The old yellowbelly whistler was uneasy. He scented the coming of a cold snap, a heavy snow perhaps. The aspens were flaming yellow, the oak brush purple and red, its rounded clumps looking like fine upholstery laid on an immense piece of furniture. The calico chips darted around in frantic haste as they gathered seeds to add to their bulging granaries. Even the rockchips were more active than usual. They did not spend so much time hugging their fat bellies and mooning into the distance. The dog colony was as noisy and busy as usual but there was a difference in their chatter. This was a time of uncertainty. Indian summer had to end. It had held the high country in its drowsy spell for many days. Now the air had a different feel.  
Down by the castle rocks there was a newly made pile of rocks. This disturbance of the scenery had upset the small folk of the meadow for a while but now they were used to it. The calico chips used it as a hiding place and even the whistlers had explored it carefully.
 
Suddenly the meadow rang with an eager whinny, followed by a loud snort and the pounding of hoofs against the dry, hard ground. A black stallion and a pinto filly broke from the head of the Shadow Canyon trail.152 They raced wildly around the mesa, kicking and dodging. They swung down past the castle rocks and the black stallion made a magnificent show of shying and plunging as they passed the pile of rocks. Saluting the mound with a flash of his heels he raced back toward the old cabin.
 
Midnight slid to a halt before the cabin and called loudly. He advanced toward the door shaking his head and snorting, his eyes rolling wildly.
 
The door of the cabin hung open. A blue-white wreath of smoke curled out and up into the air, then old Sam stepped through the doorway. He stood for a moment steadying himself, one hand against the casing, then he shuffled outside and sank down on the ancient willow chair. As he seated himself he dug into a pocket of his worn jacket and brought out a handful of dingy lump sugar.
 
“No human critter could of got me outside today the way my rheumatiz joints is shoutin’ fer a storm,” he said.
 
He held out one hand with two lumps of sugar in it. The black stallion edged closer, his legs trembling, his nostrils flaring eagerly. The pinto filly crowded ahead of him and her pink nose deftly whisked the sugar out of Sam’s palm. Old Sam chuckled as he placed two more lumps in his palm.
 
“Lady, you act plumb scandalous fer a wild hoss,” he said.
 
Midnight had edged close now. He gathered up the two lumps and crunched them eagerly. Even after weeks of coaxing and tempting Sam had not quieted all the fears in the heart of the stallion. Sam doled out the sweets slowly, making them last as long as possible. When they were gone he got to his feet, and picked up a tin pail beside the door. Walking to a bare spot of153 ground near the ............