Look out, Batmobile!
Here comes the hay burner!
The best laid plans of mice and men aft gang agley.
- Who's that? - You'd better come quietly, Shame.
Let's drill him, boss.
Holster your hardware, fellas.
Wouldn't want no stray bullets hitting this here truck after all this work.
And all that money facing us.
We ain't got a chance against the Dynamic Duo.
Leastwise not without guns.
Talking to you is like talking pig latin to a donkey.
We got them outnumbered.
Three and a half-to-two.
Now, let's hang up their hides.
- Mr. Shame? - Yeah? What do you want, Andy?
- My radio. - Well, you beat it, beat it.
Is that Batman and Robin on the floor?
Yeah, what about it?
Did you hurt them?
No, I didn't hurt them. Now, come on, Mr. Pecos Kid. We...
We're just doing a little show here for the TV.
We're just doing a little playacting. Now, come on.
But where are the cameras?
It's hidden, it won't be in the way like you are. Come on, go.
- Skedaddle. Come on. - Okay.
Could've fooled me.
Good.
Looks like we got them by the cape, buckaroos.
Now nothing's gonna stand in our way.
- You gonna shoot them in cold blood, Shame? - No, that wouldn't be sport.
- So, what you gonna do? - Got a little plan.
I'll bet you are probably wondering what all this is for.
That thought did cross my mind.
Pretty soon I'm gonna shoot this trusty six-shooter of mine...
and when I do, a herd of cattle is gonna come stomping this way...
in a mighty big hurry.
Holy stampede!
Now, those cows don't stop coming for no man.
Not even you, Bat Fella.
And when they get through stomping...
there ain't gonna be enough of you left to put in a thimble.
Shame on you, Shame.
Watch your tongue.
Hasta la vista, partners.
I'll tell everybody you died with your Bat Boots on.