Wetzel, the Scout; or, The Captives of the Wilderness

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Moffat took his departure in quest of game, and soon returned with a wild duck, which he had managed to approach unobserved, and kill with a well-aimed stone, there being too much danger in firing his gun. The bird was speedily cooked and eaten, with the keenest of appetites upon the part of both.

“Now,” said the ranger, “as we ain’t exactly sartin of our neighbors, we’ll seperate fur awhile. I’ll go to the left and you to the right, and we’ll jine again, by that point of bank, which you remember is about a quarter of a mile down the river.”

There was some risk in this, although, with proper prudence, there was no need of either running into danger. Accordingly they separated, and each taking the route designated by the scout, and moving with the stealthy tread of panthers seeking their prey.

They had been separated about fifteen minutes, and each was advancing silently, cautiously and stealthily, when our hero suddenly discovered an Indian in his war paint approaching. As quick as thought the young man “sprang to cover,” by darting behind a large oak tree. The tree behind which he was sheltered was, as said, a very large one of the oak species. The protection of the Shawnee was much smaller, and barely served to cover his body; but it was enough, and all he desired.

Kingman stood a moment, as if to decide his course, and then he walked with a stealthy tread about ten feet from the tree, and dropped upon the ground. In doing this, the tree had been kept in a range with the Indian, so as to still screen his body, and his purpose was unsuspected. He now sank flat upon his face, and commenced working himself slowly backward, his eye fixed upon the tree he had just left, and his whole caution exerted not to deviate from the range.

Had the savage once caught a glimpse of his movements, it would have been all up with Kingman. As it was, the Shawnee was half expecting some stratagem or treachery, and never once removed his gaze from the spot where he supposed his victim to be; but so consummately had our hero arranged this that as yet not the remotest suspicion had crossed the mind of the savage. He was, however, doomed to pass a more fearful ordeal than he yet dreamed.

The wood being open, and the ground devoid of the thick, tangled undergrowth so common in some other parts, Kingman was compelled to use the most extreme caution that no mismovement was made upon his part. As he proceeded, the friendly angle he made with the tree grew less, and the ground that was safe for him consequently more narrow each moment. More than once he found himself deviating from the line, and almost exposing himself. His progress was very slow and wearisome. The distance necessary to be passed before he could rise to his feet was considerably over a hundred yards, and not half that distance was yet crossed. When near the center, and moving slowly and painfully along, Kingman was startled by his feet coming in contact with some hard substance. Turning his gaze, he saw a rotten and decayed log lay directly across his path.

This was a new difficulty to be got over, or gone around. But there was no time for hesitation, and waiting but a second, he lifted his feet and commenced pushing himself over. His body passed over safely, and, feeling considerably relieved, he recommenced his novel retreat. But he had scarcely taken a step, when he heard a sound beside him that made his blood tingle with horror. It was the warning of the rattlesnake! Glancing furtively around, Kingman saw the reptile within six feet of him. His scaly, glittering body lay coiled like a rope, and from the centre his head, terrible in its beauty, rose some eighteen inches, and was drawn back, ready for the fatal strike. The tail on the outside of the horrid ring was gently swaying, giving forth that deadly rattle, and the whole body seemed alive and excited. Hardly a more terrible spectacle can be conceived than that of the coiled and bristling rattlesnake. The one in question was about five feet in length, and was gathered in a circle of a foot in diameter. The head was drawn back in a glistening arch, like the neck of a swan. As he lay, a patch of the sunlight broke through the treetops and rested upon him, making his whole body to glisten with a thousand brilliant variegated colors. His eye shone with a malignant glitter, like the ray of the star through the dark cloud, and his tongue flashed with lightning-like rapidity round his flat, swaying head. So rapid and incessant were the movements of this, that to Kingman it resembled a tiny stream of bright red blood crossing the neck and head in every direction. Several times the cavernous jaws were distended, and the white fangs, loaded with venom, could be seen curving inward, and as pointed as a needle.

Kingman saw all this in less time than it takes us to describe it. His first movement, upon seeing the reptile so nigh him, was an involuntary recoil, which had well discovered him to his human enemy. He felt the double danger that now menaced him. The rattlesnake had warned him once, and in a minute would strike. He could spring to his feet, and, with a little dexterity, avoid him; but, in the place of the sluggish reptile, the swift bullet of the Shawnee could not be avoided. No; Kingman made up his mind that an encounter with the reptile was preferable to one with the vindictive Shawnee.

Favored by the log over which, as will be remembered, he had just passed, and by still being in perfect range with the Indian, Kingman rose upon one knee and grasped his stick with both hands. It was a dangerous movement, and he durst not turn to see whether the savage had noticed it. But it must be done, and he could not remove his gaze from the snake, whose head now rose and drew back several inches, and whose eye glittered with tenfold brightness at his own threatened danger. He now rattled for the last time, and drew his neck back like a bent bow, when the stick of Kingman flashed through the air so rapidly as to be invisible, and struck the reptile just at the junction of the head and neck. Any other snake would have dodged the blow, quick as it was; but this species, besides being sluggish, is easily killed with a slight wound. As it was, the force with which Kingman struck was so great, and the blow so well aimed, that, incredible as it may seem, the head was stricken clean from the body. Kingman heard it snap, and, as the trunk spurted its hot blood on him, saw something spin like a ball through the air, and fall several yards away. A glance showed him the head writhing among the leaves, and the mouth gaping to its utmost extent.