With the pinto beside him he raced once around the meadow, then the two joined the mares. Midnight was too excited to start feeding. He walked around sniffing at the colts, edging up to the mares. The old ones laid back their ears and warned him to keep his distance. When he tried to nose one of their colts they humped their backs warningly. But they accepted him as the master of the band and waited for him to assert himself in the savage and harsh manner to which they were accustomed. But Midnight lacked much in leadership. He really wanted to be a member of the band and not a leader. He wanted to play with the pinto filly. His rage had cooled and with it had gone much of the strange power he had felt while battling the chestnut stallion. The pinto did not understand why she was interested in Midnight but she stayed close to his side and divided her attention between him and the lush grass. Toward evening the mares became restless. They were used to seeking cover before night fell. One old mare moved away from the band. She had decided that this new leader was not going to seek a safe retreat. She shook her head, then moved into the timber. The others followed her with Midnight and the pinto coming along behind, nipping at each other and making a great show of kicking their heels and lashing at each other. And the old mare changed the course the chestnut had so insistently followed. She headed across the ridge and down into a deep valley. The mares followed their new leader. They expected the chestnut stallion to come charging through the woods after them to drive them back toward the high ridges, but they did not want to go higher and did not intend to head that way until he came. The moon swung up over a spruce ridge and flooded the valley with white light. The wise old mare selected a sheltered little meadow for a stopping place. It was small and the band of thirty horses had to crowd close together, but it smallness offered protection against cougars and wolves. The cunning and harsh leadership of the chestnut stallion had taken much of the natural wariness away from the mares. They had always depended on him to guide them. Late that night Midnight had his first chance to take his place as protector and lord of the band. The mares and the colts had bedded down. Midnight and the pinto had raced around the clearing and come to a halt on a wooded knoll overlooking the meadow. They stood close together, snorting and pawing and playing. They pretended to see forms in the black shadows under the spruce. While they were standing there a lank cougar passed below the high point. His nose wrinkled and his long, black-tipped tail lashed as he scented the mares and colts sleeping in the open.