The steady drives and constant ambushes had thinned the ranks of the band from thirty to twenty mares. The big stallion was ready to leave the tall-grass country. He jerked up his head and snorted shrilly, then he circled the herd at a fast trot. When he had gone once around it he halted and stood listening, rigid, his head up, his mane flowing in the wind. He heard a rock rattle from a trail above; then he saw a man. The man was on foot and he was toiling upward, a pack strapped on his back. He did not seem to be interested in the band of wild horses, but the wind carried a strong man smell to the meadow. The scent was rank with the odor of an old pipe.
The chestnut stallion laid back his ears and bared his teeth. With a shrill warning he lunged at the rump of the nearest mare. She whinnied with fright as she galloped away. The stallion drove the other mares into a thundering stampede. They charged across the meadow and into the timber, the colts bounding along at their mothers’ sides.
As soon as they were in deep cover the chestnut took the lead. He headed up a steep trail and did not stop until the band had reached a saddle in the snow range. Here he halted to let the mares and colts blow. The colts shouldered against their mothers, their pink noses and lips reaching under sweat-streaked flanks in search of milk. Their curly tails bobbed and jerked as they drank. The mares looked up at the snow peaks out of big, calm eyes. They were used to the sudden frenzied retreats of the big stallion, but they never became as excited as he, except when rifles spat and men raced shouting upon them.
After the rest spell the chestnut led the band down along a wooded ridge. He kept to deep cover so that an enemy posted on a peak or bare rim could not see the moving mares and colts. Toward midafternoon he halted the band in a little meadow to feed. The mares and colts began pulling the long grass eagerly. They were aware that the rest period might be short, and wanted to get their bellies filled as quickly as possible. They were right. The big stallion allowed time for but half a meal. He did not want them heavy and sleepy from overfeeding.
They moved down the mountain toward the deep, blue slash which was Shadow Canyon. The chestnut halted at the edge of a wide meadow. His protruding eyes had sighted a little cabin at the upper end of the meadow. He was about to lead his band back into the spruce when he saw a black mare standing with head up and ears pricked forward. He heard the blast of a whistler sounding a general alarm, and his ears flattened. The whistlers always annoyed him. He liked to move through the woods unnoticed and unheralded. But he remained at the edge of the timber watching the black mare, his nostrils twitching eagerly.
No one came out of the cabin. The stallion pawed and whinnied low. His call was answered by the black mare. There was eagerness in her whinny. The chestnut cast caution aside. Here was a sleek and slender mare he could add to his band. He trotted out into the meadow, neck arched, red mane floating in the wind.
Lady Ebony stood for a moment looking at the chestnut stallion, then she arched her neck and kicked her heels high. With a toss of her head she trotted toward him. They met in the center of the meadow with the mares watching out of calm, uninterested eyes. The mares fell to feeding while the colts bucked and bounced.
For a moment the noses of the two horses met, then the black mare whirled and lashed out at the stallion with her trim hoofs. He dodged and whinnied shrilly. Lady Ebony broke and ran down the meadow with the stallion thundering after her. He laid back his ears and charged with all his speed, but the flying black mare was faster. She pulled easily away from him and the sight of her slim body slipping away made the big stallion scream savagely. Never before had a mare been able to outrun him, to slip away from him with ease.
Seeing that she was leaving the big fellow behind, Lady Ebony whirled and halted, her front feet on a little hummock of grass. She waited until he was almost upon her, then she dodged past him and raced toward the mares. Again she outran him easily.
The chestnut was filled with a wild desire to drive this fleet mare into his band and lead her away. He swerved and charged. She dodged and leaped past him. Lady Ebony was not trying to escape, she was giving play to the pulsing life within her. The coming of the chestnut stallion was something she had expected. She had been restless and nervous; now that restlessness was gone and she was filled with surging energy.