The Valley seemed an eerie place, with only the soft clump of hoofs to break the deathlike stillness.

       The Lone Ranger and Tonto felt a foreboding of evil, something unexplainable in the air. Yet there was no sound. The horses, too, felt it. Though no command was given, they slowed their pace until they barely moved.

       A shaft of light struck down as the moon broke through the clouds for a moment. The Lone Ranger bolted upright, pulling on Silver's reins. The pale light reflected from the face of a man directly ahead and slightly above the Lone Ranger.

       It was a distorted face, with wide-staring eyes, and open mouth. A dead man!

       He was hanging from a branch above the trail. Another victim of the Night Legion...