"He's hard hit," hissed Zane, between his teeth. "You can tell that by the way he fell."
Wetzel did not answer. He lay silent and motionless, his long body rigid, and his face like marble.
"There comes the other young fellar—Joe's brother. He'll get plugged, too," continued Zane, whispering rather to himself than to his companion. "Oh, I hoped they'd show some sense! It's noble for them to die for Christianity, but it won't do no good. By gum! Heckewelder has pulled him back. Now, that's good judgment!"
Half King stepped before the Christians and addressed them. He held in his hand a black war-club, which he wielded as he spoke.
Jonathan's attention was now directed from the maple grove to the hunter beside him. He had heard a slight metallic click, as Wetzel cocked his rifle. Then he saw the black barrel slowly rise.
"Listen, Lew. Mebbe it ain't good sense. We're after Girty, you remember; and it's a long shot from here—full three hundred yards."
"You're right, Jack, you're right," answered Wetzel, breathing hard.
"Let's wait, and see what comes off."
"Jack, I can't do it. It'll make our job harder; but I can't help it. I can put a bullet just over the Huron's left eye, an' I'm goin' to do it."
"You can't do it, Lew; you can't! It's too far for any gun. Wait!
Wait!" whispered Jonathan, laying his hand on Wetzel's shoulder.