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.