With frantic snorts and eager whinnying Lady Ebony nosed her son as he staggered to his feet. He crowded close against her, willing now to be guarded. The eagles rose straight up into the blue for five hundred feet before they leveled off. They circled and looked down, their screams ringing along the cliffs. Midnight stayed close to his mother. His rump was smarting and he felt the need of her strength. After a time the eagles widened their circles and flew away. Midnight had learned another lesson. When Lady Ebony sounded a warning call he rushed to her side instead of humping his back and dancing up and down. He wanted no more raking talons in his skin. He was beginning to know the price of life in the wild. He was coming to know that the strong live while the weak and the foolish die soon. But the little horse’s fright passed quickly. He was a true child of the wilderness and fear was a passing shadow. With the circling killers gone from the sky he forgot them and sought dinner. He was much stronger now, his legs had stiffened and he was able to bounce up and down. The blood of his father gave him something Lady Ebony did not have, a vitality and a savageness all babies of the wild must have to survive. Had he been born with the band he would have been able to follow them. He made a short circle among the rocks, then came back to his mother’s side where he thrust his head under her flank and began drinking lustily. Lady Ebony was proud of him, but she was worried too, because there were so many enemies in this wild country. She was a horse trained to depend upon man, his fences and his protecting rifle. Vaguely she knew she should be in a shed during this important time. Midnight shared none of her worries; he was typically a wild horse. That evening the big bobcat serenaded them from the blue-black depths of the cottonwood grove. No man or beast who has ever heard the terrifying yowling of the cat-of-the-mountain when he is struck by a lonely mood has remained calm and unfrightened. Even the cougar and the wolf move off when he starts serenading. The big cat began his plaint with long “me-ows” till after a few minutes his cry was a series of “row-row-rows,” ending in terrific screeches. The weird screaming echoed along the rock walls of the gorge. It finally tapered off into long-drawn wails filled with hopeless despair as though the big fellow was condemned to a terrible fate and knew his time was near. Lady Ebony rushed to the side of Midnight and began frantically herding him up the canyon. She did not have to urge the little horse. He struck out wildly, running as fast as he could, looking back in terror, expecting to see a monster leap on him from the woods. A pair of coyotes trotting up the canyon halted and stood for a moment staring through the moonlight. They whirled and raced back, casting glances over their shoulders as they ran.