Down on the desert the chestnut stallion and his band had met with an ordeal unusual for them. There had been only light snows all winter and the spring rains had been so light they did not settle the dust or harden the sand. The grass was short and poor in quality. The big stallion had trouble forcing the mares to do as he wished. The wise old ones knew that there was grass and water in the mountains and were determined to head that way. Finally the chestnut gave in and led them toward the Crazy Kill Range. They worked their way quickly through the foothills where cowboys were shoving white-faced cattle out on the spring range. The mares would gladly have stayed to feed and put some fat on their lank frames in the low country where the grass was growing lustily, but the chestnut drove them higher, toward the bleak meadows under timber line where the riders would not come. One morning the band arrived at the high mesa overlooking Shadow Canyon. The mares and colts came up the narrow trail first, with the chestnut bringing up the rear. When they broke from the canyon they spread out and began feeding. The pinto filly was the second one to reach the mesa. She was stronger and tougher than any of the other mares and had stood the winter better. Midnight was resting in the timber close above the clearing by the cabin when the pinto and her mother walked out into the tall grass. He plunged to his feet and whinnied loudly. The mare halted and looked at him without answering his call, but the pinto tossed her head and nickered eagerly. With a flash of her heels she trotted to meet him. Midnight charged across the grass and slid to a halt beside her. The pinto pivoted and lashed out at him with her trim heels. Midnight dodged and the filly headed across the meadow with the black swinging along at her side. They raced the full length of the mesa and back again, to halt at the base of the castle rocks where they stood, snorting and prancing. Their second run took them charging through the band of mares spread out on the meadow. The scrawny colts in the band bounced after the fleeting racers until they were outdistanced while the mares watched without interest. Just at that moment they were far too busy pulling grass to care about this black stallion. The chestnut trotted out on the meadow and stood looking about for danger signs. He sighted the black and the pinto racing across the grass and his eyes rolled, his ears flattened, and he blasted a savage challenge.