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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 IndiansDelawares； I thinkcrossed 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
for hours。 I think he finds pleasure in the conversation and laughter of
friends。 He is fond of the children； and would do anything for my sister
Betty。〃
〃His life must be lonely and sad；〃 remarked Joe。
〃The life of any borderman is that； but Wetzel's is particularly so。〃
〃What is he called by the Indians？〃
〃They call him Atelang； or； in English； Deathwind。〃
〃By George！ That's what Silvertip said in French'Le Vent de la Mort。'〃
〃Yes； you have it right。 A French fur trader gave Wetzel that name years ago；
and it has clung to him。 The Indians say the Deathwind blows through the
forest whenever Wetzel stalks on their trail。〃
〃Colonel Zane； don't you think me superstitious；〃 whispered Joe； leaning
toward the colonel； 〃but I heard that wind blow through the forest。〃
〃What！〃 ejaculated Colonel Zane。 He saw that Joe was in earnest； for the
remembrance of the moan had more than once paled his cheek and caused beads of
perspiration to collect on his brow。
Joe related the circumstances of that night； and at the end of his narrative
Colonel Zane sat silent and thoughtful。
〃You don't really think it was Wetzel who moaned？〃 he asked； at length。
〃No； I don't；〃 replied Joe quickly； 〃but； Colonel Zane； I heard that moan as
plainly as I can hear your voice。 I heard it twice。 Now； what was it？〃
〃Jonathan said the same thing to me once。 He had been out hunting with Wetzel；
they separated； and during the night Jonathan heard the wind。 The next day he
ran across a dead Indian。 He believes Wetzel makes the noise； and so do the
hunters； but I think it is simply the moan of the night wind through the
trees。 I have heard it at times； when my very blood seemingly ran cold。〃
〃I tried to think it was the wind soughing through the pines； but am afraid I
didn't succeed very well。 Anyhow； I knew Wetzel instantly； just as Jeff Lynn
said I would。 He killed those Indians in an instant； and he must have an iron
arm。〃
〃Wetzel excels in strength and speed any man； red or white； on the frontier。
He can run away from Jonathan； who is as swift as an Indian。 He's stronger
than any of the other men。 I remember one day old Hugh Bennet's wagon wheels
stuck in a bog down by the creek。 Hugh tried； as several others did； to move
the wheels； but they couldn't be made to budge。 Along came Wetzel； pushed
away the men； and lifted the wagon unaided。 It would take hours to tell you
about him。 In brief； among all the border scouts and hunters Wetzel stands
alone。 No wonder the Indians fe