The next Indian had by this time nearly come up with him and close enough to throw his tomahawk, which whizzed dangerously near Wetzel's head.

But he leaped forward again and soon his rifle was reloaded.

Every time he looked around the Indians treed, afraid to face his unerring weapon.

After running a mile or more in this manner, he reached an open space in the woods where he wheeled suddenly on his pursuers.

The foremost Indian jumped behind a tree, but, as it did not entirely screen his body, he, too, fell a victim to the hunter's aim.