and Joe laughed fiercely between his teeth.
The lad's heart expanded, while along every nerve tingled an exquisitethrill

of excitement. He had yearned for wild, border life. Here he was in it, with
the hunter whose name alone was to the savages a symbol for all that was

terrible.
Wetzel evidently" target="_blank" title="ad.明显地">evidentlydecided quickly on what was to be done, for in few words he

directed Joe to cut up so much of the buffalo meat as they could stow in their
pockets. Then, bidding the lad to follow, he turned into the woods, walking

rapidly, and stopping now and then for a brief instant. Soon they emerged from
the forest into more open country. They faced a wide plain skirted on the

right by a long, winding strip of bright green willows which marked the course
of the stream. On the edge of this plain Wetzel broke into a run. He kept this

pace for a distance of an hundred yards, then stopped to listen intently as he
glanced sharply on all sides, after which he was off again.

Half way across this plain Joe's wind began to fail, and his breathing became
labored; but he kept close to the hunter's heels. Once he looked back to see a

great wide expanse of waving grass. They had covered perhaps four miles at a
rapid pace, and were nearing the other side of the plain. The lad felt as if

his head was about to burst; a sharp pain seized upon his side; a blood-red
film obscured his sight. He kept doggedly on, and when utterly exhausted fell

to the ground.
When, a few minutes later, having recovered his breath, he got up, they had

crossed the plain and were in a grove of beeches. Directly in front of him ran
a swift stream, which was divided at the rocky head of what appeared to be a

wooded island. There was only a slight ripple and fall of the water, and,
after a second glance, it was evident that the point of land was not an

island, but a portion of the mainland which divided the stream. The branches
took almost opposite courses.

Joe wondered if they had headed off the Indians. Certainly they had run fast
enough. He was wet with perspiration. He glanced at Wetzel, who was standing

near. The man's broad breast rose and fell a little faster; that was the only
evidence of exertion. The lad had a painful feeling that he could never keep

pace with the hunter, if this five-mile run was a sample of the speed he would
be forced to maintain.

"They've got ahead of us, but which crick did they take?" queried Wetzel, as
though debating the question with himself.

"How do you know they've passed?"
"We circled," answered Wetzel, as he shook his head and pointed into the

bushes. Joe stepped over and looked into the thicket. He found a quantity of
dead leaves, sticks, and litter thrown aside, exposing to light a long,

hollowed place on the ground. It was what would be seen after rolling over a
log that had lain for a long time. Little furrows in the ground, holes,

mounds, and curious winding passages showed where grubs and crickets had made
their homes. The frightened insects were now running round wildly.

"What was here? A log?"
"A twenty-foot canoe was hid under thet stuff. The Injuns has taken one of

these streams."
"How can we tell which one?"

"Mebbe we can't; but we'll try. Grab up a few of them bugs, go below thet
rocky point, an' crawl close to the bank so you can jest peep over. Be

keerful not to show the tip of your head, an' don't knock nothin' off'en the
bank into the water. Watch fer trout. Look everywheres, an' drop in a bug now

and then. I'll do the same fer the other stream. Then we'll come back here an'
talk over what the fish has to say about the Injuns."

Joe walked down stream a few paces, and, dropping on his knees, crawled
carefully to the edge of the bank. He slightly parted the grass so he could

peep through, and found himself directly over a pool with a narrow shoal
running out from the opposite bank. The water was so clear he could see the

pebbly bottom in all parts, except a dark hole near a bend in the shore close
by. He did not see a living thing in the water, not a crawfish, turtle, nor

even a frog. He peered round closely, then flipped in one of the bugs he had
brought along. A shiny yellow fish flared up from the depths of the deep hole

and disappeared with the cricket; but it was a bass or a pike, not a trout.
Wetzel had said there were a few trout living near the cool springs of these

streams. The lad tried again to coax one to the surface. This time the more
fortunate cricket swam and hopped across the stream to safety.

When Joe's eyes were thoroughly accustomed to the clear water, with its
deceiving lights and shades, he saw a fish lying snug under the side of a

stone. The lad thought he recognized the snub-nose, the hooked, wolfish jaw,
but he could not get sufficient of a view to classify him. He crawled to a

more advantageous position farther down stream, and then he peered again
through the woods. Yes, sure enough, he had espied a trout. He well knew those

spotted silver sides, that broad, square tail. Such a monster! In his
admiration for the fellow, and his wish for a hook and line to try conclusions

with him, Joe momentarily forgot his object. Remembering, he tossed out a big,
fat cricket, which alighted on the water just above the fish. The trout never

moved, nor even blinked. The lad tried again, with no better success. The fish
would not rise. Thereupon Joe returned to the point where he had left WetzeL

"I couldn't see nothin' over there," said the hunter, who was waiting. "Did
you see any?'

"One, and a big fellow."
"Did he see you?"

"No."
"Did he rise to a bug?"

"No, he didn't; but then maybe he wasn't hungry" answered Joe, who could not
understand what Wetzel was driving at.

"Tell me exactly what he did."
"That's just the trouble; he didn't do anything," replied Joe, thoughtfully.

"He just lay low, stifflike, under a stone. He never batted an eye. But his
side-fins quivered like an aspen leaf."

"Them side-fins tell us the story. Girty, an' his redskins hev took this
branch," said Wetzel, positively. "The other leads to the Huron towns.

Girty's got a place near the Delaware camp somewheres. I've tried to find it a
good many times. He's took more'n one white lass there, an' nobody ever seen

her agin."
"Fiend! To think of a white woman, maybe a girl like Nell Wells, at the mercy

of those red devils!"
"Young fellar, don't go wrong. I'll allow Injuns is bad enough; but I never

hearn tell of one abusin' a white woman, as mayhap you mean. Injuns marry
white women sometimes; kill an' scalp 'em often, but that's all. It's men of

our own color, renegades like this Girty, as do worse'n murder."
Here was the amazing circumstance of Lewis Wetzel, the acknowledged unsatiable

foe of all redmen, speaking a good word for his enemies. Joe was so
astonished he did not attempt to answer.

"Here's where they got in the canoe. One more look, an' then we're off," said
Wetzel. He strode up and down the sandy beach; examined the willows, and

scrutinized the sand. Suddenly he bent over and picked up an object from the
water. His sharp eyes had caught the glint of something white, which, upon

being examined, proved to be a small ivory or bone buckle with a piece broken
out. He showed it to Joe.

"By heavens! Wetzel, that's a buckle off Nell Well's shoe. I've seen it too
many times to mistake it."

"I was afeared Girty hed your friends, the sisters, an' mebbe your brother,
too. Jack Zane said the renegade was hangin' round the village, an' that

couldn't be fer no good."
"Come on. Let's kill the fiend!" cried Joe, white to the lips.

"I calkilate they're about a mile down stream, makin' camp fer the night. I
know the place. There's a fine spring, an, look! D'ye see them crows flyin'

round thet big oak with the bleached top? Hear them cawin'? You might think
they was chasin' a hawk, or king-birds were arter 'em, but thet fuss they're

makin' is because they see Injuns."
"Well?" asked Joe, impatiently.

"It'll be moonlight a while arter midnight. Well lay low an' wait, an'
then---"

The sharp click of his teeth, like the snap of a steel trap, completed the
sentence. Joe said no more, but followed the hunter into the woods. Stopping

near a fallen tree, Wetzel raked up a bundle of leaves and spread them on the
ground. Then he cut a few spreading branches from a beech, and leaned them