He had to stoop to get through.

He raised himself, and seeing Wetzel, he tried to dodge the lightning sweep of the axe.

It missed his head, at which it had been aimed, but struck just over the shoulders, and buried itself in flesh and bone.

The Indian uttered an agonizing yell which ended in a choking, gurgling sound as the blood spurted from his throat.

Wetzel pulled the weapon from the body of his victim, and with the same motion he swung it around.
This time the blunt end met the next Indian's head with a thud like that made by the butcher when he strikes the bullock to the ground.
The Indian's rifle dropped, his tomahawk flew into the air, while his body rolled down the little embankment into the spring.