For two days the wild band remained under the rim; then the blizzard broke and the sun struggled through the gray clouds to shine feebly into the canyon. The mares moved out and began pawing among the tumbled rocks, digging for grass. They scooped the new snow and swallowed it to wet their throats. Above them, against the turquoise sky, a pair of buzzards wheeled and circled, their round, hard eyes peering down hungrily, watching the horses, eager to see if any showed signs of weakness. The undertakers of the air would follow the band daily, hoping the cold and the scant feed would bring death to some of the band. The chestnut stallion met the rigors of winter with the same disdain he held for hunters. The colts were watched more closely because the snow and the cold had driven the natural food of the cougar and the wolves to cover. Many of the little dwellers were curled up in deep, warm burrows sleeping. Most of the birds had flown south. But the big killers did not sleep. Winter was a time when hunger and famine stalked their world, when they ran for days with lean, gaunt bellies driving them on. The hunger which cramped their stomachs made them savage and daring, it sharpened their cunning, and made their raids more deadly. One evening a hungry colt strayed from the band, seeking a spot where the snow was not so deep. His mother was busy pawing through a drift where she had located a clump of bushes with tender twigs in abundance. The colt wandered up to a stand of juniper which stood sprawled against the snow. He dug down experimentally, found no curly buffalo grass and moved on, farther up the slope, closer to the green trees. He was pawing into a drift when he heard a savage snarling. He jerked up his head and snorted, his round eyes staring with fright. Out of the juniper woods leaped four gray wolves. Their broad chests rose above the snow, spraying it aside in fine spurts. Their red tongues rolled between their bared fangs. The pack was lean and gaunt, but they did not sound the cry of the kill, they ran silently, emitting low snarls. The colt whirled and floundered toward the mares. The chestnut stallion was the first to see the wolves. With a squeal of rage he charged toward them. The colt plunged along but he had wandered far from the band. Behind him the killers rapidly closed in. Their white fangs slashed the muscles and tendons of his straining legs, hamstringing him. He went down plunging and kicking, and the gray killers leaped upon him ripping and tearing. At the sound of the chestnut’s shrill warning the mares jerked up their heads and charged to the rescue of the struggling colt. Lady Ebony leaped ahead close beside the big stallion. For a moment the wolves stood their ground, then they faded back, snarling and howling, to circle around the band. The mares milled and stamped around the colt while his mother nosed him and whinnied eagerly. He kicked a little, then lay still.