Making his way behind a well-screened tree, which had been uprooted,
he selected a position where, hidden themselves, they could see the
creek.
Hardly had Wetzel, admonished Joe to lie perfectly still, when from
a short distance up the stream came the sound of splashing water;
but nothing could be seen above the open glade, as in that direction
willows lined the creek in dense thickets. The noise grew more
audible.
Suddenly Joe felt a muscular contraction pass over the powerful
frame lying close beside him. It was a convulsive thrill such as
passes through a tiger when he is about to spring upon his quarry.
So subtle and strong was its meaning, so clearly did it convey to
the lad what was coming, that he felt it himself; save that in his
case it was a cold, chill shudder.
Breathless suspense followed. Then into the open space along the
creek glided a tall Indian warrior. He was knee-deep in the water,
where he waded with low, cautious steps. His garish, befrilled
costume seemed familiar to Joe. He carried a rifle at a low trail,
and passed slowly ahead with evident distrust. The lad believed he
recognized that head, with its tangled black hair, and when he saw
the swarthy, villainous countenance turned full toward him, he
exclaimed:
"Girty! by---"
Wetzel's powerful arm forced him so hard against the log that he
could not complete the exclamation; but he could still see.
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