"Good morning, Harry. Where are you going so early?" called Betty from the doorway.
A lad was passing down the path in front of Colonel Zane's house as Betty hailed him.
He carried a rifle almost as long as himself.
"Mornin', Betty. I am goin' 'cross the crick fer that turkey I hear gobblin'," he answered,
stopping at the gate and smiling brightly at Betty.
"Hello, Harry Bennet. Going after that turkey? I have heard him several mornings and
he must be a big, healthy gobbler," said Colonel Zane, stepping to the door. "You are
going to have company. Here comes Wetzel."
"Good morning, Lew. Are you too off on a turkey hunt?" said Betty.
"Listen," said the hunter, as he stopped and leaned against the gate. They listened. All
was quiet save for the tinkle of a cow-bell in the pasture adjoining the Colonel's barn.
Presently the silence was broken by a long, shrill, peculiar cry.
"Chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug-chug."
"Well, it's a turkey, all right, and I'll bet a big gobbler," remarked Colonel Zane, as the
"Has Jonathan heard it?" asked Wetzel.
"Not that I know of. Why do you ask?" said the Colonel, in a low tone. "Look here, Lew,
is that not a genuine call?"
"Goodbye, Harry, be sure and bring me a turkey," called Betty, as she disappeared.
"I calkilate it's a real turkey," answered the hunter, and motioning the lad to stay behind,
he shouldered his rifle and passed swiftly down the path.
Of all the Wetzel family--a family noted from one end of the frontier to the other--Lewis
was as the most famous.
The early history of West Virginia and Ohio is replete with the daring deeds of this
wilderness roamer, this lone hunter and insatiable Nemesis, justly called the greatest
Indian slayer known to men.
When Lewis was about twenty years old, and his brothers John and Martin little older,
they left their Virginia home for a protracted hunt. On their return they found the