Midnight and the old buck fed steadily, the buck following the trail Midnight had broken. He was about twenty yards back of the little stallion. Midnight pulled a tuft of grass up out of the snow and chewed it eagerly. Swallowing it he ducked his head and nosed about for more. He pulled another mouthful and looked around him. He was fast learning the tricks of the old buck. Look, listen, test the air after every exploration under the crust. It was the buck who warned him of danger. The monarch snorted loudly and whirled about. The wind had shifted and his keen nose had caught cougar scent. Midnight looked and saw the gaunt killer rising above the drift in a long, high leap. The big cat screamed savagely, angered because he had been discovered before he was ready to attack. Midnight plunged after the old buck. The cougar landed on the hard crust, skidded, then righted himself and bounded again. His leaps were terrific and carried him down quickly on the two struggling and panic-stricken comrades. His ears were flattened and his tail was lashing. His yellow eyes checked the distance he had to cover. His last leap must send him smashing down on the back of the colt. His tawny body shot upward and out in a twenty-foot leap, while his claws unsheathed and he bared his fangs for the death thrust. With a wild plunge of speed Midnight charged past the old buck. The ancient monarch was a scarred warrior. He had been attacked by cougars before and had always managed to escape. This time he was trapped. He could not flounder to the deep, soft drifts in the spruce. Like any wild thing, he whirled to fight because that was all there was left for him to do. He had lived to old age in the high country because he had been able to meet desperate situations. When he whirled he lowered his sharp antlers until they formed a shield for his neck and shoulders. The leap of the yellow killer had been aimed and timed so that its force would smash down on the back of the colt. Instead of smashing upon the unprotected back of the little horse the cougar landed upon the bony lances of the old buck. His hundred pounds of weight hurtling down on those horns would have been damaging enough, but the old timber-line monarch charged forward just as the cat landed, adding to the effectiveness of the defense. The buck was smashed back on his haunches, but instantly his powerful legs straightened and with a grunt he lunged again. The lances of bone drove deep into the chest and neck and legs of the cougar. When the buck lunged he twisted those knives and drove them deeper. He ripped and tore in mad fury. Flight was forgotten now that he was in a battle. He thought only of destroying his attacker. The cougar was startled by this attack from a prey which had always fled in a wild fear before him. He screamed savagely as he struggled to toss his body out of the path of the ripping horns. Rolling over and over in the snow he scrambled away from the charging deer.