In a second or two, the heavy stone rolled a few feet into the cave; the jaguar advanced her head, then her shoulders, and at last, a noiseless bound brought her within four feet of Boone, who at that critical moment collecting all his strength for a decisive blow, dashed her skull to atoms.  Boone, quite exhausted, drank some of her blood to allay his thirst, pillowed his head upon her body, and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning Boone, after having made a good meal off one of the cubs, started to rejoin his companions, and communicated to them his adventure and discovery.  A short time afterwards, the cave was stored with all the articles necessary to a trapper’s life, and soon became the rendezvous of all the adventurous men from the banks of the river Platte to the shores of the Great Salt Lake.

Since Boone had settled in his present abode, he had had a hand-to-hand fight with a black bear, in the very room where we were sitting.  When he had built his log cabin, it was with the intention of taking to himself a wife.  At that time he courted the daughter of one of the old Arkansas settlers, and he wished to have “a place and a crop on foot” before he married.  The girl was killed by the fall of a tree, and Boone, in his sorrow, sent away the men whom he had hired to help him in “turning his field,” for he wished to be alone.

Months elapsed, and his crop of corn promised an abundant harvest; but he cared not.  He would take his rifle and remain sometimes for a month in the woods, brooding over his loss.  The season was far advanced, when, one day returning home, he perceived that the bears, the squirrels, and the deer had made rather free with the golden ears of his corn.  The remainder he resolved to save for the use of his horse, and as he wished to begin harvest next morning, he slept that night in the cabin, on his solitary pallet.  The heat was intense, and, as usual in these countries during summer, he had left his door wide open.

It was about midnight, when he heard something tumbling in the room; he rose in a moment, and, hearing a short and heavy breathing, he asked who it was, for the darkness was such, that he could not see two yards before him.  No answer being given, except a kind of half-smothered grunt, he advanced, and, putting out his hand, he seized the shaggy coat of a bear.  Surprise rendered him motionless, and the animal giving him a blow in the chest with his terrible paw, threw him down outside the door.  Boone could have escaped, but, maddened with the pain of his fall, he only thought of vengeance, and, seizing his knife and tomahawk, which were fortunately within his reach, he darted furiously at the beast, dealing blows at random.  Great as was his strength, his tomahawk could not penetrate through the thick coat of the animal, which, having encircled the body of his assailant with his paws, was pressing him in one of those deadly embraces which could only have been resisted by a giant like