Riding easily, almost a part of the great white horse whose silver hooves burned the sand, the Lone Ranger headed along the trail in the direction of the Badlands. Calm eyes, cool, confident and daring, watched the vast stretch of eastern prairie on either side. Tonto and Scout followed close behind him. Suddenly, the masked man raised his hand, and they stopped to look at some birds wheeling in the sky, a sure sign that they were waiting for something or someone to die...