"Grey, Zane - Betty Zane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

his keen eyes on that tree and presently a dark object glided from it and
darted stealthily forward to another tree. One, two, three dark forms followed
the first one. They were Indian warriors, and they moved so quickly that only
the eyes of a woodsman like Wetzel could have discerned their movements at
that distance.

Probably most hunters would have taken to their heels while there was yet
time. The thought did not occur to Wetzel. He slowly raised the hammer of his
rifle. As the Indians came into plain view he saw they did not suspect his
presence, but were returning on the trail in their customary cautious manner.

When the first warrior reached a big oak tree some two hundred yards distant,
the long, black barrel of the hunter's rifle began slowly, almost
imperceptibly, to rise, and as it reached a level the savage stepped forward
from the tree. With the sharp report of the weapon he staggered and fell.

Wetzel sprang up and knowing that his only escape was in rapid flight, with
his well known yell, he bounded off at the top of his speed. The remaining
Indians discharged their guns at the fleeing, dodging figure, but without
effect. So rapidly did he dart in and out among the trees that an effectual
aim was impossible. Then, with loud yells, the Indians, drawing their
tomahawks, started in pursuit, expecting soon to overtake their victim.

In the early years of his Indian hunting, Wetzel had perfected himself in a
practice which had saved his life many tunes, and had added much to his fame.
He could reload his rifle while running at topmost speed. His extraordinary
fleetness enabled him to keep ahead of his pursuers until his rifle was
reloaded. This trick he now employed. Keeping up his uneven pace until his gun
was ready, he turned quickly and shot the nearest Indian dead in his tracks.
The next Indian had by this time nearly come up with him and close enough to
throw his tomahawk, which whizzed dangerously near Wetzel's head. But he
leaped forward again and soon his rifle was reloaded. Every time he looked
around the Indians treed, afraid to face his unerring weapon. After running a
mile or more in this manner, he reached an open space in the woods where he
wheeled suddenly on his pursuers. The foremost Indian jumped behind a tree,
but, as it did not entirely screen his body, he, too, fell a victim to the
hunter's aim. The Indian must have been desperately wounded, for his companion
now abandoned the chase and went to his assistance. Together they disappeared
in the forest.

Wetzel, seeing that he was no longer pursued, slackened his pace and proceeded
thoughtfully toward the settlement.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That same day, several hours after Wetzel's departure in quest of the turkey,
Alfred Clarke strolled over from the fort and found Colonel Zane in the yard.
The Colonel was industriously stirring the contents of a huge copper kettle
which swung over a brisk wood fire. The honeyed fragrance of apple-butter
mingled with the pungent odor of burning hickory.