Just now she was talking to Wetzel, who leaned upon his inseparable rifle and listened to her chatter.

The hunter liked the old lady and would often stop at her cabin while on his way to the settlement and leave at her door a fat turkey or a haunch of venison.
"Lew Wetzel, I am ashamed of you." Grandmother Watkins was saying.
"Put that gun in the corner and get out there and dance.

Enjoy yourself.

You are only a boy yet." "I'd better look on, mother," answered the hunter.
"Pshaw! You can hop and skip around like any of then and laugh too if you want.

I hope that pretty sister of Eb Zane has caught your fancy." "She is not for the like of me," he said gently "I haven't the gifts." "Don't talk about gifts.