His heart beat fast, his fingers trembled, yet he felt only a strange coldness in all his being.

The savage had tried to kill him, perhaps, even now, had it not been for the hunter's unerring aim, would have been gloating over a bloody scalp.
Joe felt, rather than heard, the approach of some one, and he turned to see Wetzel coming down the path.
"He's a lone Shawnee runner," said the hunter, gazing down at the dead Indian.

"He was tryin' to win his eagle plumes.

I seen you both from the hillside." "You did!" exclaimed Joe.

Then he laughed.