Not more than one hundred feet.

He was safe.

Once in the dark shade of those trees, and with his foes behind him, he could defy the whole race of Delawares.

He looked to his rifle, freshened the powder in the pan, carefully adjusted the flint, and then rose quietly to his feet.
Wetzel's keen gaze, as he swept it from left to right, took in every detail of the camp.

He was almost in the village.