e realized that if he threw himself into the swirl of
humanity and allowed himself to become a part of its motives and its
emotions, that it would require a herculean effort to attain a
position where he could look over the heads of other men. That
position, he argued, was not worth the life-long effort required.
Withal, he could not bring himself to quite understand why he had
married Mary Greenwater, unless that she possessed some occult power
and gained control over forces of his nature which he did not
understand. True, there was but little or no obligation to the
ceremony. It held good in the Cherokee Indian nation, that government
within a government. Outside that limited space of ground it was null
and void. He was a free man under the laws of his own government. Yet
that act, of his own creation, somehow seemed to stand over him like a
Frankenstein with an uplifted axe.

The snow was deep, and as he plodded along with these thoughts running
through his mind, he heard a cry. Glancing backwards he saw a horse
drawing a sleigh, plunging madly down the road. The reins were held by
a woman, frantically urging the horse forward. Some distance behind
four huge mountain lions were in hot pursuit, their heavy bodies
crouching and springing forward many feet at a leap. Carson took in
the situation at a glance and, raising his hand as a signal to the
girl in the sleigh to rein in, he sprang into the vehicle as she
passed. The momentary pause had given the beasts a chance to gain,
when, drawing his revolver, he fired at the foremost and sent it
rolling in the snow. Another shot and a second lion paused with a
mighty roar. At this the other two turned and fled in the opposite
direction.

Carson now took the reins and stopped the horse. The animal was
trembling with fright, while the girl was calm but pale.

"Rather a close shave, eh, Sis?"

"Truly," she replied, "how fortunate you were here. I was driving
to Del Norte when I met the lions. They were gamboling in the
snow like kittens. When I turned Bess, they pursued. I want the
one you have just killed, I want to have him mounted to remember
today,--and--and--you."

"By all means, Miss, you shall have it, but where are you going now?"

"Back to Saguache after this fright. Poor Old Bess could not have
stood the race much farther. See how she trembles. I am the niece of
Mr. Amos. My name is Annie Amos. I have friends in Del Norte, whom I
intended to visit. I shall wai