sweetly odorous that the air seemed intoxicating. Helen
and Bo opened their baggage, and what with use of the cold water, brush
and comb, and clean blouses, they made themselves feel as comfortable as
possible, considering the excruciating aches. Then they went out to the
campfire.

Helen's eye was attracted by moving objects near at hand. Then
simultaneously with Bo's cry of delight Helen saw a beautiful doe
approaching under the trees. Dale walked beside it.

"You sure had a long sleep," was the hunter's greeting. "I reckon you
both look better."

"Good morning. Or is it afternoon? We're just able to move about," said
Helen.

"I could ride," declared Bo, stoutly. "Oh, Nell, look at the deer! It's
coming to me."

The doe had hung back a little as Dale reached the camp-fire. It was a
gray, slender creature, smooth as silk, with great dark eyes. It stood a
moment, long ears erect, and then with a graceful little trot came up
to Bo and reached a slim nose for her outstretched hand. All about it,
except the beautiful soft eyes, seemed wild, and yet it was as tame as
a kitten. Then, suddenly, as Bo fondled the long ears, it gave a start
and, breaking away, ran back out of sight under the pines.

"What frightened it?" asked Bo.

Dale pointed up at the wall under the shelving roof of rock. There,
twenty feet from the ground, curled up on a ledge, lay a huge tawny
animal with a face like that of a cat.

"She's afraid of Tom," replied Dale. "Recognizes him as a hereditary
foe, I guess. I can't make friends of them."

"Oh! So that's Tom--the pet lion!" exclaimed Bo. "Ugh! No wonder that
deer ran off!"

"How long has he been up there?" queried Helen, gazing fascinated at
Dale's famous pet.

"I couldn't say. Tom comes an' goes," replied Dale. "But I sent him up
there last night."

"And he was there--perfectly free--right over us--while we slept!" burst
out Bo.

"Yes. An' I reckon you slept the safer for that."

"Of all things! Nell, isn't he a monster? But he doesn't look like a
lion--an African lion. He's a panther. I saw his like at the circus
once."

"He's a cougar," said Dale. "The panther is long and slim. Tom is not
only long, but thick an' round. I've had him four years. An' he was a
kitten no bigger 'n my fist when I got him."

"Is he perfectly tame--safe?" asked Helen, anxiously.

"I've never told anybody that Tom was safe, but he is," replied Dale.
"You can absolutely believe it. A wild cougar wou