Tex held on until the black stallion thundered out into the saddle above and vanished down the far slope. He had not used his spurs on the bay. He knew his horse had given everything he had. On the ridge Tex pulled up while the bay blew and pawed. Suddenly Tex laughed. He had never seen such speed. Now he was certain he had to capture the big fellow. He just couldn’t have a horse on the range that was faster than the one he owned. Then his laugh died away. He had a more important reason for catching the black; in the excitement he had forgotten it. Midnight charged through the timber and kept going until he reached the bottom of a canyon. He halted in a dense growth of river alder and called long and loud to the pinto. From far up the mountainside she answered him. Her call was frantic and excited. Midnight listened and heard a shout from the man who had chased him. He kept still for a long time. Finally he called to the pinto again and she answered him from lower down the slope. She was hurrying to him as fast as she could make her way down the rough slope. Midnight waited and listened. After a time he decided the bay and his rider were not coming down into the canyon. He could hear the pinto rattling stones and nickering eagerly but there was no other sound. The pinto broke into the alder stand in answer to Midnight’s call as she reached the bottom of the canyon. They stood close together, watching and listening. Up on the ridge Tex turned the bay and headed him back down to the long meadow. Night would soon settle and he would have no chance to trail the black after dark. His best course was to follow the mares and drive them into the lower country so that the black stallion would have to come down to round them up. He sent the bay galloping along the trail the fleeing mares had made as they raced off the bench. Deep in the canyon Midnight was undecided what he should do. He was certain he could not stay where he was. The man would be sure to follow them. He finally followed his instinct, which was to put many miles between himself and the country which had proved so dangerous. He did not have a strong urge to follow the mares and round them up. His instincts for leadership were not strong enough to make him look for them. He knew of only one place where he had always found safety and where he had never been attacked. That place was the little meadow under the rim below the high mesa. With a snort he headed up the sloping side of the canyon.