way lying on his back, with
the west wind blowing softly over him, his eye on the distant hills,
where the cloud shadows swept across with slow, majestic movement,
like huge ships at sea.

If Wetzel and Joe were far distant from the cave, as was often the
case, they made camp in the open woods, and it was here that Joe's
contentment was fullest. Twilight shades stealing down over the
camp-fire; the cheery glow of red embers; the crackling of dry
stocks; the sweet smell of wood smoke, all had for the lad a subtle,
potent charm.

The hunter would broil a venison steak, or a partridge, on the
coals. Then they would light their pipes and smoke while twilight
deepened. The oppressive stillness of the early evening hour always
brought to the younger man a sensation of awe. At first he
attributed this to the fact that he was new to this life; however,
as the days passed and the emotion remained, nay, grew stronger, he
concluded it was imparted by this close communion with nature. Deep
solemn, tranquil, the gloaming hour brought him no ordinary fullness
of joy and clearness of perception.

"Do you ever feel this stillness?" he asked Wetzel one evening, as
they sat near their flickering fire.

The hunter puffed his pipe, and, like an Indian, seemed to let the
question take deep root.

"I've scalped redskins every hour in the day, 'ceptin' twilight," he
replied.

Joe wondered no longer whether the hunter was too hardened to feel
this beautiful tranquillity. That hour which wooed Wetzel from his
implacable pursuit was indeed a bewitching one.

There was never a time, when Joe lay alone in camp waiting for
Wetzel, that he did not hope the hunter would return with
information of Indians. The man never talked about the savages, and
if he spoke at all it was to tell of some incident of his day's
travel. One evening he came back with a large black fox that he had
killed.

"What beautiful, glossy fur!" said Joe. "I never saw a black fox
before."

"I've been layin' fer this fellar some time," replied Wetzel, as he
began his first evening task, that of combing his hair. "Jest back
here in a clump of cottonwoods there's a holler log full of leaves.
Happenin' to see a blacksnake sneakin' round, I thought mebbe he was
up to somethin', so I investigated, an' found a nest full of young
rabbits. I killed the snake, an' arter that took an interest in 'em.
Every time I passed I'd look in at the bunnies, an' each time I seen
signs t