The two spent most of the forenoon making plans and preparations. The masked man's wounds still bothered him, but he felt equal to a long ride and he was eager to get started on his investigation. He wore the mask continually, so it would become a familiar part of him, and not something strange that hampered his movements. After their noon meal the two were ready, with their duffle loaded on the backs of Scout and Silver. The white horse seemed eager to be in action once again with his master in the saddle. He whinnied jubilantly when the cinch was pulled tight, and his great strength showed in every rippling muscle beneath his snow white coat. Tonto mounted Scout, then waited. The Lone Ranger placed one foot in the stirrup and shouted, "Hi-Yo Silver!" The big horse lunged ahead. "Away-y-y," the ringing, clear voice cried as the masked man settled in the saddle. Silver was a white flame leaping ahead, with silky mane and tail blown straight out by the wind, like the plumes of a knight in white armor. Sharp hoofs hammered on the hard rocks in a tattoo that thrilled like rolling drums. Silver had his master in the saddle, Tonto close behind him. The master's voice rang out again to echo both ways in the canyon, "Hi-Yo Silver, Away-y-y-y." Tonto, watching from his saddle close behind the mighty Silver, whispered, "Now Lone Ranger ride." A stretch of flat tableland extended for several miles between the rim of the Gap and the foot of Thunder Mountain. After the first thrilling dash, the Lone Ranger slowed Silver to let Tonto take the lead and set the route. The Indian knew exactly where to go to reach the mountain's top without passing through the Basin. The masked man was not strong enough for great activity, but Tonto anticipated none for the time being. The purpose of this trip was merely one of observation. The Indian intended to point out cattle trails he'd seen, and study them. In so doing he and the Lone Ranger would get further away from the danger of the cave's proximity to the Basin killers. Tonto felt sure that the ride wouldn't overtax the masked man. He knew his white friend was perfectly at home in the big saddle and perhaps far more comfortable than he'd be chafing with inactivity in the cave. After an hour or so of riding, the ground became more rocky and difficult. Just ahead the mountain rose majestically. Thunder Mountain didn't divulge her secret dangers. At first the ground sloped only gently upward, with an occasional large tree that gave soft shade. Like a seductress in green, the mountain lured the stranger on with promises of things that were ahead. The trees became more frequent; then larger trees with tangled vines in close embrace made travel harder. As the climb became steeper, leafy discards which had rotted to soft loam gave birth to rank weeds.