nnet, and carefully drawing a pair of lemon-colored gloves over
her taper fingers, she seized her parasol and plunged into the depths
of the pine forest.

CHAPTER IV.

Genevra had not proceeded many miles before a weariness seized upon her
fragile limbs, and she would fain seat herself upon the trunk of a
prostrate pine, which she previously dusted with her handkerchief. The
sun was just sinking below the horizon, and the scene was one of
gorgeous and sylvan beauty. "How beautiful is Nature!" murmured the
innocent girl, as, reclining gracefully against the root of the tree,
she gathered up her skirts and tied a handkerchief around her throat.
But a low growl interrupted her meditation. Starting to her feet, her
eyes met a sight which froze her blood with terror.

The only outlet to the forest was the narrow path, barely wide enough
for a single person, hemmed in by trees and rocks, which she had just
traversed. Down this path, in Indian file, came a monstrous grizzly,
closely followed by a California lion, a wild-cat, and a buffalo, the
rear being brought up by a wild Spanish bull. The mouths of the three
first animals were distended with frightful significance; the horns of
the last were lowered as ominously. As Genevra was preparing to faint,
she heard a low voice behind her.

"Eternally dog-gone my skin ef this ain't the puttiest chance yet."

At the same moment, a long, shining barrel dropped lightly from behind
her, and rested over her shoulder.

Genevra shuddered.

"Dern ye--don't move!"

Genevra became motionless.

The crack of a rifle rang through the woods. Three frightful yells
were heard, and two sullen roars. Five animals bounded into the air
and five lifeless bodies lay upon the plain. The well-aimed bullet had
done its work. Entering the open throat of the grizzly, it had
traversed his body only to enter the throat of the California lion, and
in like manner the catamount, until it passed through into the
respective foreheads of the bull and the buffalo, and finally fell
flattened from the rocky hillside.

Genevra turned quickly. "My preserver!" she shrieked, and fell into
the arms of Natty Bumpo, the celebrated Pike Ranger of Donner Lake.

CHAPTER V.

The moon rose cheerfully above Donner Lake. On its placid bosom a
dug-out canoe glided rapidly, containing Natty Bumpo and Genevra
Tompkins.

Both were silent. The same thought possessed each, and perhaps there
was sweet