The black colt scrambled to his feet. The memory of the savage silvertip was fresh in his mind. He tossed his head and snorted loudly. The brown bear halted his descent and peered down at him, then began to slide again. Then Midnight saw another bear, larger than the first, swinging off the mesa above. The big fellow came down amid a shower of bark and twigs. Midnight whirled and fled as far as he could get away from the spruces. He halted and stood watching the two bears, ready to dodge and run if they charged at him. The two bears paid no attention to Midnight. They grunted and growled as they walked into the aspen grove, where they prowled about rooting into the dead leaves, overturning rotting logs. Then both sat up letting their big paws droop over their shaggy bellies. They sat looking up at the spruce trees. Down the leaning tree came two more bears. Midnight pawed frantically but he was as far away from the bears as he could get. The two newcomers joined the first pair in the aspen grove. There was much growling and grunting, with many deep woofs added. Midnight remained where he was, trembling and pawing the ground. Within an hour seven bears had arrived by way of the leaning spruce, and the grove was noisy with their gruff voices. One he-bear walked to an aspen tree. Lifting himself to his full height he gashed a mark on the trunk with his teeth. Another male, who had been sitting watching him, got to his feet and walked to the tree. He gashed the tree higher than the other had been able to reach. Then a big fellow with a furry red face strolled to the tree. He grunted several times as he stood up. He marked the tree a full six inches above the highest mark, then dropped to the ground and faced the other bears. The males backed away from him as though recognizing his superior prowess. He strolled to one of the she-bears and nosed against her. She accepted the caress and the big male turned toward the spruce trees. He ambled to the leaning tree and started to climb. The she-bear followed him obediently. One of the other males edged close to a female, rumbling in his chest as he moved toward her. Another male stepped forward and the two big fellows faced each other. An angry argument followed. The aspen grove rang with the roars of the two males, but they did not fight. One of them backed away and the other led the she-bear to the sloping spruce in triumph. They went up the tree and out on the mesa. There were two males and one female left. The smaller fellow, a smudged, black-faced bear, had edged close to the last she-bear. He woofed and grunted in an attempt to get her to go with him, but she just sat and looked up into the aspen branches. The larger he-bear walked toward her. The little bear with the black face crowded in front of her, growling warningly.