sha'n't ever venture to go into another."

"Bless me! this is one of our mildest specimens," said Dr. Hope, who
seemed to have a perverse desire to give Mrs. Watson a distaste for
canyons. "This is a smooth one; but some canyons are really rough. Do you
remember, Mary, the day we got stuck up at the top of the Westmoreland,
and had to unhitch the horses, and how I stood in the middle of the creek
and yanked the carriage round while you held them? That was the day we
heard the mountain lion, and there were fresh bear-tracks all over the
mud, you remember."

"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Watson, quite pale; "what an awful place!
Bears and lions! What on earth did you go there for?"

"Oh, purely for pleasure," replied the doctor, lightly. "We don't mind
such little matters out West. We try to accustom ourselves to wild beasts,
and make friends of them."

"John, don't talk such nonsense," cried his wife, quite angrily. "Mrs.
Watson, you mustn't believe a word the doctor says. I've lived in Colorado
nine years; and I've never once seen a mountain lion, or a bear either,
except the stuffed ones in the shops. Don't let the doctor frighten you."

But Dr. Hope's wicked work was done. Mrs. Watson, quite unconvinced by
these well-meant assurances, sat pale and awe-struck, repeating under her
breath,--

"Dreadful! What _will_ Ellen say? Bears and lions! Oh, dear me!"

"Look, look!" cried Clover, who had not listened to a word of this
conversation; "did you ever see anything so lovely?" She referred to what
she was looking at,--a small point of pale straw-colored rock some
hundreds of feet in height, which a turn in the road had just revealed,
soaring above the tops of the trees.

"I don't see that it's lovely at all," said Mrs. Watson, testily. "It's
unnatural, if that's what you mean. Rocks ought not to be that color.
They never are at the East. It looks to me exactly like an enormous unripe
banana standing on end."

This simile nearly "finished" the party. "It's big enough to disagree with
all the Sunday-schools in creation at once," remarked the doctor, between
his shouts, while even Clover shook with laughter. Mrs. Watson felt that
she had made a hit, and grew complacent again.

"See what your brother picked for me," cried Poppy, riding alongside, and
exhibiting a great sheaf of columbine tied to the pommel of her saddle.
"And how do you like North Cheyenne? Isn't it an exquisite place?"

"Perfectly lovely; I feel as