He turned eagerly to Wetzel; but instantly recoiled.
Terrible, indeed, had been the hunter's transformation.

All calmness of facial expression was gone; he was now stern, somber.

An intense emotion was visible in his white face; his eyes seemed reduced to two dark shining points, and they emitted so fierce, so piercing a flash, so deadly a light, that Joe could not bear their glittering gaze.
"Three white captives, two of 'em women," uttered the hunter, as if weighing in his mind the importance of this fact.
"Were those women on the raft ?" questioned Joe, and as Wetzel only nodded, he continued, "A white man and two women, six warriors, Silvertip, and that renegade, Jim Girty!" Wetzel deigned not to answer Joe's passionate outburst, but maintained silence and his rigid posture.

Joe glanced once more at the stern face.
"Considering we'd go after Girty and his redskins if they were alone, we're pretty likely to go quicker now that they've got white women prisoners, eh ?" and Joe laughed fiercely between his teeth.
The lad's heart expanded, while along every nerve tingled an exquisite thrill of excitement.

He had yearned for wild, border life.