Spring came with a chinook and a sudden thaw which broke a week of bitter weather. The transformation was in the nature of a miracle. Soft breezes blew up from the valleys, warm winds which settled the snow and filled it with water. Midnight smelled the earthiness of the wind from the lowlands and pranced eagerly. A change as sudden as the change in the weather had come over him. For months he had given all his attention to the gnawing hunger which was always demanding more dry grass; now he was stirred by another urge. He wanted to be free to run, to seek something he did not understand. Shaking his head he galloped through the slush and mud to the ledge trail. The dirty ice filling the crevice had not settled. The force of the slide had packed it so hard that it melted only a little on the surface. Midnight walked across the fissure and up the ledge trail. He stood on the edge of the meadow and looked across its gleaming surface. With an eager nicker he plowed through the wet snow. The old timber-line buck was not there to greet him and the only answer to his call was the harsh and irritated chatter of a crested jay in the timber. Midnight moved out on the mesa and began pawing for grass. He was hungry and now that he was in the open he did not know what he desired or where he wanted to go, so he set to feeding. After a time he moved down beside the castle rocks and stood staring into the smoky haze of the valley country. Toward evening he went to the castle rocks and climbed up to the shelter he had shared with Lady Ebony. He sniffed about, pawing and snorting as he smelled cougar scent. The cat smell mingled with the pungent odor coming from the pack rat’s nest in the corner. The cat smell was cold but it stirred him to uneasy anger. He tore to bits the bed of sticks where the king cat had slept, scattering them about on the rocky floor. That night the cold came again and the slushy snow froze into a coating of ice. In the morning the meadow was locked under a thick rust of icy armor and Midnight was forced to work hard to get a meal. For several weeks he battled to keep his stomach filled. But with the passing of each day the air grew warmer and softer, the snow settled, and bare spots began to appear. Midnight was able again to eat his fill. He raced around the meadow giving play to his powerful muscles. He was big and strong; another season would see him a magnificent black stallion. As the snow line crept back into the timber to make its last stand in the shadows under the spruce, the buds on the trees burst and the first flowers shoved their heads out of the ground. Green shoots pushed up through the dead grass. Their lush juices tantalized the black horse. He could not get enough of them, yet he could not let them alone. His efforts always ended by his eating a great deal of the cured grass in order to fill his belly.