lonel 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. I heard it twice. Now,
what was it?"

"Jonathan said the same thing to me once. He had been out hunting
with Wetzel; they separated, and during the night Jonathan heard the
wind. The next day he ran across a dead Indian. He believes Wetzel
makes the noise, and so do the hunters; but I think it is simply the
moan of the night wind through the trees. I have heard it at times,
when my very blood seemingly ran cold."

"I tried to think it was the wind soughing through the pines, but am
afraid I didn't succeed very well. Anyhow, I knew Wetzel instantly,
just as Jeff Lynn said I would. He killed those Indians in an
instant, and he must have an iron arm."

"Wetzel excels in strength and speed any man, red or white, on the
frontier. He can run away from Jonathan, who is as swift as an
Indian. He's stronger than any of the other men. I remember one day
old Hugh Bennet's wagon wheels stuck in a bog down by the creek.
Hugh tried, as several others did, to move the wheels; but they
couldn't be made to budge. Along came Wetzel, pushed away the men,
and lifted the wagon unaided. It would take hours to tell you about
him. In brief, among all the border scouts and hunters Wetzel stands
alone. No wonder the Indians fear him. He is as swift as an eagle,
strong as mountain-ash, keen as a fox, and absolutely tireless and
implacable."

"How long have you been here, Colonel Zane?"

"More than twelve years, and it has been one long fight."

"I'm afraid I'm too late for the fun," said Joe, with his quiet
laugh.

"Not by about twelve more years," answered Colonel Zane, studying
the expression on Joe's face. "When I came out here years ago I had
the same adventurous spirit which I see in you. It has been
considerably quelled, however. I have seen many a daring young
fellow get the border fever, and with it his