An evidence of Wetzel’s strange nature, and of his love for this wild home, manifested itself when he bound Joe to secrecy.  It was unlikely, even if the young man ever did get safely out of the wilderness, that any stories he might relate would reveal the hunter’s favorite rendezvous.  But Wetzel seriously demanded this secrecy, as earnestly as if the forest were full of Indians and white men, all prowling in search of his burrow.

Joe was in the seventh heaven of delight, and took to the free life as a wild gosling takes to the water.  No place had ever appealed to him as did this dark, silent hole far up on the side of a steep cliff.  His interest in Wetzel soon passed into a great admiration, and from that deepened to love.

This afternoon, when they were satisfied that all was well within their refuge, Joe laid aside his rifle, and, whistling softly, began to prepare supper.  The back part of the cave permitted him to stand erect, and was large enough for comparative comfort.  There was a neat, little stone fireplace, and several cooking utensils and gourds.  From time to time Wetzel had brought these things.  A pile of wood and a bundle of pine cones lay in one corner.  Haunches of dried beef, bear and buffalo meat hung from pegs; a bag of parched corn, another of dried apples lay on a rocky shelf.  Nearby hung a powder-horn filled with salt and pepper.  In the cleft back of the cave was a spring of clear, cold water.

The wants of woodsmen are few and simple.  Joe and Wetzel, with appetites whetted by their stirring outdoor life, relished the frugal fare as they could never have enjoyed a feast.  As the shadows of evening entered the cave, they lighted their pipes to partake of the hunter’s sweetest solace, a quiet smoke.

Strange as it may appear, this lonely, stern Indian-hunter and the reckless, impulsive boy were admirably suited for companionship.  Wetzel had taken a liking to the young man when he led the brothers to Fort Henry.  Subsequent events strengthened his liking, and now, many days after, Joe having followed him into the forest, a strong attachment had been insensibly forged between them.

Wetzel understood Joe’s burning desire to roam the forests; but he half expected the lad would soon grow tired of this roving life, but exactly the opposite symptoms were displayed.  The hunter had intended to take his comrade on a hunting trip, and to return with him, after that was over, to Fort Henry.  They had now been in the woods for weeks and every day in some way had Joe showed his mettle.  Wetzel finally admitted him into the secrets of his most cherished hiding place.  He did not want to hurt the lad’s feelings by taking him back to the settlement; he could not send him back.  So the days wore on swiftly; full of heart-satisfying incident and life, with man and boy growing closer in an intimacy that was as warm as it was unusual.