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ten watching his every move。 Just now he could not see even a little red
squirrel。 Everywhere were sturdy hickory and oak trees； thickets and
hazelnuts； slender ash saplings； and； in the open glades； patches of sumach。
Rotting trees lay on the ground； while ferns nodded long； slender heads over
the fallen monarchs。 Joe could make out nothing but the colors of the woods；
the gray of the tree trunks； and； in the openings through the forest…green；
the dead purple haze of forests farther on。 He smiled； and； shaking his head
at the hunter； by his action admitted failure。
〃Try again。 Dead ahead；〃 whispered Wetzel。
Joe bent a direct gaze on the clump of sassafras one hundred feet ahead。 He
searched the open places； the shadowseven the branches。 Then he turned his
eyes slowly to the right。 Whatever was discernible to human vision he studied
intently。 Suddenly his eye became fixed on a small object protruding from
behind a beech tree。 It was pointed； and in color darker than the gray bark of
the beech。 It had been a very easy matter to pass over this little thing； but
now that the lad saw it； he knew to what it belonged。
〃That's a buck's ear；〃 he replied。
Hardly had he finished speaking when Wetzel intentionally snapped a twig。
There was a crash and commotion in the thicket； branches moved and small
saplings waved； then out into the open glade bounded a large buck with a
whistle of alarm。 Throwing his rifle to a level； Joe was trying to cover the
bounding deer； when the hunter struck up his piece。
〃Lad； don't kill fer the sake of killin；〃 he said； quietly。 〃We have plenty of
venison。 We'll go arter a buffalo。 I hev a hankerin' fer a good rump steak。〃
Half an hour later； the hunters emerged from the forest into a wide plain of
waving grass。 It was a kind of oval valley； encircled by hills； and had been
at one time； perhaps； covered with water。 Joe saw a herd of large animals
browsing； like cattle； in a meadow。 His heart beat high； for until that moment
the only buffalo he had seen were the few which stood on the river banks as
the raft passed down the Ohio。 He would surely get a shot at one of these huge
fellows。
Wetzel bade Joe do exactly as he did； whereupon he dropped on his hands and
knees and began to crawl through the long grass。 This was easy for the hunter；
but very bard for the lad to accomplish。 Still； he managed to keep his comrade
in sight； which was a matter for congratulation； because the man crawled as
fast as he walked。 At length； after what to Joe seemed a very long time； the
hunter paused。
〃Are we near enough？〃 whispered Joe； breathlessly。
〃Nope。 We're just circlin' on 'em。 The wind's not right； an' I'm afeered
they'll get our scent。〃
Wetzel rose carefully and peeped over the top of the grass； then； dropping on
all fours； he resumed the advance。
He paused again； presently and waited for Joe to come up。
〃See here； young fellar； remember； never hurry unless the bizness calls fer
speed； an' then act like lightnin'。〃
Thus admonishing the eager lad； Wetzel continued to crawl。 It was easy for
him。 Joe wondered how those wide shoulders got between the weeds and grasses
without breaking； or； at least； shaking them。 But so it was。
〃Flat now；〃 whispered Wetzel； putting his broad hand on Joe's back and
pressing him down。 〃Now's yer time fer good practice。 Trail yer rifle over yer
backif yer careful it won't slide offan' reach out far with one arm an'
dig yer fingers in deep。 Then pull yerself forrard。〃
Wetzel slipped through the grass like a huge buckskin snake。 His long； lithe
body wormed its way among the reeds。 But for Joe； even with the advantage of
having the hunter's trail to follow； it was difficult work。 The dry reeds
broke under him； and the stalks of saw…gass shook。 He worked persistently at
it； learning all the while； and improving with every rod。 He was surprised to
hear a swish； followed by a dull blow on the ground。 Raising his head； he
looked forward。 He saw the hunter wipe his tomahawk on the grass。
〃Snake；〃 whispered Wetzel。
Joe saw a huge blacksnake squirming in the grass。 Its head had been severed。
He caught glimpses of other snakes gliding away； and glossy round moles
darting into their holes。 A gray rabbit started off with a leap。
〃We're near enough；〃 whispered Wetzel； stopping behind a bush。 He rose and
surveyed the plain； then motioned Joe to look。
Joe raised himself on his knees。 As his gaze reached the level of the grassy
plain his heart leaped。 Not fifty yards away was a great； shaggy； black
buffalo。 He was the king of the herd； but ill at ease； for he pawed the grass
and shook his huge bead。 Near him were several cows and a half…grown calf。
Beyond was the main herd； extending as far as Joe could seea great sea of
black humps！ The lad breathed hard as he took in the grand sight。
〃Pick out the little fellarthe reddish…brown onean' plug him behind the
shoulder。 Shoot close now； fer if we miss； mebbe I can't hit one； because I'm
not used to shootin' at sich small marks。〃
Wetzel's rare smile lighted up his dark face。 Probably he could have shot a
fly off the horn of the bull； if one of the big flies or bees； plainly visible
as they swirled around the huge head； had alighted there。
Joe slowly raised his rifle。 He had covered the calf； and was about to pull
the trigger； when； with a sagacity far beyond his experience as hunter； he
whispered to Wetzel：
〃If I fire they may run toward us。〃
〃Nope； they'll run away；〃 answered Wetzel； thinking the lad was as keen as an
Indian。
Joe quickly covered the calf again； and pulled the trigger。 Bellowing loud the
big bull dashed off。 The herd swung around toward the west； and soon were
galloping off with a lumbering roar。 The shaggy humps bobbed up and down like
hot； angry waves on a storm…blackened sea。
Upon going forward； Wetzel and Joe found the calf lying dead in the grass。
〃You might hev did better'n that；〃 remarked the hunter； as he saw where the
bullet had struck。 〃You went a little too fer back； but mebbe thet was 'cause
the calf stepped as you shot。〃
Chapter XV。
So the days passed swiftly； dreamily； each one bringing Joe a keener delight。
In a single month he was as good a woodsman as many pioneers who had passed
years on the border； for he had the advantage of a teacher whose woodcraft was
incomparable。 Besides； he was naturally quick in learning； and with all his
interest centered upon forest lore； it was no wonder he assimilated much of
Wetzel's knowledge。 He was ever willing to undertake anything whereby he might
learn。 Often when they were miles away in the dense forest； far from their
cave； he asked Wetzel to let him try to lead the way back to camp。 And he
never failed once； though many times he got off a straight course； thereby
missing the easy travelling。
Joe did wonderfully well； but he lacked； as nearly all white men do； the
subtler； intuitive forest…instinct； which makes the Indian as much at home in
the woods as in his teepee。 Wetzel had this developed to a high degree。 It
was born in him。 Years of training； years of passionate； unrelenting search
for Indians； had given him a knowledge of the wilds that was incomprehensible
to white men； and appalling to his red foes。
Joe saw how Wetzel used this ability； but what it really was baffled him。 He
realized that words were not adequate to explain fully this great art。 Its
possession required a marvelously keen vision； an eye perfectly familiar with
every creature； tree； rock； shrub and thing belonging in the forest； an eye so
quick in flight as to detect instantly the slightest change in nature； or
anything unnatural to that environment。 The hearing must be delicate； like
that of a deer； and the finer it is； the keener will be the woodsman。 Lastly；
there is the feeling that prompts the old hunter to say： 〃No game to…day。〃 It
is something in him that speaks when； as he sees a night…hawk circling low
near the ground； he says： 〃A storm to…morrow。〃 It is what makes an Indian at
home in any wilderness。 The clouds may hide the guiding star； the northing may
be lost； there may be no moss on the trees； or difference in their bark； the
ridges may be flat or lost altogether； and there may be no water…courses； yet
the Indian brave always goes for his teepee； straight as a crow flies。 It was
this voice which rightly bade Wetzel； when he was baffled by an Indian's trail
fading among the rocks； to cross； or circle； or advance in the direction taken
by his wily foe。
Joe had practiced trailing deer and other hoofed game； until he was true as a
hound。 Then he began to perfect himself in the art of following a human being
through the forest。 Except a few old Indian trails； which the rain had half
obliterated； he had no tracks to discover save Wetzel's； and these were as
hard to find as the airy course of a grosbeak