At home he sets round
silent-like, an' then mebbe next mornin' he'll be gone, an' won't
show up fer days or weeks. But all the frontier knows of his deeds.
Fer instance, I've hearn of settlers gettin' up in the mornin' an'
findin' a couple of dead and scalped Injuns right in front of their
cabins. No one knowed who killed 'em, but everybody says 'Wetzel.'
He's allus warnin' the settlers when they need to flee to the fort,
and sure he's right every time, because when these men go back to
their cabins they find nothin' but ashes. There couldn't be any
farmin' done out there but fer Wetzel."
"What does he look like?" questioned Joe, much interested.
"Wetzel stands straight as the oak over thar. He'd hev' to go
sideways to git his shoulders in that door, but he's as light of
foot an' fast as a deer. An' his eyes--why, lad, ye kin hardly look
into 'em. If you ever see Wetzel you'll know him to onct."
"I want to see him," Joe spoke quickly, his eyes lighting with an
eager flash. "He must be a great fighter."
"Is he? Lew Wetzel is the heftiest of 'em all, an' we hev some as
kin fight out here. I was down the river a few years ago and joined
a party to go out an' hunt up some redskins as had been reported.
Wetzel was with us. We soon struck Injun sign, and then come on to a
lot of the pesky varmints.
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