The lad’s heart expanded, while along every nerve tingled an exquisite thrill of excitement.  He had yearned for wild, border life.  Here he was in it, with the hunter whose name alone was to the savages a symbol for all that was terrible.

Wetzel evidently decided quickly on what was to be done, for in few words he directed Joe to cut up so much of the buffalo meat as they could stow in their pockets.  Then, bidding the lad to follow, he turned into the woods, walking rapidly, and stopping now and then for a brief instant.  Soon they emerged from the forest into more open country.  They faced a wide plain skirted on the right by a long, winding strip of bright green willows which marked the course of the stream.  On the edge of this plain Wetzel broke into a run.  He kept this pace for a distance of an hundred yards, then stopped to listen intently as he glanced sharply on all sides, after which he was off again.

Half way across this plain Joe’s wind began to fail, and his breathing became labored; but he kept close to the hunter’s heels.  Once he looked back to see a great wide expanse of waving grass.  They had covered perhaps four miles at a rapid pace, and were nearing the other side of the plain.  The lad felt as if his head was about to burst; a sharp pain seized upon his side; a blood-red film obscured his sight.  He kept doggedly on, and when utterly exhausted fell to the ground.

When, a few minutes later, having recovered his breath, he got up, they had crossed the plain and were in a grove of beeches.  Directly in front of him ran a swift stream, which was divided at the rocky head of what appeared to be a wooded island.  There was only a slight ripple and fall of the water, and, after a second glance, it was evident that the point of land was not an island, but a portion of the mainland which divided the stream.  The branches took almost opposite courses.

Joe wondered if they had headed off the Indians.  Certainly they had run fast enough.  He was wet with perspiration.  He glanced at Wetzel, who was standing near.  The man’s broad breast rose and fell a little faster; that was the only evidence of exertion.  The lad had a painful feeling that he could never keep pace with the hunter, if this five-mile run was a sample of the speed he would be forced to maintain.

“They’ve got ahead of us, but which crick did they take?” queried Wetzel, as though debating the question with himself.

“How do you know they’ve passed?”

“We circled,” answered Wetzel, as he shook his head and pointed into the bushes.  Joe stepped over and looked into the thicket.  He found a quantity of dead leaves, sticks, and litter thrown aside, exposing to light a long, hollowed place on the ground.  It was what would be seen after rolling over a log that had lain for a long time.  Little furrows in the ground, holes, mounds, and curious winding passages showed where grubs and crickets had made their homes.  The frightened insects were now running round wildly.