"Is Fort Henry near the Indian towns?" asked Joe.
"There's Delawares, Shawnees and Hurons all along the Ohio below Fort Henry."

"Where is the Moravian Mission located?"
"Why, lad, the Village of Peace, as the Injuns call it, is right in the midst

of that Injun country. I 'spect it's a matter of a hundred miles below and
cross-country a little from Fort Henry."

"The fort must be an important point, is it not?"
"Wal, I guess so. It's the last place on the river," answered Lynn, with a

grim smile. "There's only a stockade there, an' a handful of men. The Injuns
hev swarmed down on it time and ag'in, but they hev never burned it. Only

such men as Colonel Zane, his brother Jack, and Wetzel could hev kept that
fort standin' all these bloody years. Eb Zane's got but a few men, yet he kin

handle 'em some, an' with such scouts as Jack Zane and Wetzel, he allus knows
what's goin' on among the Injuns."

"I've heard of Colonel Zane. He was an officer under Lord Dunmore. The hunters
here speak often of Jack Zane and Wetzel. What are they?"

"Jack Zane is a hunter an' guide. I knowed him well a few years back. He's a
quiet, mild chap; but a streak of chain-lightnin' when he's riled. Wetzel is

an Injun-killer. Some people say as how he's crazy over scalp-huntin'; but I
reckon that's not so. I've seen him a few times. He don't hang round the

settlement 'cept when the Injuns are up, an' nobody sees him much. At home he
sets round silent-like, an' then mebbe next mornin' he'll be gone, an' won't

show up fer days or weeks. But all the frontier knows of his deeds. Fer
instance, I've hearn of settlers gettin' up in the mornin' an' findin' a

couple of dead and scalped Injuns right in front of their cabins. No one
knowed who killed 'em, but everybody says 'Wetzel.' He's allus warnin' the

settlers when they need to flee to the fort, and sure he's right every time,
because when these men go back to their cabins they find nothin' but ashes.

There couldn't be any farmin' done out there but fer Wetzel."
"What does he look like?" questioned Joe, much interested.

"Wetzel stands straight as the oak over thar. He'd hev' to go sideways to git
his shoulders in that door, but he's as light of foot an' fast as a deer. An'

his eyes--why, lad, ye kin hardly look into 'em. If you ever see Wetzel you'll
know him to onct."

"I want to see him," Joe spoke quickly, his eyes lighting with an eager flash.
"He must be a great fighter."

"Is he? Lew Wetzel is the heftiest of 'em all, an' we hev some as kin fight
out here. I was down the river a few years ago and joined a party to go out

an' hunt up some redskins as had been reported. Wetzel was with us. We soon
struck Injun sign, and then come on to a lot of the pesky varmints. We was all

fer goin' home, because we had a small force. When we started to go we finds
Wetzel sittin' calm-like on a log. We said: 'Ain't ye goin' home?' and he

replied, 'I cum out to find redskins, an' now as we've found 'em, I'm not
goin' to run away.' An' we left him settin' thar. Oh, Wetzel is a fighter!"

"I hope I shall see him," said Joe once more, the warm light, which made him
look so boyish, still glowing in his face.

"Mebbe ye'll git to; and sure ye'll see redskins, an' not tame ones, nuther."
At this moment the sound of excited voices near the cabins broke in on the

conversation. Joe saw several persons run toward the large cabin and disappear
behind it. He smiled as he thought perhaps the commotion had been caused by

the awakening of the Indian brave.
Rising to his feet, Joe went toward the cabin, and soon saw the cause of the

excitement. A small crowd of men and women, all laughing and talking,
surrounded the Indian brave and the little stout fellow. Joe heard some one

groan, and then a deep, guttural voice:
"Paleface--big steal--ugh! Injun mad--heap mad--kill paleface."

After elbowing his way into the group, Joe saw the Indian holding Loorey with
one hand, while he poked him on the ribs with the other. The captive's face

was the picture of dismay; even the streaks of paint did not hide his look of
fear and bewilderment. The poor half-witted fellow was so badly frightened

that he could only groan.
"Silvertip scalp paleface. Ugh!" growled the savage, giving Loorey another

blow on the side. This time he bent over in pain. The bystanders were divided
in feeling; the men laughed, while the women murmured sympathetically.

"This's not a bit funny," muttered Joe, as he pushed his way nearly to the
middle of the crowd. Then he stretched out a long arm that, bare and brawny,

looked as though it might have been a blacksmith's, and grasped the Indian's
sinewy wrist with a force that made him loosen his hold on Loorey instantly.

"I stole the shirt--fun--joke," said Joe. "Scalp me if you want to scalp
anyone."

The Indian looked quickly at the powerful form before him. With a twist he
slipped his arm from Joe's grasp.

"Big paleface heap fun--all squaw play," he said, scornfully. There was a
menace in his somber eyes as he turned abruptly and left the group.

"I'm afraid you've made an enemy," said Jake Wentz to Joe. "An Indian never
forgets an insult, and that's how he regarded your joke. Silvertip has been

friendly here because he sells us his pelts. He's a Shawnee chief. There he
goes through the willows!"

By this time Jim and Mr. Wells, Mrs. Wentz and the girls had joined the group.
They all watched Silvertip get into his canoe and paddle away.

"A bad sign," said Wentz, and then, turning to Jeff Lynn, who joined the party
at that moment, he briefly explained the circumstances.

"Never did like Silver. He's a crafty redskin, an' not to be trusted," replied
Jeff.

"He has turned round and is looking back," Nell said quickly.
"So he has," observed the fur-trader.

The Indian was now several hundred yards down the swift river, and for an
instant had ceased paddling. The sun shone brightly on his eagle plumes. He

remained motionless for a moment, and even at such a distance the dark,
changeless face could be discerned. He lifted his hand and shook it

menacingly.
"If ye don't hear from that redskin agin Jeff Lynn don't know nothin'," calm

said the old frontiersman.
Chapter IV.

As the rafts drifted with the current the voyagers saw the settlers on the
landing-place diminish until they had faded from indistinct figures to mere

black specks against the green background. Then came the last wave of a white
scarf, faintly in the distance, and at length the dark outline of the fort was

all that remained to their regretful gaze. Quickly that, too, disappeared
behind the green hill, which, with its bold front, forces the river to take a

wide turn.
The Ohio, winding in its course between high, wooded bluffs, rolled on and on

into the wilderness.
Beautiful as was the ever-changing scenery, rugged gray-faced cliffs on one

side contrasting with green-clad hills on the other, there hovered over land
and water something more striking than beauty. Above all hung a still

atmosphere of calmness--of loneliness.
And this penetrating solitude marred somewhat the pleasure which might have

been found in the picturesquescenery, and caused the voyagers, to whom this
country was new, to take less interest in the gaily-feathered birds and

stealthy animals that were to be seen on the way. By the forms of wild life
along the banks of the river, this strange intruder on their peace was

regarded with attention. The birds and beasts evinced little fear of the
floating rafts. The sandhill crane, stalking along the shore, lifted his long

neck as the unfamiliar thing came floating by, and then stood still and silent
as a statue until the rafts disappeared from view. Blue-herons feeding along

the bars, saw the unusualspectacle, and, uttering surprised "booms," they
spread wide wings and lumbered away along the shore. The crows circled above

the voyagers, cawing in not unfriendly excitement. Smaller birds alighted on
the raised poles, and several--a robin, a catbird and a little brown

wren--ventured with hesitating boldness to peck at the crumbs the girls threw
to them. Deer waded knee-deep in the shallow water, and, lifting their heads,

instantly became motionless and absorbed. Occasionally a buffalo appeared on a
level stretch of bank, and, tossing his huge head, seemed inclined to resent

the coming of this stranger into his domain.
All day the rafts drifted steadily and swiftly down the river, presenting to

the little party ever-varying pictures of denselywooded hills, of jutting,
broken cliffs with scant evergreen growth; of long reaches of sandy bar that

glistened golden in the sunlight, and over all the flight and call of