One day Midnight heard sounds which excited him greatly. They came from the mesa above. He heard the pounding of many hoofs and above the nickering and snorting of mares rose the squeal of a stallion challenging the world defiantly. Midnight was resting in the shade of the aspen grove after a wild run around the meadow. He dashed out into the open and stood staring at the top of the canyon wall.
As he stood there a horse appeared. A pinto filly stood with lowered head looking down into the canyon. She was a trim little mare with a lithe, slender body and a yellow mane and tail which flowed in the breeze. Midnight called to her eagerly and she turned her head to locate him. Her ears pricked forward as she answered his call with a quick eager whinny. Instantly wild excitement surged through the black. He raced back and forth, keeping in the open, looking up at the pinto as he danced and kicked.
The little mare seemed to appreciate his efforts. She edged closer to the rim and nickered softly. The sound of her call sent Midnight leaping through the timber, pounding around the trail he had made. As he flashed into the sunlighted spaces below the rim he looked up to see her standing still, cut sharply against the sky, looking down at him. Again Midnight raced around his beaten pathway. As he flashed past the crevice which barred him from escape he halted and stared at the wide crack in the rock shelf. The trail beyond that fissure led to the little mare!
Midnight backed away a few yards, lowered his head, and sniffed. He suddenly lost his fear of the deep gash in the earth. With a defiant squeal he charged straight at the gaping crack. His flying hoofs sent rocks sailing into the canyon below. As he charged down on the barrier he gathered his hard muscles under him for the long leap. Like a black meteor he shot through the air. Leaping over barriers along this race course had given Midnight needed training. His body arched as he hurtled into space above the crevice. His forefeet reached for the far ledge, landed and clung while he lashed with his hind feet in an attempt to pull himself to safety. For a moment he hung there, poised above the chasm, plunging and struggling, then he stumbled forward, safe on the ledge trail.
Snorting and kicking, he pounded up the ledge until he came to the main trail leading out of Shadow Canyon. Doubling back along that trail he charged upward. With a clattering of loose stones he burst out on the edge of the meadow and halted to look for the pinto. The little mare had turned away from the rim. She stood looking at him, her neck arched, her mane blowing around her shoulders. She nickered and pawed at the grass tufts under her feet.
Midnight plunged toward her, eager to make friends. When he was within a few yards of her she whirled and fled. Midnight raced after her, calling wildly. The pinto ran toward the band of mares feeding in the center of the mesa. Above them the chestnut stallion stood guard, his sleek coat gleaming in the sun, his massive head erect. His protruding eyes watched the pinto as she raced toward the mares with the black colt close behind her. Midnight’s speed was greater than that of the little mare and he was soon racing shoulder to shoulder with her.
A scream of rage broke from the chestnut stallion. With ears laid back, nostrils flaring, he charged to meet Midnight. His teeth were bared and his eyes flamed. He meant to finish this young upstart at once. Midnight saw him coming and shoved over against the little mare, heading her away from the band. The boss of the herd came on at top speed. He was running at an angle to the course the two colts had taken.
Midnight had no fear of the big stallion. He was so wildly glad to see a band of horses that he had no thought of battling any of them. The chestnut came on with terrific force. He struck Midnight a smashing blow which turned the colt halfway around and sent him staggering. Midnight twisted and fought to keep from going down. The chestnut reared and lashed out with his forefeet. His teeth reached for the colt’s shoulder and his scream rang across the meadow.
As Midnight righted himself a terrible rage took him. He wanted to fight the big stallion, to smash him, to tear him. Swerving, he let the little mare dart into the band, then he whirled to meet the chestnut. The big stallion was eager for the kill. He had smashed young stallions before, driving them out of the band, and he expected to make short work of this fellow. Midnight answered the challenge by lunging to meet the leader’s second charge. The big stallion raised his heavy hoofs and met Midnight’s attack with smashing blows which battered the colt back. Pain brought a realization that the big stallion wanted to kill him just as the wolf pack had often tried. He dodged the next attack, but lunged in as the chestnut missed his target.
His feint only half saved him. The chestnut’s teeth ripped his shoulder and a crushing blow staggered him. Midnight leaped away from the next charge, which came as soon as the big fellow could wheel about. The little black was outweighed and his strength was nothing compared with that of the chestnut. The band of mares watched without showing much excitement. The pinto stood in their midst, her ears well forward, her eyes rolling.