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The Spirit of the Border-Part10_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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He went into the cabin, and presently came out with a long object wrapped in

linsey cloths. Unwinding the coverings, he brought to view a rifle, the



proportions of which caused Jonathan's eyes to glisten, and brought an

exclamation from Colonel Zane. Wetzel balanced the gun in his hands. It was



fully six feet long; the barrel was large, and the dark steel finely polished;

the stock was black walnut, ornamented with silver trimmings. Using Jonathan's



powder-flask and bullet-pouch, Wetzel proceeded to load the weapon. He poured

out a quantity of powder into the palm of his hand, performing the action



quickly and dexterously, but was so slow while measuring it that Joe wondered

if he were counting the grains. Next he selected a bullet out of a dozen which



Jonathan held toward him. He examined it carefully and tried it in the muzzle

of the rifle. Evidently it did not please him, for he took another. Finally he



scraped a bullet with his knife, and placing it in the center of a small

linsey rag, deftly forced it down. He adjusted the flint, dropped a few grains



of powder in the pan, and then looked around for a mark at which to shoot.

Joe observed that the hunters and Colonel Zane were as serious regarding the



work as if at that moment some important issue depended upon the accuracy of

the rifle.



"There, Lew; there's a good shot. It's pretty far, even for you, when you

don't know the gun," said Colonel Zane, pointing toward the river.



Joe saw the end of a log, about the size of a man's head, sticking out of the

water, perhaps an hundred and fifty yards distant. He thought to hit it would



be a fine shot; but was amazed when he heard Colonel Zane say to several men

who had joined the group that Wetzel intended to shoot at a turtle on the log.



By straining his eyes Joe succeeded in distinguishing a small lump, which he

concluded was the turtle.



Wetzel took a step forward; the long, black rifle was raised with a stately

sweep. The instant it reached a level a thread of flame burst forth, followed



by a peculiarly clear, ringing report.

"Did he hit?" asked Colonel Zane, eagerly as a boy.



"I allow he did," answered Jonathan.

"I'll go and see," said Joe. He ran down the bank, along the beach, and



stepped on the log. He saw a turtle about the size of an ordinary saucer.

Picking it up, he saw a bullet-hole in the shell near the middle. The bullet



had gone through the turtle, and it was quite dead. Joe carried it to the

waiting group.



"I allowed so," declared Jonathan.

Wetzel examined the turtle, and turning to the old missionary, said:



"Your brother spoke the truth, an' I thank you fer the rifle."

Chapter VIII.



"So you want to know all about Wetzel?" inquired Colonel Zane of Joe, when,

having left Jim and Mr. Wells, they returned to the cabin.



"I am immensely interested in him," replied Joe.

"Well, I don't think there's anything singular in that. I know Wetzel better,



perhaps, than any man living; but have seldom talked about him. He doesn't

like it. He is by birth a Virginian; I should say, forty years old. We were



boys together, and and I am a little beyond that age. He was like any of the

lads, except that he excelled us all in strength and agility. When he was



nearly eighteen years old a band if Indians--Delawares, I think--crossed the

border on a marauding expedition far into Virginia. They burned the old Wetzel



homestead and murdered the father, mother, two sisters, and a baby brother.

The terrible shock nearly killed Lewis, who for a time was very ill. When he



recovered he went in search of his brothers, Martin and John Wetzel, who were

hunting, and brought them back to their desolated home. Over the ashes of the



home and the graves of the loved ones the brothers swore sleepless and eternal

vengeance. The elder brothers have been devoted all these twenty years and



more to the killing of Indians; but Lewis has been the great foe of the

redman. You have already seen an example of his deeds, and will hear of more.



His name is a household word on the border. Scores of times he has saved,

actually saved, this fort and settlement. His knowledge of savage ways



surpasses by far Boone's, Major McColloch's, Jonathan's, or any of the

hunters'."



"Then hunting Indians is his sole occupation?"

"He lives for that purpose alone. He is very seldom in the settlement.



Sometimes he stays here a few days, especially if he is needed; but usually he

roams the forests."



"What did Jeff Lynn mean when he said that some people think Wetzel is crazy?"

"There are many who think the man mad; but I do not. When the passion for



Indian hunting comes upon him he is fierce, almost frenzied, yet perfectly

sane. While here he is quiet, seldom speaks except when spoken to, and is



taciturn with strangers. He often comes to my cabin and sits beside the fire




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