ew a hardy shrub
of the ironwood species, and above it a scrub pine leaned
horizontally out over the ravine. Laying his rifle down, Wetzel
grasped a strong root and cautiously slid over the side. When all of
his body had disappeared, with the exception of his sinewy fingers,
they loosened their hold on the root, grasped the rifle, and dragged
it down out of sight. Quietly, with similar caution, Joe took hold
of the same root, let himself down, and when at full length swung
himself in under the ledge. His feet found a pocket in the cliff.
Letting go of the root, he took his rifle, and in another second was
safe.

Of all Wetzel's retreats--for he had many--he considered this one
the safest. The cavern under the ledge he had discovered by
accident. One day, being hotly pursued by Shawnees, he had been
headed off on this cliff, and had let himself down on the ledge,
intending to drop from it to the tops of the trees below. Taking
advantage of every little aid, he hung over by means of the shrub,
and was in the act of leaping when he saw that the cliff shelved
under the ledge, while within reach of his feet was the entrance to
a cavern. He found the cave to be small with an opening at the back
into a split in the rock. Evidently the place had been entered from
the rear by bears, who used the hole for winter sleeping quarters.
By crawling on his hands and knees, Wetzel found the rear opening.
Thus he had established a hiding place where it was almost
impossible to locate him. He provisioned his retreat, which he
always entered by the cliff and left by the rear.

An evidence of Wetzel's strange nature, and of his love for this
wild home, manifested itself when he bound Joe to secrecy. It was
unlikely, even if the young man ever did get safely out of the
wilderness, that any stories he might relate would reveal the
hunter's favorite rendezvous. But Wetzel seriously demanded this
secrecy, as earnestly as if the forest were full of Indians and
white men, all prowling in search of his burrow.

Joe was in the seventh heaven of delight, and took to the free life
as a wild gosling takes to the water. No place had ever appealed to
him as did this dark, silent hole far up on the side of a steep
cliff. His interest in Wetzel soon passed into a great admiration,
and from that deepened to love.

This afternoon, when they were satisfied that all was well within
their refuge, Joe laid aside his rifle, and, whistling softly, began
to