One evening Midnight saw a deer feeding at the edge of a clearing. He trotted over to the big-eared one in a friendly manner. But this one was different from the does. He had long, branching antlers and snorted aggressively when he halted and whinnied eagerly. Midnight stood staring at the strange deer with branches on his head. The buck snorted again. His horns were beginning to harden and the velvet was dropping away from their sharp spikes. With the hardening process his shoulders had begun to swell and his temper was becoming uncertain. Midnight moved a little closer. He humped his back and kicked up his heels. The buck grunted angrily, then snorted. With a shake of his head he lowered his sweeping antlers and trotted toward the colt. Midnight circled and the buck circled. Midnight whirled and raced away. This fellow wanted to play. He’d give him a run around the meadow. The buck jerked up his head and shook it. He had routed the enemy and was satisfied. He began feeding again, cropping the weeds and shoots, champing steadily. Midnight circled and galloped back to the old buck. This time the big fellow charged. The colt realized that the antlered deer wanted to fight and not play. Kicking his heels high he fled to his mother’s side. Lady Ebony ran toward the buck and the big fellow bounded into the timber. Midnight felt he had won a great victory. He celebrated by charging around the meadow at a terrific pace. Lady Ebony watched him as he ran. But a day came when the mare felt an urge to move on. Summer had slipped away and fall had brought frost and sharp winds from the peaks above. The high, barren reaches above timber line were white with new snow. Lady Ebony remembered the roundup when riders came to the high mesa and drove the horses down to the feed grounds in the valley. She moved about restlessly and finally struck off up the slope. Winter was coming and she was ready to go down the long trail to the home ranch. Her brief training with the wild band was forgotten, she was again a willing captive of man’s way. * * * * * With the passing of summer Sam grew more listless and weary. He hated to take his daily walk in the padded yard behind the high walls which shut out the sight of his mountains. He preferred to sit in his cell and stare at the changing cottonwood branch. He had chalked another fall on his cell wall, but he thought about it for a week before he put the mark down. He was tired but he’d get over that once he was back on his mountain mesa where he could sit in the sun and watch his neighbors. 7. The Way of the High Country