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Another Indian rose quickly； and glanced furtively around the glade。 He bent
over a comrade and shook him。 Instantly the second Indian was on his feet。
Scarcely had he gained a standing posture when an object； bounding like a dark
ball； shot out of the thicket and hurled both warriors to the earth。 A
moonbeam glinted upon something bright。 It flashed again on a swift； sweeping
circle。 A short； choking yell aroused the other savages。 Up they sprang；
alarmed； confused。
The shadow…form darted among them。 It moved with inconceivable rapidity； it
became a monster。 Terrible was the convulsive conflict。 Dull blows； the click
of steel； angry shouts； agonized yells； and thrashing； wrestling sounds
mingled together and half drowned by an awful roar like that of a mad bull。
The strife ceased as suddenly as it had begun。 Warriors lay still on the
grass； others writhed in agony。 For an instant a fleeting shadow crossed the
open lane leading out of the glade； then it vanished。
Three savages had sprung toward their rifles。 A blinding flash； a loud report
burst from the thicket overhead。 The foremost savage sank lifelessly。 The
others were intercepted by a giant shadow with brandished rifle。 The watcher
on the knoll had entered the glade。 He stood before the stacked rifles and
swung his heavy gun。 Crash！ An Indian went down before that sweep； but rose
again。 The savages backed away from this threatening figure； and circled
around it。
The noise of the other conflict ceased。 More savages joined the three who
glided to and fro before their desperate foe。 They closed in upon him； only to
be beaten back。 One savage threw a glittering knife； another hurled a stone； a
third flung his tomahawk； which struck fire from the swinging rifle。
He held them at bay。 While they had no firearms he was master of the
situation。 With every sweep of his arms he brought the long rifle down and
knocked a flint from the firelock of an enemy's weapon。 Soon the Indians' guns
were useless。 Slowly then he began to edge away from the stone； toward the；
opening where he had seen the fleeting form vanish。
His intention was to make a dash for life； for he had heard a noise behind the
rock； and remembered the guard。 He saw the savages glance behind him； and
anticipated danger from that direction； but he must not turn。 A second there
might be fatal。 He backed defiantly along the rock until he gained its outer
edge。 But too late！ The Indians glided before him； now behind him； he was
surrounded。 He turned around and around； with the ever…circling rifle whirling
in the faces of the baffled foe。
Once opposite the lane leading from the glade he changed his tactics； and
plunged with fierce impetuosity into the midst of the painted throng。 Then
began a fearful conflict。 The Indians fell before the sweep of his powerful
arms； but grappled with him from the ground。 He literally plowed his way
through the struggling mass； warding off an hundred vicious blows。 Savage
after savage he flung off； until at last he had a clear path before him。
Freedom lay beyond that shiny path。 Into it he bounded。
As he left the glade the plumed guard stepped from behind a tree near the
entrance of the path； and cast his tomahawk。
A white； glittering flash； it flew after the fleeing runner； its aim was true。
Suddenly the moonlight path darkened in the runner's sight； he saw a million
flashing stars； a terrible pain assailed him； he sank slowly； slowly down；
then all was darkness。
Chapter XVII。
Joe awoke as from a fearsome nightmare。 Returning consciousness brought a
vague idea that he had been dreaming of clashing weapons； of yelling savages；
of a conflict in which he had been clutched by sinewy fingers。 An acute pain
pulsed through his temples； a bloody mist glazed his eyes； a sore pressure
cramped his arms and legs。 Surely he dreamed this distress； as well as the
fight。 The red film cleared from his eyes。 His wandering gaze showed the stern
reality。
The bright sun； making the dewdrops glisten on the leaves； lighted up a
tragedy。 Near him lay an Indian whose vacant； sightless eyes were fixed in
death。 Beyond lay four more savages； the peculiar； inert position of whose
limbs； the formlessness； as it were； as if they had been thrown from a great
height and never moved again； attested that here； too； life had been
extinguished。 Joe took in only one detailthe cloven skull of the
nearestwhen he turned away sickened。 He remembered it all now。 The advance；
the rush； the fightall returned。 He saw again Wetzel's shadowy form darting
like a demon into the whirl of conflict； he heard again that hoarse； booming
roar with which the Avenger accompanied his blows。 Joe's gaze swept the glade；
but found no trace of the hunter。
He saw Silvertip and another Indian bathing a wound on Girty's head。 The
renegade groaned and writhed in pain。 Near him lay Kate； with white face and
closed eyes。 She was unconscious； or dead。 Jim sat crouched under a tree to
which he was tied。
〃Joe； are you badly hurt？〃 asked the latter； in deep solicitude。
〃No； I guess not； I don't know；〃 answered Joe。 〃Is poor Kate dead？〃
〃No； she has fainted。〃
〃Where's Nell？〃
〃Gone；〃 replied Jim； lowering his voice； and glancing at the Indians。 They
were too busy trying to bandage Girty's head to pay any attention to their
prisoners。 〃That whirlwind was Wetzel； wasn't it？〃
〃Yes； how'd you know？〃
〃I was awake last night。 I had an oppressive feeling； perhaps a presentiment。
Anyway； I couldn't sleep。 I heard that wind blow through the forest； and
thought my blood would freeze。 The moan is the same as the night wind； the
same soft sigh； only louder and somehow pregnant with superhuman power。 To
speak of it in broad daylight one seems superstitious； but to hear it in the
darkness of this lonely forest； it is fearful！ I hope I am not a coward； I
certainly know I was deathly frightened。 No wonder I was scared！ Look at these
dead Indians； all killed in a moment。 I heard the moan； I saw Silvertip
disappear； and the other two savages rise。 Then something huge dropped from
the rock； a bright object seemed to circle round the savages； they uttered one
short yell； and sank to rise no more。 Somehow at once I suspected that this
shadowy form； with its lightninglike movements； its glittering hatchet； was
Wetzel。 When he plunged into the midst of the other savages I distinctly
recognized him； and saw that he had a bundle； possibly his coat； wrapped round
his left arm； and his right hand held the glittering tomahawk。 I saw him
strike that big Indian there； the one lying with split skull。 His wonderful
daring and quickness seemed to make the savages turn at random。 He broke
through the circle； swung Nell under his arm； slashed at my bonds as he passed
by； and then was gone as he had come。 Not until after you were struck； and
Silvertip came up to me； was I aware my bonds were cut。 Wetzel's hatchet had
severed them； it even cut my side； which was bleeding。 I was free to help； to
fight； and I did not know it。 Fool that I am！〃
〃I made an awful mess of my part of the rescue；〃 groaned Joe。 〃I wonder if the
savages know it was Wetzel。〃
〃Do they？ Well； I rather think so。 Did you not hear them scream that French
name？ As far as I am able to judge； only two Indians were killed instantly。
The others died during the night。 I had to sit here； tied and helpless；
listening as they groaned and called the name of their slayer； even in their
death…throes。 Deathwind！ They have named him well。〃
〃I guess he nearly killed Girty。〃
〃Evidently； but surely the evil one protects the renegade。〃
〃Jim Girty's doomed；〃 whispered Joe； earnestly。 〃He's as good as dead already。
I've lived with Wetzel； and know him。 He told me Girty had murdered a settler；
a feeble old man； who lived near Fort Henry with his son。 The hunter has sworn
to kill the renegade； but； mind you； he did not tell me that。 I saw it in his
eyes。 It wouldn't surprise me to see him jump out of these bushes at any
moment。 I'm looking for it。 If he knows there are only three left； he'll be
after them like a hound on a trail。 Girty must hurry。 Where's he taking you？〃
〃To the Delaware town。〃
〃I don't suppose the chiefs will let any harm befall you； but Kate and I would
be better off dead。 If we can only delay the march； Wetzel will surely
return。〃
〃Hush！ Girty's up。〃
The renegade staggered to an upright position； and leaned on the Shawnee's
arm。 Evidently he had not been seriously injured； only stunned。 Covered with
blood from a swollen； gashed lump on his temple； he certainly presented a
savage appearance。
〃Where's the yellow…haired lass？〃 he demanded； pushing away Silvertip's
friendly arm。 He glared around the glade。 The Shawnee addressed him briefly；
whereupon he raged to and fro under the tree； cursing with foam…flecked lips；
and actual