ventured too near the rifleman gave up their 

 lives, reddening the clear water with their life- 

 blood in vain. 



The lake was drained, and the colonists aban- 

 doned their homes. One night, a few days after 

 the final attempt to blockade the ditch, an unwill- 

 ing beaver emigrant party climbed silently out 

 of the uncovered entrance of their house and 

 made their way quietly, slowly, beneath the stars, 

 across the mountain, descending thence to Wind 

 River, where they founded a new colony. 



Winter came to the old lake-bed, and the lily 

 roots froze and died. The beaver houses rapidly 

 crumbled, and for a few years the picturesque 

 ruins of the beaver settlement, like many a set- 

 tlement abandoned by man, stood pathetically 

 in the midst of wilderness desolation. Slowly the 

 water rose to its old level in the lake, as the out- 

 let ditch gradually filled with swelling turf and 

 drifting sticks and trash. Then the lilies came 

 back with rafts of green and boats of gold to 

 enliven this lakelet of repose. 



One autumn morning, while returning to my 

 cabin after a night near the stars on Lily Moun- 

 182 



