Then he cut a few spreading branches from a beech, and leaned them against a log.
Bidding the lad crawl in before he took one last look around and then made his way under the shelter.
It was yet daylight, which seemed a strange time to creep into this little nook; but, Joe thought, it was not to sleep, only to wait, wait, wait for the long hours to pass.

He was amazed once more, because, by the time twilight had given place to darkness, Wetzel was asleep.

The lad said then to himself that he would never again be surprised at the hunter.

He assumed once and for all that Wetzel was capable of anything.

Yet how could he lose himself in slumber?
Feeling, as he must, over the capture of the girls; eager to draw a bead on the black-hearted renegade; hating Indians with all his soul and strength, and lying there but a few hours before what he knew would be a bloody battle, Wetzel calmly went to sleep.