Then,
seeing Joe's head covered with blood, he continued: "Able to get
up?"
"I'm not hurt," answered Joe, rising when his bonds had been cut.
"Brothers, I reckon?" Wetzel said, bending over Jim.
"Yes, we're brothers. Wake up, Jim, wake up! We're saved!"
"What? Who's that?" cried Jim, sitting up and staring at Wetzel.
"This man has saved our lives! See, Jim, the Indians are dead! And,
Jim, it's Wetzel, the hunter. You remember, Jeff Lynn said I'd know
him if I ever saw him and---"
"What happened to Jeff?" inquired Wetzel, interrupting. He had
turned from Jim's grateful face.
"Jeff was on the first raft, and for all we know he is now safe at
Fort Henry. Our steersman was shot, and we were captured."
"Has the Shawnee anythin' ag'inst you boys?"
"Why, yes, I guess so. I played a joke on him--took his shirt and
put it on another fellow."
"Might jes' as well kick an' Injun. What has he ag'in you?"
"I don't know. Perhaps he did not like my talk to him," answered
Jim. "I am a preacher, and have come west to teach the gospel to the
Indians."
"They're good Injuns now," said Wetzel, pointing to the prostrate
figures.
"How did you find us?" eagerly asked Joe.
"Run acrost yer trail two days back."
"And you've been following us?"
The hunter nodded.
"Did you see anything of another band of Indians? A tall chief and
Jim Girty were among them.
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