rs, and because
of this, though he knew it not, still capable of affection. He had
never known youth; his manhood had been one pitiless warfare against
his sworn foes; but once in all those years had his sore, cold heart
warmed; and that was toward a woman who was not for him. His life
had held only one purpose--a bloody one. Yet the man had a heart,
and he could not prevent it from responding to another. In his
simple ignorance he rebelled against this affection for anything
other than his forest homes. Man is weak against hate; what can he
avail against love? The dark caverns of Wetzel's great heart opened,
admitting to their gloomy depths this stranger. So now a new love
was born in that cheerless heart, where for so long a lonely inmate,
the ghost of old love, had dwelt in chill seclusion.

The feeling of comradeship which Wetzel had for Joe was something
altogether new in the hunter's life. True he had hunted with
Jonathan Zane, and accompanied expeditions where he was forced to
sleep with another scout; but a companion, not to say friend, he had
never known. Joe was a boy, wilder than an eagle, yet he was a man.
He was happy and enthusiastic, still his good spirits never jarred
on the hunter; they were restrained. He never asked questions, as
would seem the case in any eager lad; he waited until he was spoken
to. He was apt; he never forgot anything; he had the eye of a born
woodsman, and lastly, perhaps what went far with Wetzel, he was as
strong and supple as a young lynx, and absolutely fearless.

On this evening Wetzel and Joe followed their usual custom; they
smoked a while before lying down to sleep. Tonight the hunter was
even more silent than usual, and the lad, tired out with his day's
tramp, lay down on a bed of fragrant boughs.

Wetzel sat there in the gathering gloom while he pulled slowly on
his pipe. The evening was very quiet; the birds had ceased their
twittering; the wind had died away; it was too early for the bay of
a wolf, the wail of a panther, or hoot of an owl; there was simply
perfect silence.

The lad's deep, even breathing caught Wetzel's ear, and he found
himself meditating, as he had often of late, on this new something
that had crept into his life. For Joe loved him; he could not fail
to see that. The lad had preferred to roam with the lonely
Indian-hunter through the forests, to encounter the perils and
hardships of a wild life, rather than accept the smile of fortune
and of lov