“Fell in from the top!” The scout looked at the thick top of the tree. “Well, this must be investigated!” He began to climb the tree, using his lariat to aid him, looping it around the tree and around his body, thus assisting himself materially in making the ascent. He climbed rapidly in this way, and was soon in the lower branches. The voice continued to call, sometimes sounding loud and clear, and then almost falling, or seeming to fall, to shrill whispers. He fancied these changes were due to the wind that roared through the top of the tree, carrying the sound first one way and then another. In a very short time he was in the matted top of the oak, hanging over the cañon. Then, to his amazement, he saw before him a large hole, such as a bear might have used. The calls were coming from this hole. He looked into it, but the hole was black as pitch, and he could see nothing. However, the words of the person down in it seemed now to be shot at him as if from the muzzle of a gun. “Help! H-e-l-p! H-e-l-p! I’m in the tree; and I----” “Yes--yes! I’m here to help you. How far down are you? I can’t see you.” “Something’s stoppin’ up the hole now; it’s a bear mebbe! Help! H-e-l-p!” “I am shutting the light out, I suppose. I want to help you. If I lower my lariat can you get hold of it? Then perhaps I can pull you out, or assist you to get out.” The calls changed in their character; the person in the tree had become aware that some one was at the opening, and that this some one was proffering assistance. “Drap yer rope, then!” the voice shrieked. “I kin climb it, mebbe.” The scout lowered the noose end of his lariat into the hole. “Just place the noose under your arms,” he instructed, “and I can help you out.” He felt the rope jerked, and then the voice shouted: “All O. K. down here; now h’ist away. You’re a stranger, but a friend in need; and a friend in need is wuth a dozen angels any day o’ the week!” Buffalo Bill began to haul on the rope, and was instantly aware that the individual in the tree was ascending. There was much scratching, sputtering, and fussing, and many singular exclamations; but slowly the tree prisoner ascended. Then the scout beheld the top of a head, surmounted by a queer hat, or bonnet; so that, at that first glance, he thought he had an Indian in the loop of the lariat. However, when the neck and shoulders, and then the body of the prisoner appeared, he saw that he had drawn a woman out of the tree. The fact was amazing, and this woman was as singular a creature as he had ever seen: being a tall, raw-boned, awkward female, with a vinegary countenance, and features as homely as if they had been copied from some comic monthly.