Rain lashed the roof of the old cabin in which the Lone Ranger and Tonto had taken refuge, just before a stormy night closed over the mountains. Serpent tongues of lightning forked out of the ink-black sky, and thunder cannonaded through the nearby peaks. Inside the cabin it was warm and light. Logs burned in the crumbling fireplace and a candle burned on a makeshift table. As the Indian prepared a meal, the masked man inspected a placard that was tacked to the wall, that indicated the cabin belonged to a nearby mining company.