The Indians, however, were still far ahead, and though the two hunters pushed forward with all the energy possible, they caught no sight of the enemy, as hour after hour passed away.
But Wetzel was convinced they were gaining, and both were in high hope, for as the afternoon wore to its close, they recognized from the signs around them that they were in the neighborhood of the Ohio, and undoubtedly were close upon the Indians and their captive.
The night had fairly set in when they reached the river side, and they caught the glimmer of the camp-fire of those on the other shore, just below the mouth of the Captina. Cautiously the two pursuers entered the river and swam across. A few minutes spent in reconnoissance enabled them to locate each member of the party, including the captive.
The sight of the young lady drove her betrothed almost frantic, and he insisted on attacking the marauders at once; but Wetzel, who was as cool and collected as though no enemy was within a dozen miles, would not permit it.
"The first hour of daybreak is the time," said he, "and nothing shall be done until then." His companion had no choice but to obey, though it drove him to madness to remain so near his beloved, without striking a blow in her behalf.
The long wearisome hours passed slowly, and at last it began to grow light in the East. The young man was quivering with excitement, but Wetzel had been engaged in too many terrific encounters to lose his self-possession at such a critical time.
The red men are early risers, when on the march, and as soon as it began to grow light in the East, they were astir. Wetzel directed his friend to take sure aim at the renegade, pledging him that he would attend to the Indians.
They fired simultaneously, and each brought down his man. The lover dashed into camp to his affianced, while the two warriors ran among the trees until they could learn the strength of the attacking party. The dauntless Wetzel followed as impetuously as though he had an entire company at his back.
As was his custom, he reloaded on the run, and after a short pursuit, fired his gun at random, so as to draw out the savages. It produced the effect, for the warriors, supposing him to be defenceless, came rushing forth, with uplifted tomahawks and whooping in triumph; but Wetzel took but a few seconds to reload his gun, when he shot the nearest through the body.
As there could be no doubt that his rifle was now unloaded, the single remaining Indian made for him with the fury of a panther. Wetzel, who was no less active and athletic, dodged from tree to tree and ran here and there, baffling the fatal tomahawk that was on the point of being hurled more than once, until his terrible rifle was ready again, when he wheeled and brought down the Indian, who must have wondered in his last moments at the wonderful gun carried by the white man.