Circling to windward the yellow killer crept to the edge of the meadow. He was looking for the sentinel he expected to find on guard over the band. When he saw no guard he snarled softly and his yellow eyes flamed. He peered intently at the bedded horses and his eyes fastened on a colt standing close to his mother who was lying in a deep hollow. The colt’s head was down and his furry rump was toward the king cat. Silently, like a tawny shadow, the cat slid through the grass toward the unsuspecting colt. When he was within striking distance he drew his powerful legs under him and flattened his head between his massive forepaws. His long claws moved slowly in and out, sheathing and unsheathing their sharp points; his lips pulled away from his fangs. Up on the knoll Midnight was dancing on his hind legs, his ears back, his bared teeth reaching to nip at the neck of the pinto. She whirled and lashed out at him with her slender feet. Midnight dodged the blows and crowded against her, shoving her roughly to one side. She laid back her ears and sunk her teeth into the loose skin of his shoulder. The pain angered Midnight and he whirled to teach her a lesson. His lunge was halted as the savage scream of the cougar cracked the stillness. His forefeet struck the ground with a thud and he stood beside the pinto, staring toward the mares. The frightened whinny of a colt mingled with the cry of the big cat. That cry from the stricken colt sent a surging rush of rage through Midnight. He plunged straight down the slope toward the spot where the cat had made his attack. In the meadow the mares had lurched to their feet and were snorting and milling about. With a ringing call the black stallion charged to the rescue. The cougar had landed on the colt’s back, striking him down instantly. The little fellow was dead in a moment. Standing on the limp body of his victim, the yellow killer faced the angry mares who plunged around him. Midnight charged through the circle and leaped at the killer, his ears laid back, his battle cry ringing. This was something the cougar had not expected. He had decided there was no stallion with the band. Now he arched his back and reared to meet Midnight. He lashed out at the black as he came in. The cougar stayed a minute too long in facing the enraged Midnight. He expected the stallion to swerve and rush past, but Midnight did not swerve. He lifted his forefeet and struck straight into the face of the killer. His smashing hoofs descended on the head and shoulders of the king cat. The blows sent the cat rolling and tumbling over and over on the grass. Instantly the mares joined the attack. Once a leader had braved the terrible fangs and claws of the cat they were ready to finish the job.