One evening, shortly before sundown, the Lone Ranger and Tonto dismounted in a small, but timbered valley, through which gurgled a brook of cold, spring water. Even as they unsaddled their horses and prepared to make camp for the night, they saw the silvery flash of mountain trout breaking the surface of the rapid stream. A short time later, as dusk settled softly above them, Tonto squatted beside the campfire, with a large frying pan held over the coals. Because of the cracking sound made by the frying trout, his keen ears failed to hear the approach of footsteps, until the Lone Ranger said in a guarded voice "Someone's coming Tonto..."