I think he finds pleasure in the conversation and laughter of friends.

He is fond of the children, and would do anything for my sister Betty." "His life must be lonely and sad," remarked Joe.
"The life of any borderman is that; but Wetzel's is particularly so." "What is he called by the Indians ?" "They call him Atelang, or, in English, Deathwind." "By George! That's what Silvertip said in French--'Le Vent de la Mort.'" "Yes; you have it right.

A French fur trader gave Wetzel that name years ago, and it has clung to him.

The Indians say the Deathwind blows through the forest whenever Wetzel stalks on their trail." "Colonel Zane, don't you think me superstitious," whispered Joe, leaning toward the colonel, "but I heard that wind blow through the forest." "What!" ejaculated Colonel Zane.

He saw that Joe was in earnest, for the remembrance of the moan had more than once paled his cheek and caused beads of perspiration to collect on his brow.
Joe related the circumstances of that night, and at the end of his narrative Colonel Zane sat silent and thoughtful.
"You don't really think it was Wetzel who moaned ?" he asked, at length.
"No, I don't," replied Joe quickly; "but, Colonel Zane, I heard that moan as plainly as I can hear your voice.