If I can ever get a shot at any of 'em I'll give up Injuns and go farmin'.
Good night, Betty." "What a strange man is Wetzel," mused Betty, after the visitors had gone.

"Do you know, Eb, he is not at all like any one else.

I have seen the girls shudder at the mention of his name and I have heard them say they could not look in his eyes.

He does not affect me that way.

It is not often I can get him to talk, but sometimes he tells me beautiful thing about the woods; how he lives in the wilderness, his home under the great trees; how every leaf on the trees and every blade of grass has its joy for him as well as its knowledge; how he curls up in his little bark shack and is lulled to sleep by the sighing of the wind through the pine tops.