companionship even in the unbroken quiet. Genevra bit the
handle of her parasol and blushed. Natty Bumpo took a fresh chew of
tobacco. At length Genevra said, as if in half-spoken revery:--

"The soft shining of the moon and the peaceful ripple of the waves seem
to say to us various things of an instructive and moral tendency."

"You may bet yer pile on that, Miss," said her companion, gravely.
"It's all the preachin' and psalm-singin' I've heern since I was a boy."

"Noble being!" said Miss Tompkins to herself, glancing at the stately
Pike as he bent over his paddle to conceal his emotion. "Reared in this
wild seclusion, yet he has become penetrated with visible consciousness
of a Great First Cause." Then, collecting herself, she said aloud:
"Methinks 'twere pleasant to glide ever thus down the stream of life,
hand in hand with the one being whom the soul claims as its affinity.
But what am I saying?"--and the delicate-minded girl hid her face in
her hands.

A long silence ensued, which was at length broken by her companion.

"Ef you mean you're on the marry," he said, thoughtfully, "I ain't in
no wise partikler!"

"My husband," faltered the blushing girl; and she fell into his arms.

In ten minutes more the loving couple had landed at Judge Tompkins's.

CHAPTER VI.

A year has passed away. Natty Bumpo was returning from Gold Hill,
where he had been to purchase provisions. On his way to Donner Lake,
rumors of an Indian uprising met his ears. "Dern their pesky skins, ef
they dare to touch my Jenny," he muttered between his clenched teeth.

It was dark when he reached the borders of the lake. Around a
glittering fire he dimly discerned dusky figures dancing. They were in
war paint. Conspicuous among them was the renowned Muck-a-Muck. But
why did the fingers of Natty Bumpo tighten convulsively around his
rifle?

The chief held in his hand long tufts of raven hair. The heart of the
pioneer sickened as he recognized the clustering curls of Genevra. In
a moment his rifle was at his shoulder, and with a sharp "ping,"
Muck-a-Muck leaped into the air a corpse. To knock out the brains of
the remaining savages, tear the tresses from the stiffening hand of
Muck-a-Muck, and dash rapidly forward to the cottage of Judge Tompkins,
was the work of a moment.

He burst open the door. Why did he stand transfixed with open mouth
and distended eyeballs? Was the sight too horrible to be borne? On
the contr