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Updated: June 12, 2025
Clarke and the other men were almost as prompt. "Wetzel, run to the south wall. The Indians are cutting a hole through the fence." Wetzel turned, grabbed his rifle and an axe and was gone like a flash. "Sullivan, you handle the men here. Bessie, do what you can for this brave lad. Come, Bennet, Clarke, we must follow Wetzel," commanded Silas. Mrs. Zane hastened to the side of the fainting lad.
He's up to some bad work, but I can't make out what. One thing, I never seen his trail so near Fort Henry." They emerged at length into a more open forest which skirted the river. At a point still some distance ahead, but plainly in sight, two small islands rose out of the water. "Hist! What's that?" whispered Wetzel, slipping his hand in Jonathan's arm.
"Miller, will you take a shot for the first prize, which I was about to award to Jonathan?" said Col. Zane. "No. I am a little late, and not entitled to a shot. I will take a try for the others," answered Miller. At the arrival of Miller on the scene Wetzel had changed his position to one nearer the crowd. The dog, Tige, trotted closely at his heels.
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.
Wetzel stuck close to the trail all that day and an hour before dusk he heard the sharp crack of a rifle. A moment afterward a doe came crashing through the thicket to Wetzel's right and bounding across a little brook she disappeared. A tree with a bushy, leafy top had been uprooted by a storm and had fallen across the stream at this point. Wetzel crawled among the branches.
The bordermen tightened their belts, replaced their leggings, tied their hunting coats, loosened their hatchets, looked to the priming of their rifles, and were ready. Wetzel walked twenty paces and turned. His face was white in the moonlight; his dark eyes softened into a look of love as he gripped his comrade's outstretched hand.
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.
"I calkilate it's a real turkey," answered the hunter, and motioning the lad to stay behind, he shouldered his rifle and passed swiftly down the path. Of all the Wetzel family a family noted from one end of the frontier to the other Lewis was as the most famous.
"None, unless it is that I love her and I will go for her," answered Alfred desperately. "Stand back!" cried Wetzel, placing his powerful hard on Clarke's breast and pushing him backward. "If you love her you don't want to have her wait here for them red devils," and he waved his hand toward the river. "If she gets back she'll save the Fort. If she fails she'll at least escape Girty."
"They're thar," said Wetzel grimly. "How far from here?" "A half-hour's slow crawl." "Close by?" hissed Jonathan. "Too near fer you to get excited." "Let us go; it's as light now as in the gray of mornin'." "Mornin' would be best. Injuns get sleepy along towards day. I've ever found thet time the best. But we'll be lucky if we ketch these redskins asleep." "Lew, I can't wait here all night.
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