The big bear shuffled up to him, reared, and cuffed him hard alongside of the head. The little fellow danced up and down and his roars shook the branches of the aspens and echoed along the rock walls, but he backed away from the she-bear. The big fellow walked around her and grunted deeply. Then he headed toward the leaning tree against the wall. She followed him while the little bear sat with a sad expression on his face watching them. He remained where he was until they had climbed out onto the mesa above. He whined a little, ambled to the tree, and began climbing out of the basin. The love moon of the bears had risen. This secluded spot was the scene of their first summer romancing. The pairs would wander away into the woods and remain together for a while. Midnight did not understand the nature of the gathering, but he did realize that they had not come to the mesa prison to attack him. He edged out toward the grove which reeked with bear scent. Snorting and jerking his head, he trotted around to the lower end of the mesa where he nibbled a few blades of grass. The wind carried the strong bear smell to him and he moved to the upper end again where he bedded down for the night. Then next morning while Midnight was feeding close to the beaver lake he met another stranger. The animal was not large and it waddled along at a slow pace. It had long, yellowish hair and it seemed too dull-witted and slow to be dangerous. Midnight advanced. The dull-witted one lifted the hair on his back but otherwise paid no attention to the little horse. Midnight had never met a porcupine. He thought the spines sticking out of his back were long hairs. The dull gnawer of bark sat down when Midnight got close to him. Only his tail moved, jerking up and down. Midnight extended his soft muzzle and sniffed in a friendly manner. He kept his legs planted wide so that he could leap if the porky came to life suddenly and attacked him. The gnawer did not move, he huddled into a ball of spiny fur, pulling his head back until only the tip of his snout showed. Midnight tossed his head and pawed, his nose extended closer as he sniffed and sniffed. Suddenly he felt a quick stab of pain in his tender muzzle. He leaped back with a snort. An ivory barb that was half black with ebony stuck out of his lower lip. Midnight galloped away through the aspens, across the little meadow to the far side. The pain in his lip increased as the barb dug deeper. He halted and thrust his muzzle into the fresh, black dirt of a pocket-gopher mound. He raked his nose back and forth in the damp earth. The cool dirt soothed the burning sting but it also drove the barb deeper into the tender flesh. Midnight next tried rubbing the wounded spot against the trunk of a tree. The quill caught in the rough bark and pulled free. It came away red with a little piece of Midnight’s flesh clinging to it.