The next morning Tex was up before the other two men had wakened. He made coffee in the blackened pot and finished up what had been left of Shorty’s biscuits. With a can of tomatoes, a tin of fish and some coffee from the cupboard he left the cabin.
The rising sun found him on a high ridge overlooking the sweep of the lower slopes of the Crazy Kills. He studied the meadows below, watching the timbered edges of the clearings, but he saw no sign of the black stallion. After that he set about checking the meadows, following the trails from valley to valley. About noon he came on two of the wild mares. He did not alarm them and they did not know he had seen them. Later he came on three more in a meadow far from where he had located the first two. At four that afternoon he found two others feeding beside a stream miles from the others. And he had come across no sign of the black stallion, not even his tracks. He began to wonder what had happened to the colt. And he was beginning to wonder if the band had not separated for good. The mares he had come on had been feeding or lying down. They had not seemed to be looking for the others. Tex refused to be worried, but he rode until darkness forced a halt. He built a little fire to heat water for coffee. He had eaten the tinned fish and tomatoes at noon. But he was determined to camp where he was and go on with the search in the morning.
The next day Tex rode until evening without coming on the black or crossing his trail. He was convinced now that the stallion was making no effort to round up the mares, that he was too young and inexperienced to have developed band leadership. He knew he faced a tough job but he had no idea of quitting. He would need a pack horse and supplies to stay in the hills more than two days. That meant he would have to return to the home ranch.
He rode back to the high-line cabin and cooked a meal. There was no one at the cabin and he rolled up on the bunk as soon as he had eaten. The next day he headed for the home ranch.
The major did not object when Tex told him his plans. But Tex knew that a week would probably be all he would be allowed for the hunt. The major would be calling him in to take charge of other work. He was convinced his boss was giving him this time so that he would have a chance to settle the matter that had been between them since Sam was taken away.
Tex rode into the high country. He laid his plans carefully. He meant to cover the range from timber line down in a careful check of all meadows and feed grounds. He was sure he would miss no spot where a wild horse would stay because he had ridden the Crazy Kill slopes for fifteen years and knew every foot of the ground.
Methodically he worked, from the north limits toward the south. He accounted for all the wild horses except Midnight and the pinto filly. At the end of the week he was worried. The black stallion must have gone down into the desert or over the divide into the wild country beyond Major Howard’s range. He had to admit he had failed in a job that seemed to him important. He knew there was no use trying to make a ride into the desert. That vast expanse of sand and canyons stretched clear to the Mexican border, while the wild country beyond the Crazy Kills was worse than the desert. It was canyon-slotted and grown dense with timber. No ranchers used it as a range. It was virgin wilderness and it was a hundred miles deep.
When Major Howard ordered Tex to take charge of the drive that would bring the new herds of cattle to the high country from the railroad yards he did not object. He had had his chance and had failed.
At the foot of the high walls overlooking Shadow Canyon, Midnight and the pinto stayed hidden in the aspen grove by day. At night they either fed in the little meadow or climbed up to the high mesa. When they were on the high mesa they raced and played. They never stayed after dawn broke. Twice they scented man smell on the wind and dashed to cover along the ledge trail.