.dt Winnetou, The Apache Knight, by Marion Ames Taggart-A Project\
Gutenberg eBook
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WINNETOU, THE APACHE KNIGHT.
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COMPANION VOLUME.
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The Treasure of Nugget Mountain. Edited by Marion
Ames Taggart. 12mo, cloth, 85 cents.
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JACK HILDRETH AMONG THE INDIANS.
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WINNETOU,
THE APACHE KNIGHT.
ADAPTED FOR OUR BOYS AND GIRLS FROM C. MAY
BY
MARION AMES TAGGART.
❦
New York, Cincinnati, Chicago:
BENZIGER BROTHERS,
Printers to the Holy Apostolic See.
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Copyright, 1898, by Benziger Brothers.
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CONTENTS.
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CHAPTER | | PAGE
I. | Toward the Setting Sun, | #7:ch01#
II. | My First Buffalo, | #16:ch02#
III. | Wild Mustangs and Long-eared Nancy, | #27:ch03#
IV. | A Grizzly and a Meeting, | #39:ch04#
V. | The Speech of the Apache Chief, | #52:ch05#
VI. | A Wish and Its Tragic Fulfilment, | #60:ch06#
VII. | A Compact with the Kiowas, | #68:ch07#
VIII. | Sam Hawkins Goes Spying, | #82:ch08#
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IX. | Waiting the Onslaught, | #92:ch09#
X. | The Capture of Winnetou, | #102:ch10#
XI. | A Difference of Opinion, | #116:ch11#
XII. | A Duel, and Capture by the Apaches, | #128:ch12#
XIII. | Nursed to Health for a Cruel Fate, | #142:ch13#
XIV. | On Trial for Life, | #155:ch14#
XV. | A Swim for Freedom, | #168:ch15#
XVI. | Tangua’s Punishment, | #180:ch16#
XVII. | The End of Rattler, | #190:ch17#
XVIII. | Teaching Winnetou, | #204:ch18#
XIX. | The Burial of Kleki-Petrah, | #214:ch19#
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WINNETOU, THE APACHE KNIGHT.
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CHAPTER I.||TOWARD THE SETTING SUN.
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It is not necessary to say much about myself. First
of all because there is not very much to tell of a young
fellow of twenty-three, and then because I hope what
I have done and seen will be more interesting than I
am, for, between you and me, I often find Jack Hildreth
a dull kind of person, especially on a rainy day when I
have to sit in the house alone with him.
When I was born three other children had preceded
me in the world, and my father’s dreamy blue eyes saw
no way of providing suitably for this superfluous fourth
youngster. And then my uncle John came forward and
said: “Name the boy after me, and I’ll be responsible
for his future.” Now Uncle John was rich and unmarried,
and though my father could never get his mind
down to anything more practical than deciphering
cuneiform inscriptions, even he saw that this changed
the unflattering prospects of his latest-born into unusually
smiling ones.
So I became Jack Hildreth secundus, and my uncle
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nobly fulfilled his part of the contract. He kept me
under his own eye, gave me a horse before my legs were
long enough to bestride him, nevertheless expecting me
to sit him fast, punished me well if I was quarrelsome or
domineering with other boys, yet punished me no less
surely if when a quarrel was forced upon me I showed
the white feather or failed to do my best to whip my
enemy.
“Fear God, but fear no man. Never lie, or sneak,
or truckle for favor. Never betray a trust. Never be
cruel to man or beast. Never inflict pain deliberately,
but never be afraid to meet it if you must. Be kind, be
honest, be daring. Be a man, and you will be a gentleman.”
This was my uncle’s simple code; and as I get
older, and see more of life, I am inclined to think there
is none better.
My uncle sent me to the Jesuit college, and I went
through as well as I could, because he trusted me to do
so. I did not set the college world afire, but I stood
fairly in my classes, and was first in athletics, and my
old soldier uncle cared for that with ill-concealed pride.
When I left the student’s life, and began to look about
on real life and wonder where to take hold of it, I was
so restless and overflowing with health and strength
that I could not settle down to anything, and the fever
for life on the plains came upon me. I longed to be off
to the wild and woolly West—the wilder and woollier
the better—before I assumed the shackles of civilization
forever.
“Go if you choose, Jack,” my uncle said. “Men are
a better study than books, after you’ve been grounded
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in the latter. Begin the study in the primer of an
aboriginal race, if you like; indeed it may be best.
There’s plenty of time to decide on your future, for, as
you’re to be my heir, there’s no pressing need of beginning
labor.”
My uncle had the necessary influence to get me appointed
as an engineer with a party which was to survey
for a railroad among the mountains of New Mexico and
Arizona—a position I was competent to fill, as I had
chosen civil engineering as my future profession, and
had studied it thoroughly.
I scarcely realized that I was going till I found myself
in St. Louis, where I was to meet the scouts of the
party, who would take me with them to join the surveyors
at the scene of our labors. On the night after my
arrival I invited the senior scout, Sam Hawkins, to sup
with me, in order that I might make his acquaintance
before starting in the morning.
I do not know whether the Wild West Show was
unconsciously in my mind, but when Mr. Hawkins
appeared at the appointed time I certainly felt disappointed
to see him clad in ordinary clothes and not in
the picturesque costume of Buffalo Bill, till I reflected
that in St. Louis even a famous Indian scout might condescend
to look like every-day mortals.
“So you’re the young tenderfoot; glad to make your
acquaintance, sir,” he said, and held out his hand, smiling
at me from an extraordinary face covered with a
bushy beard of many moons’ growth and shadowed by
a large nose a trifle awry, above which twinkled a pair
of sharp little eyes.
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My guest surprised me not a little, after I had responded
to his greeting, by hanging his hat on the gas-fixture,
and following it with his hair.
“Don’t be shocked,” he said calmly, seeing, I suppose,
that this was unexpected. “You will excuse me,
I hope, for the Pawnees have taken my natural locks.
It was a mighty queer feeling, but fortunately I was
able to stand it. I went to Tacoma and bought myself
a new scalp, and it cost me a roll of good dollars. It
doesn’t matter; the new hair is more convenient than
the old, especially on a warm day, for I never could
hang my own wig up like that.”
He had a way of laughing inwardly, and his shoulders
shook as he spoke, though he made no sound.
“Can you shoot?” asked my queer companion suddenly.
“Fairly,” I said, not so much, I am afraid, because
I was modest as because I wanted to have the fun of letting
him find out that I was a crack marksman.
“And ride?”
“If I have to.”
“If you have to! Not as well as you shoot, then?”
“Pshaw! what is riding? The mounting is all that
is hard; you can hang on somehow if once you’re up.”
He looked at me to see whether I was joking or
in earnest; but I looked innocent, so he said: “There’s
where you make a mistake. What you should have said
is that mounting is hard because you have to do that
yourself, while the horse attends to your getting off
again.”
“The horse won’t see to it in my case,” I said with
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confidence—born of the fact that my kind uncle had
accustomed me to clinging to high-strung beasts before
I had lost my milk-teeth.
“A kicking broncho is something to try the mettle of
a tenderfoot,” remarked Hawkins dryly.
I suppose you know what a tenderfoot is. He is one
who speaks good English, and wears gloves as if he were
used to them. He also has a prejudice in favor of nice
handkerchiefs and well-kept finger-nails; he may know
a good deal about history, but he is liable to mistake
turkey-tracks for bear-prints, and, though he has
learned astronomy, he could never find his way by the
stars. The tenderfoot sticks his bowie-knife into
his belt in such a manner that it runs into his thigh
when he bends; and when he builds a fire on the prairie
he makes it so big that it flames as high as a tree, yet
feels surprised that the Indians notice it. But many a
tenderfoot is a daring, strong-bodied and strong-hearted
fellow; and though there was no doubt that I was a tenderfoot
fast enough, I hoped to convince Sam Hawkins
that I had some qualities requisite for success on the
plains.
By the time our supper was over there was a very
good understanding established between me and the
queer little man to whose faithful love I was to owe so
much. He was an eccentric fellow, with a pretence of
crustiness covering his big, true heart; but it was not
hard to read him by the law of contraries, and our mutual
liking dated from that night of meeting.
We set out in the early dawn of the following morning,
accompanied by the other two scouts, Dick Stone
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and Will Parker, whom I then saw for the first time,
and whom I learned to value only less than Sam as the
truest of good comrades. Our journey was as direct and
speedy as we could make it to the mountain region of
New Mexico, near the Apache Indian reservation, and
I was welcomed by my fellow-workers with a cordiality
that gave rise to hopes of pleasant relations with them
which were never realized. The party consisted of the
head engineer, Bancroft, and three men under him.
With them were twelve men intended to serve as our protectors,
a sort of standing army, and for whom, as hardworking
pioneers, I, a new-comer, had considerable respect
until I discovered that they were men of the lowest
moral standards.
Although I had entered the service only for experience,
I was in earnest and did my duty conscientiously;
but I soon found out that my colleagues were genuine
adventurers, only after money, and caring nothing for
their work except as a means of getting it.
Bancroft was the most dishonest of all. He loved his
bottle too well and got private supplies for it from
Santa Fé, and worked harder with the brandy-flask than
with his surveying instruments. Riggs, Marcy, and
Wheeler, the three surveyors, emulated Bancroft in this
unprofitable pursuit; and as I never touched a drop of
liquor, I naturally was the laborer, while the rest alternated
between drinking and sleeping off the effects.
It goes without saying that under such circumstances
our work did not progress rapidly, and at the end of the
glorious autumn and three months of labor we found
ourselves with our task still unaccomplished, while the
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section with which ours was to connect was almost completed.
Besides our workmen being such as they were,
we had to work in a region infested with Comanches,
Kiowas, and Apaches, who objected to a road through
their territory, and we had to be constantly on our
guard, which made our progress still slower.
Personally my lot was not a bed of roses, for the men
disliked me, and called me “tenderfoot” ten times a
day, and took a special delight in thwarting my will,
especially Rattler, the leader of our so-called guard, and
as big a rascal as ever went unhanged. I durst not
speak to them in an authoritative manner, but had to
manage them as a wise woman manages a tyrannical
husband without his perceiving it.
But I had allies in Sam Hawkins and his two companion
scouts, Dick Stone and Will Parker. They were
friendly to me, and held off from the others, in whom
Sam Hawkins especially managed to inspire respect in
spite of his droll peculiarities. There was an alliance
formed between us silently, which I can best describe as
a sort of feudal relation; he had taken me under his protection
like a man who did not need to ask if he were
understood. I was the “tenderfoot,” and he the experienced
frontiersman whose words and deeds had to be
infallible to me. As often as he had time and opportunity
he gave me practical and theoretical instruction in
everything necessary to know and do in the Wild West;
and though I graduated from the high school later, so
to speak, with Winnetou as master, Sam Hawkins was
my elementary teacher.
He made me expert with a lasso, and let me practise
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with that useful weapon on his own little person and his
horse. When I had reached the point of catching them
at every throw he was delighted, and cried out: “Good,
my young sir! That’s fine. But don’t be set up with
this praise. A teacher must encourage his stupid
scholars when they make a little progress. I have taught
lots of young frontiersmen, and they all learned much
easier and understood me far quicker than you have, but
perhaps it’s possible that after eight years or so you may
not be called a tenderfoot. You can comfort yourself
with the thought that sometimes a stupid man gets on
as well as or even a little better than a clever one.”
He said this as if in sober earnest, and I received it
in the same way, knowing well how differently he meant
it. We met at a distance from the camp, where we could
not be observed. Sam Hawkins would have it so; and
when I asked why, he said: “For mercy’s sake, hide yourself,
sir. You are so awkward that I should be ashamed
to have these fellows see you, so that’s why I keep you
in the shade—that’s the only reason; take it to heart.”
The consequence was that none of the company suspected
that I had any skill in weapons, or special muscular
strength—an ignorance that I was glad to foster.
One day I gave Rattler an order; it was some trifling
thing, too small for me to remember now, and he would
have been willing to carry it out had not his mood been
rather uglier than usual.
“Do it yourself,” he growled. “You impudent greenhorn,
I’ll show you I’m as good as you are any day.”
“You’re drunk,” I said, looking him over and turning
away.
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“I’m drunk, am I?” he replied, glad of a chance to
get at me, whom he hated.
“Very drunk, or I’d knock you down,” I answered.
Rattler was a big, brawny fellow, and he stepped up
in front of me, rolling up his sleeves. “Who, me?
Knock me down? Well, I guess not, you blower, you
kid, you greenhorn—”
He said no more. I hit him square in the face, and
he dropped like an ox. Fearing mischief from Rattler’s
followers, and realizing that now or never was my
authority to be established, I drew my pistol, crying:
“If one of you puts his hand to a weapon I’ll shoot him
on the spot.” No one stirred. “Take your friend
away, and let him sober up, and when he comes to his
senses he may be more respectful,” I remarked.
As the men obeyed me, Wheeler, the surveyor, whom
I thought the best of the lot, stepped from the others
and came up to me. “That was a great blow,” he said.
“Let me congratulate you. I never saw such strength.
They’ll call you Shatterhand out here.”
This seemed to suit little Sam exactly. He threw up
his hat, shouting joyously: “Shatterhand! Good! A
tenderfoot, and already won a name, and what a name!
Shatterhand; Old Shatterhand. It’s like Old Firehand,
who is a frontiersman as strong as a bear. I tell you,
boy, it’s great, and you’re christened for good and all in
the Wild West.”
And so I found myself in a new and strange life, and
beginning it with a new name, which became as familiar
and as dear to me as my own.
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CHAPTER II.||MY FIRST BUFFALO.
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Three days after the little disciplining I had given
Rattler, Mr. White, the head engineer of the next section,
rode over to us to report that their work was
finished, and to inquire what our prospects were for
making speedy connection. When he set out on his
return he invited Sam Hawkins and me to accompany
him part of the way through the valley.
We found him a very agreeable companion; and when
we came to the point where we were to turn back we
shook hands cordially, leaving him with regret.
“There’s one thing I want to warn you of,” Mr. White
said in parting. “Look out for redskins.”
“Have you seen them?” Sam asked.
“Not them, but their tracks. Now is the time when
the wild mustangs and the buffaloes go southward, and
the Indians follow in the chase. The Kiowas are all
right, for we arranged with them for the road, but the
Apaches and Comanches know nothing of it, and we
don’t dare let them see us. We have finished our part,
and are ready to leave this region; hurry up with yours,
and do likewise. Remember there’s danger, and
good-by.”
Sam looked gravely after his retreating form, and
pointed to a footprint near the spring where we had
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paused for parting. “He’s quite right to warn us of
Indians,” he said.
“Do you mean this footprint was made by an
Indian?”
“Yes, an Indian’s moccasin. How does that make
you feel?”
“Not at all.”
“You must feel or think something.”
“What should I think except that an Indian has
been here?”
“Not afraid?”
“Not a bit.”
“Oh,” cried Sam, “you’re living up to your name of
Shatterhand; but I tell you that Indians are not so easy
to shatter; you don’t know them.”
“But I hope to understand them. They must be like
other men, enemies to their enemies, friends to their
friends; and as I mean to treat them well, I don’t see
why I should fear them.”
“You’ll find out,” said Sam, “or you’ll be a greenhorn
for eternity. You may treat the Indians as you
like, and it won’t turn out as you expect, for the results
don’t depend on your will. You’ll learn by experience,
and I only hope the experience won’t cost you your
life.”
This was not cheering, and for some time we rode
through the pleasant autumn air in silence.
Suddenly Sam reined up his horse, and looked ahead
earnestly through half-closed lids. “By George,” he
cried excitedly, “there they are! Actually there they
are, the very first ones.”
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“What?” I asked. I saw at some distance ahead of
us perhaps eighteen or twenty dark forms moving
slowly.
“What!” repeated Sam, bouncing up and down in
his saddle. “I’d be ashamed to ask such a question;
you are indeed a precious greenhorn. Can’t you guess,
my learned sir, what those things are before your eyes
there?”
“I should take them for deer if I didn’t know there
were none about here; and though those animals look
so small from here, I should say they were larger than
deer.”
“Deer in this locality! That’s a good one! But
your other guess is not so bad; they certainly are larger
than deer.”
“O Sam, they surely can’t be buffaloes?”
“They surely can. Bisons they are, genuine bisons
beginning their travels, and the first I have seen. You
see Mr. White was right: buffaloes and Indians. We
saw only a footprint of the red men, but the buffaloes
are there before our eyes in all their strength. What
do you say about it?”
“We must go up to them.”
“Sure.”
“And study them.”
“Study them? Really study them?” he asked,
glancing at me sidewise in surprise.
“Yes; I never saw a buffalo, and I’d like to watch
them.”
I felt the interest of a naturalist, which was perfectly
incomprehensible to little Sam. He rubbed his hands
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together, saying: “Watch them, only watch them!
Like a child putting his eye to a rabbit’s hole to see
the little bunnies! O you young tenderfoot, what I
must put up with in you! I don’t want to watch them
or study them, I tell you, hut hunt them. They mean
meat—meat, do you understand? and such meat! A
buffalo-steak is more glorious than ambrosia, or ambrosiana,
or whatever you call the stuff the old Greeks
fed their gods with. I must have a buffalo if it costs me
my life. The wind is towards us; that’s good. The sun’s
on the left, towards the valley, but it’s shady on the
right, and if we keep in the shade the animals won’t see
us. Come on.”
He looked to see if his gun, “Liddy,” as he called it,
was all right, and I hastily overhauled my own weapon.
Seeing this, Sam held up his horse and asked: “Do
you want to take a hand in this?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you let that thing alone if you don’t want to
be trampled to jelly in the next ten minutes. A buffalo
isn’t a canary bird for a man to take on his finger and
let it sing.”
“But I will—”
“Be silent, and obey me,” he interrupted in a tone he
had never used before. “I won’t have your life on my
conscience, and you would ride into the jaws of certain
death. You can do what you please at other times, but
now I’ll stand no opposition.”
Had there not been such a good understanding between
us I would have given him a forcible answer; but
as it was, I rode after him in the shadow of the hills
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without speaking, and after a while Sam said in his
usual manner: “There are twenty head, as I reckon.
Once a thousand or more browsed over the plains. I
have seen early herds numbering a thousand and upward.
They were the Indians’ food, but the white men
have taken it from them. The redskin hunted to live,
and only killed what he needed. But the white man
has ravaged countless herds, like a robber who for very
lust of blood keeps on slaying when he is well supplied.
It won’t be long before there are no buffaloes, and a
little longer and there’ll be no Indians, God help them!
And it’s just the same with the herds of horses. There
used to be herds of a thousand mustangs, and even
more. Now a man is lucky if he sees two together.”
We had come within four hundred feet of the buffaloes
unobserved, and Hawkins reined in his horse.
In the van of the herd was an old bull whose enormous
bulk I studied with wonder. He was certainly six feet
high and ten long; I did not then know how to estimate
the weight of a buffalo, but I should now say that he
must have weighed sixteen hundred pounds—an
astounding mass of flesh and bone.
“That’s the leader,” whispered Sam, “the most
experienced of the whole crowd. Whoever tackles him
had better make his will first. I will take the young
cow right back of him. The best place to shoot is
behind the shoulder-blade into the heart; indeed it’s the
only sure place except the eyes, and none but a madman
would go up to a buffalo and shoot into his eyes. You
stay here, and hide yourself and your horse in the
thicket. When they see me they’ll run past here; but
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don’t you quit your place unless I come back or call
you.”
He waited until I had hidden between two bushes,
and then rode slowly forward. It seemed to me this
took great courage. I had often read how buffaloes
were hunted, and knew all about it; but there is a great
difference between a printed page and the real thing.
To-day I had seen buffaloes for the first time in my life;
and though at first I only wished to study them, as I
watched Sam I felt an irresistible longing to join in
the sport. He was going to shoot a young cow.
Pshaw! that, I thought, required no courage; a true
man would choose the strongest bull.
My horse was very restless; he, too, had never seen
buffaloes before, and he pawed the ground, frightened
and so anxious to run that I could scarcely hold him.
Would it not be better to let him go, and attack the old
bull myself? I debated this question inwardly, divided
between desire to go and regard for Sam’s command,
meantime watching his every movement.
He had approached within a hundred feet of the buffaloes,
when he spurred his horse and galloped into the
herd, past the mighty bull, up to the cow which he
had selected. She pricked up her ears, and started to
run. I saw Sam shoot. She staggered, and her head
dropped, but I did not know whether or not she fell, for
my eyes were chained to another spot.
The great bull, which had been lying down, was getting
up, and turned toward Sam Hawkins. What a
mighty beast! The thick head with the enormous
skull, the broad forehead with its short, strong horns,
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the neck and breast covered with the coarse mane, made
a picture of the greatest possible strength. Yes, it was
a marvellous creature, but the sight of him aroused a
longing to measure human strength with this power of
the plains. Should I or should I not? I could not decide,
nor was I sure that my roan would take me towards
him; but just then my frightened horse sprang forth
from our cover, and I resolved to try, and spurred him
towards the bull. He heard me coming, and turned to
meet me, lowering his head to receive horse and rider
on his horns. I heard Sam cry out something with all
his might, but had no time even to glance at him. It
was impossible to shoot the buffalo, for in the first place
he was not in the right position, and in the second
place my horse would not obey me, but for very fear
ran straight towards the threatening horns. The buffalo
braced his hind legs to toss us, and raised his head with
a mighty bellow. Exerting all my strength, I turned
my horse a little, and he leaped over the bull, while the
horns grazed my leg.
My course lay directly towards a mire in which the
buffalo had been sleeping. I saw this, and fortunately
drew my feet from the stirrups; my horse slipped and
we both fell.
How it all happened so quickly is incomprehensible
to me now, but the next moment I stood upright beside
the morass, my gun still in my hand. The buffalo turned
on the horse, which had also risen quickly, and came on
him in ungainly leaps, and this brought his flank under
my fire. I took aim. One more bound and the buffalo
would reach my horse. I pulled the trigger; he stopped,
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whether from fear or because he was hit I did not know,
but I fired again, two shots in rapid succession. He
slowly raised his head, froze my blood with a last
awful roar, swayed from side to side, and fell where he
stood.
I might have rejoiced over this narrow escape, but I
had something else to attend to. I saw Sam Hawkins
galloping for dear life across the valley, followed by a
steer not much smaller than my bull had been.
When the bison is aroused his speed is as great as that
of a horse; he never gives up his object, and shows a
courage and perseverance one would not have expected
of him. So this steer was pressing the rider hard, and
in order to escape him Sam had to make many turns,
which so wearied his horse that he could not hold out
as long as the buffalo, and it was quite time that help
arrived.
I did not stop to see whether or not my bull was
dead. I quickly reloaded both chambers of my gun, and
ran across the grass towards Sam. He saw me, and
turned his horse in my direction. This was a great mistake,
for it brought the horse’s side towards the steer
behind him. I saw him lower his horns, and in an
instant horse and rider were tossed in the air, and fell
to the ground with a dreadful thud. Sam cried for help
as well as he could. I was a good hundred and fifty feet
away, but I dared not delay, though the shot would have
been surer at shorter range. I aimed at the steer’s left
shoulder-blade and fired. The buffalo raised his head
as if listening, turned slowly, then ran at me with all
his might. Luckily for me, his moment of hesitation
.bn 024.png
.pn +1
had given me time to reload, and therefore I was ready
for him by the time the beast had made thirty paces
towards me. He could no longer run; his steps became
slow, but with deep-hanging head and protruding,
bloodshot eyes he came nearer and nearer to me, like
some awful, unavoidable fate. I knelt down and brought
my gun into position. This movement made the buffalo
halt and raise his head a little to see me better,
thus bringing his eyes just in range of both barrels. I
sent one shot into the right, another into the left eye;
a quick shudder went through his body, and the beast
fell dead.
Springing to my feet, I rushed toward Sam; but it was
not necessary, for I saw him approaching.
“Hallo!” I cried, “are you alive?”
“Very much so, only my left hip pains me, or the
right; I’m sure I can’t tell which.”
“And your horse?”
“Done for; he’s still alive, but he’s torn past help.
We’ll have to shoot him to put him out of his misery,
poor fellow. Is the buffalo dead?”
I was not able to answer this question positively, so
we made sure that there was no life in my former foe,
and Hawkins said: “He treated me pretty badly, this
old brute; a cow would have been gentler, but I suppose
you can’t expect such an old soldier to be lady-like. Let
us go to my poor horse.”
We found him in a pitiable condition, torn so that
his entrails protruded, and groaning with agony. Sam
loaded, and gave the poor creature the shot that ended
his suffering, and then he removed the saddle and
.bn 025.png
.pn +1
bridle, saying: “I’ll be my own horse, and put these on
my back.”
“Where will you get another horse?” I asked.
“That’s the least of my troubles; I’ll find one unless
I’m mistaken.”
“A mustang?”
“Yes. The buffaloes are here; they’ve begun travelling
southward, and soon we’ll see the mustangs, I’m
sure of that.”
“May I go with you when you catch one?”
“Sure; you’ll have to learn to do it. I wonder if
that old bull is dead; such Methuselahs are wonderfully
tough.”
But the beast was dead, as we found on investigation;
and as he lay there I realized more fully what a monster
he was. Sam looked him over, shook his head, and said:
“It is perfectly incredible. Do you know what you
are?”
“What?”
“The most reckless man on earth.”
“I’ve never been accused of recklessness before.”
“Well, now you know that ‘reckless’ is the word
for you. I forbade you meddling with a buffalo or leaving
your hiding-place; but if you were going to disobey
me, why didn’t you shoot a cow?”
“Because this was more knightly.”
“Knightly! Great Scott! This tenderfoot wants to
play knight!” He laughed till he had to take hold of
the bushes for support, and when he got his breath he
cried: “The true frontiersman does what is most expedient,
not what’s most knightly.”
.bn 026.png
.pn +1
“And I did that, too.”
“How do you make that out?”
“That big bull has much more flesh on him than a
cow.”
Sam looked at me mockingly. “Much more flesh!”
he cried. “And this youngster shot a bull for his flesh!
Why, boy, this old stager had surely eighteen or twenty
years on his head, and his flesh is as hard as leather,
while the cow’s flesh is fine and tender. All this shows
again what a greenhorn you are. Now go get your
horse, and we’ll load him with all the meat he can
carry.”
In spite of Sam’s mocking me, that night as I stood
unobserved in the door of the tent where he and Stone
and Parker sat by their fire I heard Sam say: “Yes, sir,
he’s going to be a genuine Westerner; he’s born one.
And how strong he is! Yesterday he drew our great ox-cart
alone and single-handed. Now to-day I owe him my
life. But we won’t let him know what we think of him.”
“Why not?” asked Parker.
“It might swell his head,” replied Sam. “Many a
good fellow has been spoiled by praise. I suppose he’ll
think I’m an ungrateful old curmudgeon, for I never
even thanked him for saving my life. But to-morrow
I’ll give him a treat; I’ll take him to catch a mustang,
and, no matter what he thinks, I know how to value
him.”
I crept away, pleased with what I had heard, and
touched by the loving tone of my queer friend’s voice as
he spoke of me.
.bn 027.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch03
CHAPTER III.||WILD MUSTANGS AND LONG-EARED NANCY.
.sp 2
The next morning as I was going to work Sam came
to me, saying: “Put down your instruments; we
have something on hand more interesting than surveying.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see. Get your horse ready; we’re going to
ride.”
“And how about the work?”
“Nonsense! You’ve done your share. However, I
expect to be back by noon, and then you can measure,
as much as you will.”
After arranging with Bancroft for my absence, we
started; and as Sam made a mystery of the object of our
expedition, I said nothing to show that I suspected
what it was.
We went back of the ravine where we were surveying
to a stretch of prairie which Sam had pointed out the
day before. It was two good miles broad, and surrounded
by woody heights, from which flowed a brook
irrigating the plain. We rode to the westerly boundary,
where the grass was freshest, and here Sam securely tied
his horse—his borrowed horse—and let him graze. As
he looked about him an expression of satisfaction shone
on his rugged face, like sunshine on rocks. “Dismount,
.bn 028.png
.pn +1
sir,” he said, “and tie your horse strong; we’ll wait
here.”
“Why tie him so strongly?” I asked, though I knew
well.
“Because you might lose him. I have often seen
horses go off with such companions.”
“Such companions as what?” I asked.
“Try to guess.”
“Mustangs?”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve read that if domestic horses weren’t well tied
they’d join the wild ones when a herd came along.”
“Confound it! you’ve read so much a man can’t get
the best of you.”
“Do you want to get the best of me?”
“Of course. But look, the mustangs have been here.”
“Are those their tracks?”
“Yes; they went through here yesterday. It was a
scouting party. Let me tell you that these beasts are
uncommonly sharp. They always send out little advance-parties,
which have their officers exactly like soldiers,
and the commander is the strongest and most experienced
horse. They travel in circular formation,
stallions outside, mares next them inside, and the foals
in the middle, in order that the males may protect the
mares and young. I have already shown you how
to catch a mustang with a lasso; do you remember?
Would you like to capture one?”
“Certainly I would.”
“Well, you’ll have a chance before noon to-day.”
“Thanks, but I don’t intend to catch one.”
.bn 029.png
.pn +1
“The dickens you don’t! And why not?”
“Because I don’t need a horse.”
“But a real frontiersman never asks whether he
needs a horse or not.”
“Now look here, Sam; only yesterday you were speaking
of the brutal way the white men, though they do
not need meat, kill the buffaloes in masses, depriving
the Indians of their food. We agreed that was a crime
against beasts and men.”
“Assuredly.”
“This is a similar case. I should do wrong to rob one
of these glorious fellows of his freedom unless I needed
a horse.”
“That’s well said, young man; bravely said. Any
man, any Christian worth calling so, would feel thus;
but who said anything about robbing him of his freedom?
Just put your education in lasso-throwing to
the proof, that’s all.”
“That’s a different thing; I’ll do that.”
“All right; and I’ll use one in earnest, for I do need
a horse. I’ve often told you, and now I’ll say again:
Sit strong in your saddle, control your horse well
when you feel the lasso tighten, and pull; for if you
don’t you’ll be unseated, and the mustang will gallop
off, taking your horse and lasso with him. Then you’ll
lose your mount and be, like me, only a common foot-soldier.”
He was about to give more advice, but stopped suddenly,
and pointed to the northern end of the prairie.
There stood a horse, one single, solitary horse. He
walked slowly forward, not stopping to graze, turning
.bn 030.png
.pn +1
his head first to one side, then to the other, snuffing the
air as he came.
“Do you see?” whispered Sam. “Didn’t I tell you
they’d come? That’s the scout come on ahead to see
if all’s safe. He’s a wise beast! See how he looks in all
directions! He won’t discover us, though, for we have
the wind towards us.”
The mustang broke into a trot, running to the right,
then to the left, and finally turned and disappeared as
we had seen him come.
“Did you see him?” cried Sam admiringly. “How
wise he is! An Indian scout could not have done
better.”
“That’s so; I’m surprised at him.”
“Now he’s gone back to tell his general the air is
pure. How we fooled him! They’ll all be here shortly.
You ride back to the other end of the prairie, and wait
there, while I go towards them and hide in the trees.
When they come I’ll chase them, and they’ll fly in your
direction; then you show yourself, and they’ll turn back
towards me. So we’ll drive them back and forth till
we’ve picked out the two best horses, and we’ll catch
them and choose between them. Do you agree?”
“How can you ask? I know nothing of the art of
mustang-catching, of which you are past master, and
I’ve nothing to do but follow your directions.”
“All right. I have caught mustangs before to-day,
and I hope you’re not far wrong in calling me a ‘master’
of that trade. Now let’s take our places.”
We turned and rode in opposite directions, he northward,
I southward to the spot where we had entered the
.bn 031.png
.pn +1
prairie. I got behind some little trees, made one end of
the lasso fast, and coiled the other ready for use. The
further end of the prairie was so far off that I could not
see the mustangs when they first appeared, but after I
had been waiting a quarter of an hour I saw what looked
like a dark cloud rapidly increasing in size and advancing
in my direction. At first it seemed to be made up
of objects about as big as sparrows, then they seemed like
cats, dogs, calves, and at last I saw them in their own
proportions. They were the mustangs in wild gallop,
coming towards me. What a sight these lordly beasts
were, with their manes flying about their necks, and
their tails streaming like plumes in the wind! There
were at least three hundred head, and the earth seemed
to tremble beneath the pounding of their hoofs. A white
stallion led them, a noble creature that any man might
be glad to capture, only no prairie hunter would ride a
white horse, for he would be too conspicuous to his
enemies.
Now was the time to show myself. I came out, and
the startled leader sprang back as though an arrow had
pierced him. The herd halted; one loud, eager whinny
from the white stallion which plainly meant: Wheel,
squadron! and the splendid fellow turned, followed by
all his companions, and tore back whence they had
come. I followed slowly; there was no hurry, for I knew
Sam Hawkins would drive them back to me. I wanted
to make sure I was right in what I had seen, for in the
brief instant the herd had halted it seemed to me that
one of them was not a horse, but a mule. The animal
that I thought a mule had been in the front ranks, immediately
.bn 032.png
.pn +1
behind the leader, and so seemed not merely
to be tolerated by its companions, but to hold honorable
rank among them.
Once again the herd came towards me, and I saw that
I was not mistaken, but that a mule really was among
them, a mule of a delicate light brown color, with dark
back-stripe, and which I thought had the biggest head
and the longest ears I had ever seen. Mules are more
suitable for rough mountain-riding than horses, are
surer-footed, and less likely to fall into abysses—a fact
worth consideration. To be sure they are obstinate, and
I have known a mule be beaten half to death rather
than take another step, not because it was overladen
or the way was hard, but simply because it would not.
It seemed to me that this mule showed more spirit than
the horses, and that its eyes gleamed brighter and more
intelligently than theirs, and I resolved to capture it.
Evidently it had escaped from its former owner and
joined the mustangs.
Now once more Sam turned the herd, and we had
approached each other till I could see him. The mustangs
could no longer run back and forth; they turned
to the side, we following them. The herd had divided,
and I saw that the mule was with the more important
part, still keeping beside the white horse, and proving
itself an unusually strong and swift animal. I pursued
this band, and Sam seemed to have the same design.
“Get around them; I left, you right,” he shouted.
We spurred our horses, and not only kept up with the
mustangs, but rode so swiftly that we headed them off
from the woods. They began to scatter to all sides like
.bn 033.png
.pn +1
chickens when a hawk swoops down among them; and
as we both chased the white stallion and the mule, Sam
cried: “You’ll always be a greenhorn. Who else would
pick out a white horse?”
I answered him, but his loud laugh drowned my reply,
and if he thought I was after the white horse it did not
much matter. I left the mule to his tender care, and in
a moment he had come so near her that he threw the
lasso.
The noose encircled the beast’s neck, and now Sam
had to hold on as he had directed me to do, and throw
himself backward to make the lasso hold when it tautened.
This he did, but a moment too late; his horse did
not obey on the instant, and was thrown by the force of
the jerk. Sam flew through the air, and landed on the
ground with a thump. The horse shook himself free,
and was up and off in a moment, and the mule with
him, since the lasso was fast to the saddle-bow.
I hastened to see if Sam was hurt, and found him
standing, much shaken, but not otherwise the worse.
He said to me in mournful tones: “There go Dick
Stone’s chestnut and the mule without saying good-by.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. Jump down and give me your horse.”
“What for?”
“To catch them, of course. Hurry up.”
“Not much; you might turn another somersault, and
then both our horses would be gone to the four winds.”
With these words I put my horse after the mule and
Dick’s horse. Already they were in trouble, one pulling
one way, the other another, and held together by the
.bn 034.png
.pn +1
lasso, so I could easily come up with them. It never
entered my head to use my lasso, but I grabbed the one
holding them, wound it around my hand, and felt sure
the day was won. I drew the noose tighter and tighter,
thus easily controlling the mule, and brought her back,
together with the horse, in apparent subjection to where
Sam stood.
Then I suddenly pulled the noose taut, when the
mule lost her breath and fell to the ground.
“Hold on fast till I have the rascal, and then let
go,” shouted Sam, springing to the side of the prostrate
beast. “Now!” he cried.
I let go the lasso, and the mule instantly jumped up,
but not before Sam was on her back. She stood motionless
a moment in surprise, then rushed from side to side,
then stood first on her hind legs, then on her fore legs,
and finally jumped into the air with all four bunched
together, and her back arched like a cat’s. But still
little Sam sat fast.
“Don’t get near; she’s going to try her last hope and
run away, but I’ll bring her back tamed,” shouted Sam.
He proved to be mistaken, however; she only ran a
little way, and then deliberately lay down and rolled.
This was too much for Sam’s ribs; he had to get out of
the saddle. I jumped from my horse, seized the lasso,
and wound it around some tough roots near at hand.
The mule, finding she had no rider, got up and started
to run off; but the roots were strong, the noose drew
tight, and again the animal fell. Sam had retired to one
side, feeling his legs and ribs, and making a face as if
he had eaten sauerkraut and marmalade.
.bn 035.png
.pn +1
“Let the beast go,” he said. “I believe nobody can
conquer her.”
“Well, I guess not,” said I. “No animal whose
father was no gentleman, but a donkey, is going to
shame me. She’s got to mind me. Look out.”
I unwound the lasso from the bushes, and stood
astride the mule, which at once got up, feeling herself
freed. Now it was a question of strength of legs, and in
this I far surpassed Sam. If a rider presses his beast’s
ribs with strong knees it causes intense pain. As the
mule began to try to throw me as she had Sam, I caught
up the lasso, half hanging on the ground, and fastened
it tight behind the noose. This I drew whenever she
began any of her tricks, and by this means and pressure
of the knees I contrived to keep her on all fours.
It was a bitter struggle, strength against strength. I
began to sweat from every pore, but the mule was dripping,
and foam fell from her lips in great flakes. Her
struggles grew more and more feeble, her heavy breathing
became short gasps, till at last she gave in altogether,
not willingly, but because she was at her last
limit, and stood motionless with bulging eyes. I drew
long, deep breaths; it seemed to me as if every bone
and sinew in my body were broken.
“Heavens! what a man you are!” cried Sam.
“You’re stronger than the brute! If you could see
your face you would be scared; your eyes are staring,
your lips are swollen, your cheeks are actually blue.”
“I suppose so; that comes of being a tenderfoot who
won’t be beaten, while his teacher gives in and lets a
horse and a mule conquer him.”
.bn 036.png
.pn +1
Sam made a wry face. “Now let up, young fellow.
I tell you the best hunter gets whipped sometimes.”
“Very likely. How are your ribs and other little
bones?”
“I don’t know; I’ll have to count ’em to find out.
That’s a fine beast you have under you there.”
“She is indeed. See how patiently she stands; one
feels sorry for her. Shall we saddle and bridle her and
go back?”
The poor mule stood quiet, trembling in every limb;
nor did she try to resist when we put saddle and bridle
on her, but obeyed the bit like a well-broken horse.
“She’s had a master before,” said Sam. “I’m going to
call her Nancy, for I once had a mule by that name, and
it’s too much trouble to get used to another. And I’m
going to ask you to do me a favor.”
“Gladly; what is it?”
“Don’t tell at the camp what has happened this
morning, for they’d have nine days’ sport with me.”
“Of course I won’t; you’re my teacher and friend, so
I’ll keep your secrets.”
His queer face lighted up with pleasure. “Yes, I’m
your friend, and if I knew you had a little liking for me,
my old heart would be warmed and rejoiced.”
I stretched out my hand to him, surprised and
touched. “I can easily give you that pleasure, dear
Sam,” I said. “You may be sure I honestly care for
you with real respect and affection.”
He shook my hand, looking so delighted that even my
young self-sufficiency could perceive how lonely this
.bn 037.png
.pn +1
rough, cranky old frontiersman was, and how great was
his yearning for human sympathy.
I fastened Dick Stone’s horse with the lasso, and
mounting mine, as Sam got on Nancy, we rode away.
“She’s been educated, this new Nancy, in a very good
school,” Sam remarked presently. “I see at every step
she is going to be all right, and is regaining the old
knowledge which she had forgotten among the mustangs.
I hope she has not only temperament but character.”
“We’ve had two good days, Sam,” I said.
“Bad ones for me, except in getting Nancy; and bad
for you, too, in one way, but mighty honorable.”
“Oh, I’ve done nothing; I came West to get experience.
I hope to have a chance at other sport.”
“Well, I hope it will come more easily; yesterday
your life hung by a hair. You risked too much. Never
forget you’re a greenhorn tenderfoot. The idea of
creeping up to shoot a buffalo in the eye! Did ever any
one hear the like? But though hunting buffaloes is
dangerous, bear-hunting is far more so.”
“Black bear?”
“Nonsense! The grizzly. You’ve read of him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, be glad you don’t know him outside of books;
and take care you don’t, for you might have a chance to
meet him. He sometimes comes about such places as this,
following the rivers even as far as the prairie. I’ll tell
you more of him another time; here we are at the camp.”
“A mule, a mule! Where did you get her, Hawkins?”
cried all the men.
.bn 038.png
.pn +1
“By special delivery from Washington, for a ten-cent
stamp. Would you like to see the envelope?” asked
Sam, dismounting.
Though they were curious, none asked further questions,
for, like the beast he had captured, when Sam
wouldn’t he wouldn’t, and that was the end of it.
.bn 039.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch04
CHAPTER IV.||A GRIZZLY AND A MEETING.
.sp 2
The morning after Sam and I had caught Miss
Nancy we moved our camp onward to begin labor on the
next section of the road. Hawkins, Stone, and Parker
did not help in this, for Sam was anxious to experiment
further with Nancy’s education, and the other two accompanied
him to the prairie, where they had sufficient
room to carry out this purpose. We surveyors transferred
our instruments ourselves, helped by one of Rattler’s
men, while Rattler himself loafed around doing
nothing.
We came to the spot where I had killed the two buffaloes,
and to my surprise I saw that the body of the old
bull was gone, leaving a broad trail of crushed grass
that led to the adjoining thicket.
“I thought you had made sure both bulls were
dead,” Rattler exclaimed. “The big one must have had
some life in him.”
“Think so?” I asked.
“Of course, unless you think a dead buffalo can take
himself off.”
“Must he have taken himself off? Perhaps it was
done for him.”
“Yes, but who did it?”
.bn 040.png
.pn +1
“Possibly Indians; we saw an Indian’s footprint
over yonder.”
“You don’t say! How well a greenhorn can explain
things!” sneered Rattler. “If it was done by Indians,
where do you think they came from? Dropped from
the skies? Because if they came from anywhere else
we’d see their tracks. No, there was life in that buffalo,
and he crawled into the thicket, where he must have
died. I’m going to look for him.”
He started off, followed by his men. He may have
expected me to go, too, but it was far from my thoughts,
for I did not like the way he had spoken. I wanted to
work, and did not care a button what had become of the
old bull. So I went back to my employment, and had
only just taken up the measuring-rod, when a cry of
horror rang from the thicket, two, three shots echoed,
and then I heard Rattler cry: “Up the tree, quick! up
the tree, or you’re lost! he can’t climb.”
Who could not climb? One of Rattler’s men burst
out of the thicket, writhing like one in mortal agony.
“What is it? What’s happened?” I shouted.
“A bear, a tremendous grizzly bear!” he gasped, as I
ran up to him.
And within the thicket an agonized voice cried:
“Help, help! He’s got me!” in the tone of a man who
saw the jaws of death yawning before him.
Evidently the man was in extreme danger, and must
be helped quickly, but how? I had left my gun in the
tent, for in working it hindered me; nor was this an
oversight, since we surveyors had the frontiersmen purposely
to guard us at our work. If I went to the
.bn 041.png
.pn +1
tent to get the gun, the bear would have torn the man
to shreds before I could get back; I must go to him as
I was with a knife and two revolvers stuck in my belt,
and what were these against a grizzly bear?
The grizzly is a near relation of the extinct cave-bear,
and really belongs more to primeval days than to the
present. It grows to a great size, and its strength is
such that it can easily carry off a deer, a colt, or a young
buffalo cow in its jaws. The Indians hold the killing of
a grizzly a brilliant feat, because of its absolute fearlessness
and inexhaustible endurance.
So it was to meet such a foe that I sprang into the
thicket. The trail led further within, where the trees
began, and where the bear had dragged the buffalo. It
was a dreadful moment. Behind me I could hear the
voices of the engineers; before me were the frontiersmen
screaming, and between them and me, in indescribable
agony, was their companion whom the bear had
seized.
I pushed further in, and heard the voice of the bear;
for, though this mighty beast differs from others of the
bear family in not growling, when in pain or anger it
utters something like a loud, harsh breathing and
grunting.
And now I was on the scene. Before me lay the torn
body of the buffalo, to right and left were the men, who
were comparatively safe, having taken to the trees,
which a grizzly bear seldom has been known to climb,
if ever. One of the men had tried to get up a tree like
the others, but had been overtaken by the bear. He
hung by both arms hooked to the lowest limb, while
.bn 042.png
.pn +1
the grizzly reached up and held him fast with its fore
paws around the lower part of his body.
The man was almost dead; his case was hopeless. I
could not help him, and no one could have blamed me
if I had gone away and saved myself. But the desperation
of the moment seemed to impel me onward. I
snatched up a discarded gun, only to find it already
emptied. Taking it by the muzzle I sprang over the
buffalo, and dealt the bear a blow on the skull with all
my might. The gun shattered like glass in my hand;
even a blow with a battle-axe would have no effect on
such a skull; but I had the satisfaction of distracting
the grizzly’s attention from its victim.
It turned its head toward me, not quickly, like a wild
beast of the feline or canine family, but slowly, as if
wondering at my stupidity. It seemed to measure me
with its little eyes, deciding, between going at me or
sticking to its victim; and to this slight hesitation I
owe my life, for in that instant the only possible way
to save myself came to me. I drew a revolver, sprang
directly at the bear, and shot it, once, twice, thrice,
straight in the eyes, as I had the buffalo.
Of course this was rapidly done, and at once I jumped
to one side, and stood still with my knife drawn. Had
I remained where I was, my life would have paid for
my rashness, for the blinded beast turned quickly from
the tree, and threw itself on the spot where I had stood
a moment before. I was not there, and the bear sought
me with angry mutterings and heavy breathing. It
wheeled around like a mad thing, hugged itself, rose on
.bn 043.png
.pn +1
its hind legs, reaching and springing all around to find
me, but fortunately I was out of reach. Its sense of
smell would have guided it to me, but it was mad with
rage and pain, and this prevented its instinct from serving
it.
At last it turned its attention more to its misfortune
than to him who had caused it. It sat down, and with
sobs and gnashing of teeth laid its fore paws over its
eyes. I was sorry that necessity for saving human life
was causing the big fellow such pain, and, with pity for
it, as well as desire for my own safety, tried to make it
short. Quickly I stood beside it and stabbed it twice
between the ribs. Instantly it grabbed for me, but once
more I sprang out of the way. I had not pierced its
heart, and it began seeking me with redoubled fury.
This continued for fully ten minutes. It had lost
a great deal of blood, and evidently was dying; it sat
down again to mourn its poor lost eyes. This gave me
a chance for two rapidly repeated knife-thrusts, and this
time I aimed better; it sank forward, as again I sprang
aloof, made a feeble step to one side, then back, tried
to rise, but had not sufficient strength, swayed back and
forth in trying to get on its feet, and then stretched out
and was still.
“Thank God!” cried Rattler from his tree, “the
beast is dead. That was a close call we had.”
“I don’t see that it was a close call for you,” I replied.
“You took good care of your own safety. Now
you can come down.”
“Not yet; you make sure it’s truly dead.”
.bn 044.png
.pn +1
“It is dead.”
“You don’t know; you haven’t an idea how tough
such a creature is. Go examine it.”
“If you doubt me, examine it yourself; you’re an
experienced frontiersman, and I’m a tenderfoot, you
know.”
So saying I turned to his comrade, who still hung on
the tree in on awful plight. His face was torn, and his
wide-open eyes were glassy, the flesh was stripped from
the bones of his legs, and he was partly disembowelled.
I conquered the horror of the sight enough to say:
“Let go, my poor fellow; I will take you down.” He
did not answer, or show any sign of having heard me,
and I called his comrades to help me. Only after I had
made sure the bear was dead would the courageous
gang come down from their trees, when we gently removed
the wounded man. This required strength to
accomplish, for his arms had wound tightly around the
tree, and stiffened there: he was dead.
This horrible end did not seem to affect his companions
in the least, for they turned from him to the bear,
and their leader said: “Now things are reversed; the
bear meant to eat us, but we will eat it. Quick, you
fellows, take its pelt, and let us get at the paws and
steak.”
He drew his knife and knelt down to carry out his
words, but I checked him. “It would have been more
fitting if you had used your knife when it was alive.
Now it’s too late; don’t give yourself the trouble.”
“What!” he cried. “Do you mean to hinder me?”
“Most emphatically I do, Mr. Rattler.”
.bn 045.png
.pn +1
“By what right?”
“By the most indisputable right. I killed that
bear.”
“That’s not so. Maybe you think a greenhorn can
kill a grizzly with a knife! As soon as we saw it we
shot it.”
“And immediately got up a tree! Yes, that’s very
true.”
“You bet it’s true, and our shots killed it, not the two
little needle-pricks of your knife. The bear is ours,
and we’ll do with it what we like. Understand?”
He started to work again, but I said coolly: “Stop
this minute, Rattler. I’ll teach you to respect my
words; do you understand?” And as he bent forward
to stick the knife into the bear’s hide I put both arms
around his hips and, raising him, threw him against the
next tree so hard that it cracked. I was too angry just
then to care whether he or the tree broke, and as he flew
across the space I drew my second and unused revolver,
to be ready for the next move.
He got up, looked at me with eyes blazing with rage,
drew his knife, and cried: “You shall pay for this. You
knocked me down once before; I’ll see it doesn’t happen
a third time.” He made a step towards me, but I
covered him with my pistol, saying: “One step more
and you’ll have a bullet in your head. Drop that knife.
When I say ‘three’ I’ll shoot you if you still hold it.
Now: One, two—” He held the knife tight, and I should
have shot him, not in the head, but in the hand, for he
had to learn to respect me; but luckily I did not get so
far, for at this moment a loud voice cried: “Men, are
.bn 046.png
.pn +1
you mad? What reason have the whites to tear out one
another’s eyes? Stop!”
We looked in the direction whence the voice came,
and saw a man appearing from behind the trees. He
was small, thin, and hunchbacked, clad and armed like
a red man. One could not tell whether he was an
Indian or a white; his sharp-cut features indicated the
former, while the tint of his face, although sunburned,
was that of a white man. He was bareheaded, and his
dark hair hung to his shoulders. He wore leather
trousers, a hunting-shirt of the same material, and moccasins,
and was armed with a knife and gun. His eyes
shone with unusual intelligence, and there was nothing
ridiculous in his deformity. Indeed, none but stupid
and brutal men ever laugh at bodily defects; but Rattler
was of this class, for as soon as he looked at the
new-comer he cried:
“Hallo! What kind of a freak comes here? Do
such queer things grow in the big West?”
The stranger looked at him calmly, and answered
quietly: “Thank God that your limbs are sound. It
is by the heart and soul that men are judged, and I
should not fear a comparison with you in those respects.”
He made a gesture of contempt, and turned to me,
saying: “You are strong, young sir; it is not every one
can send a man flying through the air as you did just
now; it was wonderful to see.” Then touching the
grizzly with his foot, he added: “And this is the game
we wanted, but we came too late. We discovered its
tracks yesterday, and followed over hill and dale,
.bn 047.png
.pn +1
through thick and thin, only to find the work done
when we came up with it.”
“You speak in the plural; are you not alone?” I
asked.
“No; I have two companions with me. But before I
tell you who they are, will you introduce yourselves?
You know one cannot be too cautious here, where we
meet more bad men than good ones.” He glanced significantly
at Rattler and his followers, but instantly
added in a friendly tone: “However, one can tell a
gentleman that can be trusted. I heard the last part of
your discussion, and know pretty well where I stand.”
“We are surveyors, sir,” I explained. “We are locating
a railroad to go through here.”
“Surveyors! Have you purchased the right to build
your road?”
His face became stern as he asked the question, for
which he seemed to have some reason; so I replied: “I
have occupied myself with my task, and never thought
of asking.”
“Ah, yes; but you must know where you are. Consider:
these lands whereon we stand are the property of the
Indians; they belong to the Apaches of the Mascaleros
tribe. I am sure, if you are sent to survey, the ground
is being marked out by the whites for some one else.”
“What is that to you?” Rattler cried. “Don’t
bother yourself with the affairs of others. Any one can
see you are a white man.”
“I am an Apache, one of the Mascaleros,” the
stranger said quietly. “I am Kleki-Petrah.”
This name in the Apache tongue is equivalent to
.bn 048.png
.pn +1
White Father, and Rattler seemed to have heard it
before. He bowed with mock deference, and said: “Ah,
Kleki-Petrah, the venerated school-master of the
Apaches! It’s a pity you are deformed, for it must
annoy you to be laughed at by the braves.”
“They never do that, sir. Well-bred people are not
amused by such things, and the braves are gentlemen.
Since I know who you are and why you are here, I will
tell you who my companions are, or perhaps you had
better meet them.”
He called in the Indian tongue, and two extraordinarily
interesting figures appeared, and came slowly towards
us. They were Indians, father and son, as one
could see at the first glance. The elder was a little
above medium height, very strongly built. His air was
truly noble; his earnest face was of pure Indian type,
but not so sharp and keen as that of most red men. His
eyes had a calm, gentle expression, like one much given
to contemplation. His head was bare, his hair worn in
a knot in which was stuck an eagle’s feather, the badge
of chieftainship. His dress consisted of moccasins,
leather leggings, and hunting-jacket, very simple and
unadorned. From his belt, in which a knife was thrust,
hung all the appointments necessary to a dweller on the
plains. A medicine-charm with sacred inscriptions cut
around its face hung from his neck, and in his hand he
carried a double-barrelled gun, the handle adorned with
silver nails.
The younger man was clad like his father, except that
his garments were showier; his leggings were beautifully
fringed, and his hunting-shirt was embellished with
.bn 049.png
.pn +1
scarlet needlework. He also wore a medicine-charm
around his neck, and a calumet; like his father he was
armed with a knife and a double-barrelled gun. He,
too, was bareheaded, his hair bound in a knot, but without
the feather; it was so long that the end below the
knot fell thick and heavy on his shoulders, and many a
fine lady might have coveted it. His face was even
nobler than his father’s, its color a light brown with a
touch of bronze. He seemed to be, as I afterwards
learned he was, of the same age as myself, and his appearance
made as profound an impression on me then,
when I saw him first, as his character has left upon me
to-day, after our long friendship.
We looked at one another long and searchingly, and
I thought I saw for a moment in his earnest, dark eyes
a friendly light gleam upon me.
“These are my friends and companions,” said Kleki-Petrah,
introducing first the father, then the son.
“This is Intschu-Tschuna [Good Sun], the chief of the
Mascaleros, whom all Apaches acknowledge as their
head. And here stands his son Winnetou, who already
in his youth has accomplished more deeds of renown
than any ten old warriors have in all their lives. His
name will be known and honored as far as the prairies
and Rockies extend.”
This sounded like exaggeration, but later I found
that he had spoken only the truth.
Rattler laughed insultingly, and said: “So young a
fellow, and committed such deeds? I say committed purposely,
for every one knows they are only deeds of robbery
and cruelty. The red men steal from every one.”
.bn 050.png
.pn +1
This was an outrageous insult, but the Indians acted
as though they had not heard it. Stooping down over
the bear, Kleki-Petrah admired it, calling Winnetou’s
attention to its size and strength. “It was killed by a
knife and not a bullet,” he said as he rose.
Evidently, I thought, he had heard the dispute and
wished me to have justice.
“What does a school-master know of bear-hunting?”
said Rattler. “When we take the skin off we can see
what killed him. I won’t be robbed of my rights by a
greenhorn.”
Then Winnetou bent down, touched the bloody wound,
and asked me in good English: “Who stabbed the beast?”
“I did,” I replied.
“Why did not my young white brother shoot him?”
“Because I had no gun with me.”
“Yet here are guns.”
“They are not mine; they were thrown away by these
men when they climbed the trees shrieking with terror.”
“Ugh! the low cowards and dogs, to fly like tissue-paper!
A man should make resistance, for if he has
courage he may conquer the strongest brute. My young
white brother has such courage.”
“My son speaks truly,” added the father in as perfect
English. “This brave young pale-face is no longer
a greenhorn. He who kills a grizzly in this manner is a
hero; and he who does it to save those who climb trees
deserves thanks, not insults. Let us go to visit the pale-faces
that have come into our dominion.”
They were but three, and did not know how many we
numbered, but that never occurred to them. With slow
.bn 051.png
.pn +1
and dignified strides they went out of the thicket, we
following.
Then for the first time Intschu-Tschuna saw the surveying
instruments standing as we had left them, and,
stopping suddenly, he turned to me, demanding: “What
is this? Are the pale-faces measuring the land?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Why?”
“For a railroad.”
His eyes lost their calmness, and he asked sternly:
“Do you obey these people, and measure with them?”
“Yes.”
“And are paid for it?”
“Yes.”
He threw a scornful glance upon me, and in a contemptuous
tone he said to Kleki-Petrah: “Your teachings
sound well, but they do not often agree with what
I see. Christians deceive and rob the Indians. Here is
a young pale-face with a brave heart, open face, honorable
eyes, and when I ask what he does here he tells me
he has come to steal our land. The faces of the white
men are good and bad, but inside they are all alike.”
To be honest, his words filled me with shame. Could
I well be proud of my share in this matter—I, a Catholic,
who had been taught so early: “Thou shalt not
covet thy neighbor’s goods”? I blushed for my race
and for myself before this fine savage; and before I
could rally enough even to try to reply, the head engineer,
who had been watching us through a hole in the
tent, came forth to meet us, and my thoughts were
diverted by what then took place.
.bn 052.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch05
CHAPTER V.||THE SPEECH OF THE APACHE CHIEF.
.sp 2
The first question the head engineer asked as we
came up, although he was surprised to see the Indians
with us, was what had become of the bear.
Rattler instantly replied: “We’ve shot him, and we’ll
have bear-paws for dinner, and bear-steak to-night for
supper.”
Our three guests looked at me as if to see whether I
would let this pass, and I said: “I claim to have stabbed
the bear. Here are three witnesses who have corroborated
my statement; but we’ll wait till Hawkins, Stone,
and Parker come, and they will give their opinion, by
which we will be guided. Till then the bear must lie
untouched.”
“Not much will I leave it to the scouts,” growled
Rattler. “I’ll go with my men and cut up the bear, and
whoever tries to hinder us will be driven off with a
dozen shots in his body.”
“Hold on, Mr. Rattler,” said I. “I’m not as much
afraid of your shots as you were of the bear. You won’t
drive me up a tree with your threats. I recommend you
to bury your dead comrade; I would not leave him lying
thus.”
“Is some one dead?” asked Bancroft, startled.
.bn 053.png
.pn +1
“Yes, Rollins,” Rattler replied. “The poor fellow
had jumped for a tree, like the rest of us, and would
have been all right, but this greenhorn came up, excited
the bear, and it tore Rollins horribly.”
I stood speechless with amazement that he should
dare go so far. It was impossible to endure such lying,
and in my very presence. I turned on Rattler and demanded:
“Do you mean to say Rollins was escaping,
and I prevented it?”
“Yes,” he nodded, drawing his revolver.
“And I say the bear had seized him before I came.”
“That’s a lie,” said Rattler.
“Very well; here’s a truth for you,” and with these
words I knocked his revolver from his hand with my
left, and with the right gave him such a blow on the
ear that he staggered six or eight feet away, and fell flat
on the ground.
He sprang up, drew his knife, and came at me raging
like a wild beast. I parried the knife-thrust with my
left hand, and with my right laid him senseless at my
feet.
“Ugh! ugh!” grunted Intschu-Tschuna, surprised
into admiration, which his race rarely betray.
“That was Shatterhand again,” said Wheeler, the
surveyor.
I kept my eye on Rattler’s comrades; they were angry,
but no one dared attack me, and though they muttered
among themselves they did no more.
“You must send Rattler away, Mr. Bancroft,” I said.
“I have done nothing to him, yet he constantly seeks a
quarrel with me. I am afraid he’ll make serious trouble
.bn 054.png
.pn +1
in the camp. Send him away, or, if you prefer, I’ll go
myself.”
“Oh, things aren’t as bad as that,” said Bancroft
easily.
“Yes, they are, just as bad as that. Here are his
knife and revolver; don’t let him have them, for I warn
you they’d not be in good hands.”
Just as I spoke these words our three scouts joined
us, and having heard the story of Rattler’s lying claim,
and my counter-statement, they set off at once to examine
the bear’s carcass to settle the dispute. They returned
in a short time, and as soon as he was within hailing distance
Sam called out: “What idiocy it was to shoot a
grizzly and then run! If a man doesn’t intend making a
fight, then what on earth does he shoot for? Why
doesn’t he leave the bear in peace? You can’t treat
grizzlies like poodle-dogs. Poor Rollins paid dear for it,
though. Now, who killed that bear, did you say?”
“I did,” cried Rattler, who had come to. “I killed
him with my gun.”
“Well, that agrees; that’s all right. The bear was
shot.”
“Do you hear that, men? Sam Hawkins has decided
for me,” cried Rattler triumphantly.
“Yes, for you,” said Sam. “You shot him, and took
off the tip of his ear, and such a loss naturally ended the
grizzly, ha! ha! ha! If you shot again it went wide of
the mark, for there’s no other gun-shot on him. But
there are four true knife-thrusts, two above the heart
and two in it; who gave him those?”
“I did,” I said.
.bn 055.png
.pn +1
“You alone?”
“No one else.”
“Then the bear belongs to you. That is, the pelt is
yours; the flesh belongs to all, but you have the right to
divide it. This is the custom of the West. Have you
anything to say, Mr. Rattler?”
Rattler growled something that condemned us to a
much warmer climate, and turned sullenly to the wagon
where the liquor was stored. I saw him pour down
glass after glass, and knew he would drink till he could
drink no more.
The Indians had listened to our discussion, and
watched us in silent interest; but now, our affairs being
settled, the chief, Intschu-Tschuna, turned to the head
engineer, saying: “My ear has told me that among these
pale-faces you are chief; is this so?”
“Yes,” Bancroft replied.
“Then I have something to say to you.”
“What is it?”
“You shall hear. But you are standing, and men
should sit in conference.”
“Will you be our guest?” asked Bancroft.
“No, for it is impossible. How can I be your guest
when you are on my lands, in my forests, my valleys, my
prairies? Let the white men be seated.”
“Tell me what you wish of me,” said Bancroft.
“It is not a wish, but a command,” answered
Intschu-Tschuna proudly.
“We will take no command,” responded the head
engineer with equal pride.
A look of anger passed over the chief’s face, but he
.bn 056.png
.pn +1
controlled himself, and said mildly: “My white brother
will answer me one question truthfully. Have you a
house?”
“Yes.”
“With a garden?”
“Yes.”
“If a neighbor would cut a path through that garden
would my brother submit to it?”
“No.”
“The lands beyond the Rocky Mountains and east
of the Mississippi belong to the pale-faces. What would
they say if the Indians came to build a railroad there?”
“They would drive them away.”
“My white brother has answered truly. But the pale-faces
come here on these lands of ours, and drive away
our mustangs and kill our buffaloes; they seek among us
for gold and precious stones, and now they will build a
long, long road on which their fire-horses can run. Then
more pale-faces will follow this road, and settle among
us, and take the little we have left us. What are we
to say to this?”
Bancroft was silent.
“Have we fewer rights than they? You call yourselves
Christians, and speak of love, yet you say: We
can rob and cheat you, but you must be honest with us.
Is that love? You say your God is the Good Father
of all men, red and white. Is He only our stepfather,
and are you His own sons? Did not all the land
belong to the red man? It has been taken from us, and
what have we instead? Misery, misery, misery. You
drive us ever farther and farther back, and press us
.bn 057.png
.pn +1
closer and closer together, and in a little time we shall
be suffocated. Why do you do this? Is it because you
have not room enough? No, for there is room in your
lands still for many, many millions. Each of your tribes
can have a whole State, but the red man, the true owner,
may not have a place to lay his head. Kleki-Petrah, who
sits here before me, has taught me your Holy Book.
There it says that the first man had two sons, and one
killed the other, and his blood cried to Heaven. How is
it with the two brothers, the red and the white? Are
you not Cain, and are we not Abel, whose blood cries to
Heaven? And when you try to destroy us you wish us
to make no defence. But we will defend ourselves, we
will defend ourselves. We have been driven from place
to place, ever farther away; now we abide here, where we
believed ourselves at rest, but you come to build your
railroad. Have we not the same rights you have over
your house and garden? If we followed our own laws
we should kill you; but we only wish your laws to be
fulfilled towards us: are they? No! Your laws have
two faces, and you turn them to us as it suits your
advantage. Have you asked our permission to build this
road?”
“No,” said Bancroft. “It was not necessary.”
“Have you bought the land, or have we sold it?”
“Not to me.”
“Nor to any other. Were you an honest man sent
here to build a way for the fire-horse, you would first
have asked the man who sent you whether he had a
right to do this thing, and made him prove it. But this
you have not done. I forbid you to measure further.”
.bn 058.png
.pn +1
These last words were spoken in a tone of most bitter
earnest.
I had read much of the red man, but never had found
in any book such a speech from an Indian, and I wondered
if he owed his fluent English and forcible logic
to Kleki-Petrah.
The head engineer found himself in an awkward predicament.
If he was honest and sincere he could not
gainsay what Intschu-Tschuna had spoken; but there
were considerations more weighty with Bancroft than
honesty, so the chief had to wait his answer, looking
him straight in the eyes.
Seeing that Bancroft was shifting about in his mind
for a way out of his difficulty, Intschu-Tschuna rose,
saying decidedly: “There is no need of further speech.
I have spoken. My will is that you leave here to-day,
and go back whence you came. Decide whether you will
obey or not. I will now depart with my son Winnetou,
and will return at the end of that time which the pale-faces
call an hour, when you will give me your answer.
If you go, we are brothers; if you stay, it shall be deadly
enmity between you and me. I am Intschu-Tschuna,
the chief of all the Apaches. I have spoken.”
Winnetou followed him as he went out from among
us, and they were soon lost to sight down the valley.
Kleki-Petrah remained seated, and Bancroft turned
to him and asked his advice. He replied: “Do as you
will, sir. I am of the chief’s opinion. The red race
has been cruelly outraged and robbed. But as a white
man I know that the Indian must disappear. If you are
an honest man and go to-day, to-morrow another will
.bn 059.png
.pn +1
come to carry on your work. I warn you, however, that
the chief is in earnest.”
He, too, rose, as if to put an end to further questioning.
I went up to him and said: “Sir, will you let me
go with you? I promise to do or say nothing that will
annoy you. It is only because I feel extraordinary interest
in Intschu-Tschuna, and even more in Winnetou.”
That he himself was included in this interest I dared
not say.
“Yes, come with me a little way,” he replied. “I
have withdrawn from my race, and must know them
no more; but since you have crossed my path, there
can be no harm in our meeting, and some good may
result from it. We will walk a little together. You
seem to me the most intelligent of these men; am I
right?”
“I am the youngest, and not clever, and I should be
honored if you allowed me to go with you,” I answered
respectfully.
“Come, then,” said Kleki-Petrah kindly, and we
walked slowly away from the camp.
.bn 060.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch06
CHAPTER VI.||A WISH AND ITS TRAGIC FULFILMENT.
.sp 2
“You do not speak like a Westerner,” said Kleki-Petrah
as we started.
“No, I am from the East,” I replied. “I came here
to see the world.”
“A bad thing to see sometimes. I am a German. It
must seem strange to you to find a German become a
full-fledged Apache.”
“God’s ways seem marvellous, but they are natural
after all.”
“God’s ways! Why do you say God, instead of destiny,
fate, or fortune?”
“Because I am a Catholic, and recognize that the
hand of God is in the affairs of men.”
“You are right, and are happier than you know;
never lose that conviction. Yes, it is true that God’s
ways often seem marvellous, but are perfectly natural.
The greatest marvels are the fulfilment of His laws,
and the daily actions of nature are the greatest marvels.
A German, a student, a teacher of some renown, and
now an Apache—these seem wonderful changes, but
they came about naturally.”
Though he had taken me with him half unwillingly,
he seemed glad to speak of himself. We had not gone far
.bn 061.png
.pn +1
from camp, and had lain down under a tree, where I could
study his face and expression at leisure. The vicissitudes
of life had engraved deep lines upon his brow;
long furrows of sorrow, the marks of doubt and thought,
the many seams of care and privation. Though his eyes
might once have been piercing, angry, threatening, now
they were as calm and clear as a forest lake.
I should not have dared to question him as to his
evidently strange history, though I longed to know it,
but he asked me all about myself, and my answers were
so full and frank that they gave him evident pleasure.
When he had heard all there was to learn of me
he bowed his head, saying: “You are at the beginning
of the conflict which I am ending, but you need not
fear. You have the good God with you who will never
forsake you. It was otherwise with me. I had lost my
God when I left home, or rather was driven from it, and
instead of the staff of strong faith I took with me the
worst companion a man can have—a bad conscience.”
He looked at me as he said these words, and, seeing
my face unchanged, asked: “Are you not shocked?”
“Nonsense! who could suspect you of a great crime?
I doubt your being a thief or a murderer.”
I laughed as I spoke, but he said gravely: “Thank
you, but you are mistaken. I was a thief, for I stole
much that was priceless. And I was a murderer, the
worst of murderers, for I slew souls. I was a teacher
in an advanced school, it does not matter where.
I was born a Catholic, but lost my faith, and
my greatest pride lay in being free and having
dethroned God, and all my influence and skill went
.bn 062.png
.pn +1
to robbing others of their faith. I had great power
over men, and numberless were the hearers whom
my lectures led into infidelity. Then came the revolution.
He who acknowledges no God recognizes no king
or authority as sacred. I placed myself at the head of
a lawless band of malcontents, who acclaimed me as
their leader, and we rose in mad rebellion against constituted
authority. How many fell in that struggle! I
was a murderer, and the murderer not only of these,
but of others that perished later behind prison walls.
I fled from my fatherland to escape a like fate. I had
no father or mother, no brother or sister; not a soul
wept for me, but many cursed me as the cause of their
sorrow. In fleeing from the police I ran one day
through a little garden and entered a dilapidated house,
where I found an old mother and her daughter in direst
need. They told me their pitiful story with bitter tears.
They had been comfortable, the daughter married but a
year to an honest man who earned enough for a decent
livelihood. He had heard my lectures, and been led
away by them. He persuaded his father-in-law to join
him and take part in the rebellion under my leadership.
The young man fell on what he thought a field of honor,
but the old father was imprisoned. The women told me
this not knowing it was their listener who was responsible
for their wretchedness. God’s mills began to grind.
Freedom was mine still, but peace was gone. I wandered
everywhere, but found no rest. I was often on
the verge of suicide, but a hand held me back—God’s
hand. At last I reached the United States, and came to
the West. In Kansas I met a priest, one of my own
.bn 063.png
.pn +1
countrymen, and he saved me. He dispelled my doubts,
and gave me back faith and contentment. Dear Lord,
I thank Thee for it.”
He was silent awhile, with hands folded and gaze
directed heavenward. Then he resumed: “I fled from
the world and men to do penance, and turned towards
the wilderness. I saw the red man’s wrongs, and my
heart overflowed with wrath and compassion. I resolved
to atone as far as might be for my wrong to
the white man by devotion to the red. I went among
the Apaches, learned their tongue, and became their
teacher. Winnetou is my especial charge; were he the
son of a European lord he would be a renowned prince,
for he is richly endowed by nature. Would that I might
see him a Christian! But though I have taught him all
I could of Catholic truth, it may never be, for he shrinks
from deserting the religion of his ancestors. However
it may end I will remain with him to the day of my
death. He is my spiritual son; I love him more than
myself, and it would be joy to me to receive in my own
heart a shot intended for his, for I would gladly die for
him, feeling that perhaps such a death might wash away
the last stain of my sins.”
His head sank on his breast, and I remained silent,
feeling that anything I could say would be trivial
after such a confession, but I took his hand and pressed
it heartily. He understood, and returned the pressure.
After a time he spoke again. “Why have I told you
this? I have seen you to-day for the first time, and
probably we shall never meet again. Has it been by the
inspiration of God? For I, the former blasphemer,
.bn 064.png
.pn +1
now seek to find His will in all things. There is an
indefinable feeling of melancholy in my heart, which is
not exactly sorrow. It is like the feeling that comes to
one when the autumn leaves are falling. How shall my
tree of life shed its leaves? Gently and after they are
sere, or shall it be cut down before its natural time has
come?” He gazed in silence down the valley, where
I saw Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou returning. They
were mounted now, and leading Kleki-Petrah’s horse.
We rose to go to the camp, which we reached as the
Indians came up. Rattler leaned against the wagon, his
face on fire, for in the short time that had passed he
had drunk as much as he possibly could, and was a
horrible sight. His eyes were like a wild beast’s,
and I made up my mind to watch him, for he was dangerous.
The chief and Winnetou dismounted and came towards
us. “Have my white brothers decided to go or
stay?” asked Intschu-Tschuna.
The head engineer had thought of a compromise, and
said: “We must stay here whether we would or not,
and obey the command laid upon us. But we will send
to Santa Fé and ask for instructions from those that
sent us, and then we will answer.”
This was a cunning thought, for by that time our
work would be done. But the chief said decidedly: “I
will not wait. My white brother must say at once what
he will do.”
Rattler had filled a glass with whisky, and came towards
the two Indians, saying incoherently: “If the Indians
will drink with me we will go, if not we won’t.
.bn 065.png
.pn +1
Let the young one drink first. Here’s fire-water, Winnetou.”
He held out the glass. Winnetou stepped back in
disgust.
“What! You won’t drink with me? That’s an
insult. Here, take the whisky, you red dog; lick it up,
if you won’t drink it.” Before any one could stop him,
he had thrown the contents of the glass in the young
Apache’s face. According to Indian custom such an
insult was to be avenged by death, but Winnetou merely
struck him to the earth, while, like his father’s, his face
betrayed no sign of what he felt, and the drunkard
picked himself up and staggered back to the wagon.
“Once more,” said Intschu-Tschuna, “and this is the
last time, I ask: Will the pale-faces leave our valley to-day?”
“We cannot,” was the reply.
“Then remember there is strife between us.”
I started towards them, but the three strangers turned
back to their horses without noticing me.
From the wagon came Rattler’s voice crying: “Get
out, you red coyotes! but the young one shall pay for
knocking me down.” Quicker than it can be told he
had snatched a gun from the wagon and aimed it at
Winnetou, who was standing alone, without protection,
where the bullet must have found him; nor was there
time to warn him.
Kleki-Petrah cried in anguish: “Down, Winnetou,
down,” at the same time springing before the young
Apache. The shot whistled through the air. Kleki-Petrah
fell to the ground with one hand at his breast,
.bn 066.png
.pn +1
while at the same moment Rattler fell, struck by my
hand. I had sprung at him as soon as I saw his intention,
but too late.
A cry of horror arose from all sides; only the two
Apaches were silent. They knelt by the friend who had
given his life for them, and examined his wound. It
was close to the heart, and the blood flowed from it in
torrents. I, too, knelt by Kleki-Petrah, whose eyes were
closed and whose face was fast growing white and drawn.
“Lay his head on your breast,” I said to Winnetou.
“If he sees you when he opens his eyes, his death will
be happier.”
Without a word Winnetou followed my suggestion,
and his eyes never wandered from the dying man.
At last he opened his eyes, and seeing Winnetou
bending over him a peaceful smile came over his suffering
face, and he whispered: “Winnetou, O my son,
Winnetou!” Then his failing eyes seemed to seek
something, till he saw me, and he said to me in German:
“Stay with him; be true to him; carry on my work.”
He raised his hand imploringly; I took it, and replied:
“I will, I promise you I will.”
An ineffable expression came upon his face, and he
murmured in a faint voice: “My leaves are cut off, not
fading; it is—wiped out. I die—as—I—wished. God,
forgive—forgive. Jesus, mercy—mercy—Mary, pray—mercy—”
He folded his hands, a flood of blood burst
from his wound, his head fell back: he was dead.
Now I knew what had led him to unburden his heart
to me—the inspiration of God, as he had said. He had
wished to die for Winnetou; how quickly had his wish
.bn 067.png
.pn +1
been fulfilled! The last trace of his sin had been
washed away. God is love and infinite compassion; the
contrite He will in no wise cast out.
Winnetou laid the dead man’s head in the grass,
slowly rose, and looked interrogatively at his father.
“There lies the murderer where I have struck him
down; he is yours,” I said.
“Fire-water!” Only this brief reply came from the
chief’s lips in contemptuous tones.
“I will be your friend, your brother; I will go with
you.” The words burst from me involuntarily.
Intschu-Tschuna spat in my face. “Miserable cur!”
he said, “thief of our land, dare to follow us, and I
will crush you!”
I let the insult pass, awed by the presence of the dead
and my promise to him.
The white men stood dumbly waiting to see what the
Apaches would do. They never glanced at us again.
Placing the corpse on the horse which Kleki-Petrah had
ridden, they bound it fast, took the bridle, and, mounting
themselves, rode away.
They spoke no word, and as Sam Hawkins watched
them disappear he said: “That is more dangerous than
the most dreadful threats. We shall see trouble, and
there lies the cause, with no mind or soul; what shall we
do with him?”
I did not wait to hear the answer; I saddled my horse
and rode away. I wished to be alone to escape hearing
this last awful half-hour discussed. It was late in the
evening when, weary and exhausted in body and soul,
I returned to the camp.
.bn 068.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch07
CHAPTER VII.||A COMPACT WITH THE KIOWAS.
.sp 2
It was decided by our party that we were not able,
under the circumstances, to punish Rattler for his crime,
which was most unsatisfactory to my youthful sense of
justice. Sam pointed out, however, that his punishment
was swift and certain at the hands of the Apaches; but
the drawback to this consolation was that we who were
innocent were likely to suffer with the guilty. We knew
that the Indians would return to avenge Kleki-Petrah’s
murder as soon as they could summon their warriors,
and the most important thing for us was to discover
where the main body of the braves were, how far the
chief and his son must ride to come up with them, and
consequently when we could expect their return. Bancroft
was most anxious to finish our work before we left,
provided there was time before the anticipated attack,
and calculated that it would require five days to complete
our task. So Sam Hawkins volunteered to ride on
the trail of the chiefs who had visited us, to discover, if
possible, all that we needed to know, and took me with
him, partly for protection, because I had earned such a
reputation for being able to strike a hard blow with
what Sam called my “lily lady-fingers,” partly that I
might have experience in the art of following a trail,
.bn 069.png
.pn +1
and partly, I hope, because he liked to have me with
him.
I had not been able to eat or sleep the night after the
murder, for I could not cease going over the dreadful
scene. I saw myself seated by Kleki-Petrah, heard his
story, which had become to me a dying confession, and
thought again and again of his last words, expressing a
presentiment of his coming death. Yes, the tree of his
life had not fallen naturally, but had been violently cut
down, and by what an assassin, for what a reason, and
in what a manner! If there was any consolation to be
found in the bloody work of that day, it was that Kleki-Petrah
had died on Winnetou’s heart, and he had received
the shot intended for his beloved pupil.
But what of his request that I should cling to Winnetou
and fulfil the work that he had begun? Only a
few moments before he had said that we should probably
never meet again, and indeed my path in life lay
far enough from the Apaches, and yet he had left me
a problem the solution of which would bring me into
the most intimate relations with that tribe. Was this
request but chance words? Or was the dying man in
the last moment of his life, as his soul fluttered on the
border of the next world, given a glimpse of the future?
It seems so, for events enabled me to fulfil his wish,
though then it appeared extremely unlikely that I should
ever be brought into friendly contact with Winnetou.
But why above all had I so quickly given my pledge
to the dying man? Through pity? Yes, undoubtedly;
but there was another reason. Winnetou had made an
impression upon me such as I had never received from
.bn 070.png
.pn +1
any other man. He was exactly my age, yet of far
greater parts, and this I felt from the first glance at
him. The proud earnestness of his clear, velvety eyes,
the quiet certainty of his bearing, and the profound
sorrow on his fine young face had revealed it to me.
How admirable had been his conduct and that of his
father! And what a lesson for many a white man lay
in Intschu-Tschuna’s one word of explanation of Rattler’s
crime: “Fire-water!” These thoughts, and the
dread of meeting as enemies, returned to slay me and my
comrades, these two whom I not only liked, but whom
I had promised to befriend, kept all sleep from my eyelids,
and it was with a heavy heart that I set out with
Sam on the following morning to ride on their trail.
We started early, before the sun had risen. It was my
very first scouting expedition, and, though I have since
taken many such rides, I can never forget this first
one. The trail was easily followed, a fact which made
Sam doubt its being trustworthy; for he said that when
an Indian left his course so easily traced by an enemy
the chance was it was done only to lead that enemy
into a trap. But I felt sure that in this case it was only
because the chief and Winnetou were too heavily encumbered
by the corpse of Kleki-Petrah, and in too great
haste to avenge his murder, to obliterate the trace of
their course, and rode on with no fear of an ambush.
It was an hour before mid-day when we came to a
thicket of young oaks where the Indians had evidently
halted to cut saplings for a litter or drag for the body
of Kleki-Petrah, for we saw the leaves and twigs which
they had stripped from the young trees in its construction
.bn 071.png
.pn +1
lying on the ground. Here Sam reined up, saying:
“Now we’ve gone far enough; we’ll rest awhile. Winnetou
rode all night to this point; do you see that the
trail goes on from here in single file? That means that
they rode this way to cover the fact that one has gone on
alone, for greater speed, leaving the other to follow with
the body. The one in advance is probably the chief,
and Winnetou has taken charge of his murdered teacher.
This will enable Intschu-Tschuna to summon his braves
quickly, and we may expect their return very soon, perhaps
before the five days are up which you need for your
work.”
We let our horses, or rather my horse and Nancy,
drink at a stream which flowed between the saplings,
and we lay down to rest for half an hour before we
turned to go back. We lay silent, I thinking of the
approaching struggle with the Apaches, while I saw by
the regular heaving of his breast that Sam slept. If I
needed a proof of the intelligence of animals, and the
keenness attained by the senses of both man and beast
in a life in the wilds, I was to receive it now. The mule
was tethered in the bushes, where she could see nothing,
nibbling the leaves and grass; she was not a sociable
beast and preferred to be alone, while my horse grazed
close to my elbow. Suddenly Nancy uttered a short,
sharp, I might almost say warning, note, and in an instant
Sam was awake and on his feet.
“I was asleep, but Nancy woke me. Some man or
beast is coming. Where is my mule?” he cried.
“Here in the bushes; this way.”
We crawled through the undergrowth, and saw only
.bn 072.png
.pn +1
Nancy looking out through the branches. Her long
ears waved excitedly, and her tail swung from side to
side; but when she saw us coming she quieted down;
ears and tail were still.
We peered out, and saw six Indians coming on the
trail single file. The first one, a short but muscular
man, kept his head down, apparently never raising his
eyes from the trail. They all wore leather leggings and
dark woollen shirts, and were armed with muskets,
knives, and tomahawks. Their faces shone with grease,
and across each one ran a red and a blue stripe.
“What a lucky meeting! They are Kiowas, and
they’ll save us,” said Sam. “The one ahead is Bao,
which means Fox, a daring and crafty warrior, as his
name indicates. The chief of the band is called Tangua,
a bold Indian, and a good friend of mine. They have
their war-paint on, and apparently they also are reconnoitering.”
The six warriors drew near while I was wondering
how they could save us. Six Indians would not be
much help, but it was a comfort to find that Sam knew
them, and that at least we had nothing to fear from
them. Sam stepped forth from the bushes, put his
hands to his mouth, and uttered a peculiar sharp cry
which they seemed to recognize, for they reined in their
horses and shouted back. Again Sam called to them
and signalled, and they understood both cry and signal,
for, returning them, they galloped toward us.
“Is our white brother Sam here?” asked the leader
as he came up. “How comes he in the path of his red
friend and brother?”
.bn 073.png
.pn +1
“Bao, the crafty fox, has met me because he came
upon my tracks,” answered Sam.
“We thought they were the tracks of the red dogs
we seek,” said the Fox in broken but perfectly comprehensible
English.
“What does my brother mean?”
“The Apaches of the tribe of Mascaleros.”
“Why do you call them dogs? is there enmity between
them and the brave Kiowas?”
“There is war between us and these scurvy coyotes.”
“I am glad to hear it. My brothers may sit
down with us, for I have something important to tell
them.”
The Fox looked at me searchingly, and said: “I have
never seen this young pale-face; is he one of the warriors
of the white men? Has he won a name?”
If Sam had told him my own name it would have
made no impression, so he fell back on the name
Wheeler had given me. “This is my dearest friend and
brother, and though he is young he is a great warrior
among his own people in the rising sun. Never in his
life had he seen a buffalo, yet two days ago he fought
with two bulls to save my life, and killed them, and
yesterday he stabbed a grizzly bear of the Rockies with
his knife, and received no scratch himself.”
“Ugh! ugh!” grunted the Indians, regarding me
approvingly.
“His bullet never misses its mark, and in his hand
dwells such strength that at a blow from him his enemy
falls to the ground. Therefore the white men of the
West call him Old Shatterhand.”
.bn 074.png
.pn +1
Thus without any choice of mine I was given the
name which has ever since clung to me.
The Fox offered me his hand, and said in friendly
tones: “If Old Shatterhand will, we will be friends and
brothers. We love men who can knock down an enemy
with a blow, and he shall be welcome among us.”
Which really meant: “We need allies with such
strength, so come to us.”
However, I replied: “I love the red men, for they are
the sons of the Great Spirit, whose children we also are.
We are brothers, and will unite against all enemies who
do not respect us.”
A smirk of satisfaction passed over his greased and
painted face as he replied: “Old Shatterhand has
spoken well; we will smoke the pipe of peace with him.”
So saying he seated himself, and brought out a pipe
which he filled with a mixture apparently of red turnip,
hemp, chopped acorns, and sour sorrel, lighted it, rose,
took a whiff, puffed it towards heaven and earth, and
said: “Above dwells the Great Spirit, and here on
earth exist the plants and beasts which he made for the
Kiowa warriors.” Then he took another whiff, and
blew it towards the north, east, south, and west, saying:
“In all directions dwell the red and white men
who wrongfully take these beasts and plants for themselves;
but we shall find them, and take what is ours.
I have spoken. How!”
What a speech! This Kiowa openly declared his
tribe the owner of everything, and hence robbery was
not only his right but his duty. And I must treat this
sort of people as friends!
.bn 075.png
.pn +1
The Fox handed the pipe to Sam, who took half a
dozen puffs and said: “The Great Spirit judges not the
appearance of men, nor can they deceive Him by painting
their faces, for He sees the heart. The hearts of the
warriors of the glorious tribe of the Kiowas are brave
and wise. Mine is bound to them as my mule is tied to
the tree, and will be so forever. I have spoken. How!”
That was just like Sam, the artful, jolly little man,
who always knew how to win his hearers, and yet have
his joke.
And now it was my turn to take the foul pipe and
become eloquent. I also rose, took a whiff, and—yes,
the turnip, hemp, acorns, sour sorrel were all there
in the pipe-bowl, but there seemed to be a fifth ingredient
in the mixture, for it tasted as if it had bits of
felt shoes in it. I puffed the smoke towards the earth and
the sky and said: “The sunshine and air come from
Heaven, whence come all good gifts. The earth receives
the warmth and moisture, and gives them to the buffalo
and mustang and bear and deer, to the pumpkin
and corn and all good plants from which the red man
makes his kinnikinnic, that in the pipe of peace breathes
brotherly love.”
I had read that Indians call their tobacco “kinnikinnic,”
and the knowledge opportunely came back to me
now. A second time I filled my mouth with smoke and
blew it toward heaven, and continued: “In the west
rise the Rocky Mountains, and to the east stretch the
plains; on the north roll the seas, and the south is
washed by the waters of the great ocean. Were all the
land between these points mine I would share it with
.bn 076.png
.pn +1
the warriors of the Kiowas, for they are my brothers.
This year may they kill ten times as many buffaloes and
fifty times as many grizzly bears as they number. May
their corn grow as large as pumpkins, and their pumpkins
so great that twenty could be made from one. I
have spoken. How!”
These wishes were not very practical, but they seemed
to please the Indians as much as if they were already
fulfilled. The Fox seized my hand, assured me of his
friendship for all time, then took the pipe between his
teeth, and smoked in supreme content.
Having brought the Indians into a state of high
good humor, Sam said: “My brothers say that the war-hatchet
has been dug up between them and the
Apaches of the Mascaleros. How long has this been so?
and what has ended the peace between them?”
“Since the time two weeks ago, when the Apache
dogs killed four of our warriors.”
“Where?”
“At Rio Pecos.”
“That is not your camp, but that of the Mascaleros;
what were your warriors doing there?”
The Kiowa did not hesitate to reply candidly: “A
band of our braves went at night to capture some of
the Apaches’ horses. The vile dogs watch well; they
killed our brave men. Therefore we have taken up the
war-hatchet.”
So the Kiowas had intended to steal, yet would make
the Apaches atone for their defence of their own property.
I would have expressed my mind on this conduct,
but Sam signalled to me so energetically to be
.bn 077.png
.pn +1
quiet that I obeyed him, and he said: “My brother the
Fox is out to spy; when will his braves follow?”
“They are one day behind us.”
“Who leads them?”
“Tangua, the chief himself, at the head of two hundred
braves.”
“And you expect to overcome the Apaches?”
“We will come upon them as the eagle swoops on
the heron that has not seen him.”
“My brother is mistaken. The Apaches know that
they are to be attacked by the Kiowas.”
The Fox shook his head incredulously, and replied:
“How could they know it? Do their ears reach to the
tent of the Kiowas?”
“Yes.”
“I do not understand my brother Sam; he must tell
me what he means.”
“The Apaches have ears which can walk and ride;
yesterday we saw two such ears that had been listening
at the camp of the Kiowas.”
“Uff! Two ears. Two scouts?”
“Yes. My brothers have not considered everything.
Intschu-Tschuna, the chief of the Apaches, is a very
wise warrior. When he saw that his people had killed
four Kiowas he said to himself that the Kiowas would
be avenged, and set out to spy upon you.”
“Uff! uff! He himself?”
“Yes, and his son Winnetou.”
“Uff! He too? Had we known that, we would
have captured the two dogs. I must hasten back to tell
this to the chief, that he may call out more braves. We
.bn 078.png
.pn +1
are enough for a surprise, but not if we are expected.
Will Sam and Old Shatterhand ride with me?”
“Yes; not to Tangua, the chief of the Kiowas, but
to our camp.”
“That I cannot do.”
“Hear what I say. Would you take Intschu-Tschuna,
the chief of the Apaches, a prisoner alive?”
“Uff!” cried the Kiowa as if electrified, and his
voice was ear-splitting. Then he said: “If my brother
has a jest on his tongue I will not bear it.”
“Nonsense! I am in earnest. In five or six days
at most, and I can’t tell how much sooner, you can capture
the chief and his son Winnetou alive.”
“Where?”
“In our camp; and you’ll see how if you listen to
what I tell you.”
Sam then told the Indian of our road, to which they
had no objection, and of our meeting with the Apaches.
As he ended he said: “I wondered to see the two chiefs
alone, and decided they were buffalo-hunting and had
parted from their followers for a little time, but now I
see it all. They were out reconnoitring, and the fact that
the two heads of the tribe made this ride themselves
shows they considered it an important matter. Now
they will thirst for a double vengeance: on you, and on
us for Kleki-Petrah’s murder. They will send a smaller
band against us than against you, and the chief and his
son will be with the former. After we have shown you
our camp, that you may find it again, you will go back
to your chief, tell him all I have said, and he will come
with his two hundred braves to wait for Intschu-Tschuna
.bn 079.png
.pn +1
with his little band. We are twenty strong,
and of course will help you, and it will be child’s play
to capture the Apaches. It is like having the whole
tribe to have the chiefs, for you can demand of them
what you will. Does my brother see it all?”
“Yes; my white brother’s plan is very good, and we
will start at once to reach his camp before dark.”
We mounted and galloped towards the camp, cutting
across by a shorter route, since it was no longer necessary
to follow the trail. I was shocked at Sam Hawkins
and very angry with him. Winnetou, the noble Winnetou,
and his father were to be betrayed into a trap, which
if successful would destroy them! How could Hawkins
have formed such a scheme? I tried in vain to get him
apart from the Kiowas to ask an explanation; but he
seemed to suspect my intention, and stuck close to the
Fox, which made me angrier than ever.
When we got into camp I sprang from my horse,
and lay down on the grass in no very happy frame of
mind. Disregarding all my signals to him, Sam had
taken the Indians to our men, who were in a high state of
delight when they learned they had come in friendship
and there was no longer any reason for our fearing the
Apaches.
After the Kiowas had been hospitably received and
entertained, Sam came to me for the first time. “You
have a long face to-night,” he said. “Is it real indigestion
or mental colic? I suspect it’s the latter; open
your heart to me and I’ll cure you.”
“I’d be glad if you could, Sam, but I doubt it.”
“Yes, I can; only try me.”
.bn 080.png
.pn +1
“Tell me, then, how Winnetou struck you?”
“As a fine fellow, just as he did you.”
“Yet you will betray him to his death; how does that
hang together?”
“To his death! I? That’s impossible for my father’s
son.”
“But you’ll make him a prisoner of these villains,
and that means death.”
“Don’t believe that fairy tale. On the contrary,
I’d do a good deal to save Winnetou if he were in danger.”
“Then why do you set this trap? And listen, Sam.
If he is captured, I’ll free him; and if a weapon is
turned on him, I’ll stand by his side and fight for him.
I warn you of this frankly. I promised a dying man to
be his friend, and that is as binding to me as an oath.”
“I like that, I like that,” Sam announced. “We
agree there.”
“Oh, yes,” I exclaimed impatiently, “you say so, but
how do your good words agree with your actions?”
“So that is what you want to know, hey? Old Sam
Hawkins suspected you wanted to speak to him, but he
dared not let you. He’s a different fellow than he
seems, only he’s not going to show his cards to any one
but you and Dick Stone and Will Parker, who are to
help in his plot. We were lucky to have met the Kiowas
and learned all we know now, and I really don’t see any
other way of saving ourselves from the Apaches. However
much you may admire Winnetou, you’d have to
love him in eternity, for, being ignorant of your devotion
to him, he’d send you there in short order. Now
.bn 081.png
.pn +1
the Kiowas will come here with their two hundred
braves—”
“I’ll warn Winnetou,” I interrupted.
“Heaven forbid!” cried Sam. “That would only
ruin us, for the Apaches would put an end to us and the
Kiowas together. No, they must actually be face to
face with death; and if then we secretly free them, as we
will, they’ll be grateful, and forego all revenge on us.
At most they’ll only demand Rattler of us, and I would
not object to that. What do you say now, my angry
gentleman?”
I gave him my hand, and replied: “I am perfectly
satisfied, my dear Sam; you’ve thought it all out well.”
“Haven’t I? Hawkins has his good side, after all.
Are we friends again?”
“Yes, old Sam, and I’m sorry I was so suspicious.”
“Then put your head down and sleep, for to-morrow
there’s a good deal to do. I’ll go now and look up Stone
and Parker, to let them know where we stand. Good
night, and trust me better next time.”
Wasn’t he a kind, trusty fellow, this queer old Sam
Hawkins?
.bn 082.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch08
CHAPTER VIII.||SAM HAWKINS GOES SPYING.
.sp 2
When Sam left me I tried to sleep, but it was long
before I succeeded. The camp was noisy over the coming
of the Kiowas and our rescue thereby, and besides
my own thoughts were not soothing. Hawkins had
spoken of his plans confidently, as though they could
not miscarry; but after I was left alone I was not so
sure of them. We were to free Winnetou and his father,
but nothing had been said of the other Apaches. Would
they remain in the hands of the Kiowas when their
chiefs were rescued? We four men could scarcely liberate
all the Apaches, especially as it was to be
done so secretly that no suspicion could fall on us.
And how were the Apaches to come into the hands of
the Kiowas? Hardly without a struggle, and it was
easy to foresee that these very two whom we wished to
deliver would defend themselves most bravely, and
hence be in the greatest danger of death. How could
we prevent this? I thought long over these problems,
twisting myself into every imaginable position, but
could find no way out of the difficulty. The only
thought which comforted me in a measure was that
clever, trusty little Sam would find a way out; and as
to myself, I determined to stand by the chiefs, and if
.bn 083.png
.pn +1
necessary defend them with my life. So at last I went
to sleep.
The next morning I went at my work with redoubled
energy to make up for the previous day’s absence. Each
man did his best, so we went forward far more rapidly
than usual, and by night had doubled the amount of
work done the day before, of course moving the camp
onward as we worked. We were equally industrious on
the next day till noon, when an interruption came in
the shape of the Kiowas.
These Indians arrived just as the sun was highest;
they were of strong fighting build, all armed with guns,
tomahawks, and knives. Their leader was of truly imposing
size, with a sharp, sinister face, and a pair of
knavish eyes that spoke no good of their owner. When
I saw his face I thought it would go hard with Intschu-Tschuna
and Winnetou if they fell into his hands. He
was called Tangua, a word meaning Chief. Though he
was there as our friend and ally, he treated us in a manner
far from friendly, but came like a tiger that had
joined a leopard after prey and would rend his ally the
next moment.
As the chief came up he did not dismount to greet us,
but made a comprehensive salute with his hand, including
us all, and rode straight to our wagon and
lifted the cover to look in. Its contents seemed to
please him, for he dismounted and got into the wagon
to examine them.
“Oho!” cried Sam Hawkins, standing beside me,
“he appears to want to make up his mind as to our
property before he says a word. If he thinks Sam Hawkins
.bn 084.png
.pn +1
is stupid enough to stand like a hitching-post, he
makes a mistake, as I’ll show him pretty quick.”
“No rashness, Sam,” I begged. “These two hundred
fellows are too much for us.”
“In numbers, yes; in wit, no,” he answered. “It
looks as though we had taken pretty poor accomplices,
but come over to the wagon and hearken how Sam
Hawkins talks to such rascals. I’m well acquainted
with this Tangua, and if he doesn’t know I’m here he’ll
have to find it out. Come on.”
We had our guns in our hands, and proceeded to
the wagon where Tangua was rummaging. Sam asked
in a warning tone: “Does the glorious chief of the
Kiowas wish to go instantly to the Happy Hunting
Grounds?”
The Indian, whose back was toward us, stooping over,
straightened himself, turned to us, and answered
gruffly: “Why does the pale-face interrupt me with this
silly question? Tangua will rule as a great chief in the
Happy Hunting Grounds in the end, but a long time
must pass before he journeys there.”
“That time may come in one minute.”
“Why?”
“Get out of the wagon and I’ll tell you; only be
quick about it.”
“I will stay here.”
“Good; then go up in a burst,” said Sam, turning as
if to go away.
The chief sprang from the wagon, seized Sam’s arm,
and cried: “Go up in a burst! Why does Sam Hawkins
speak such words?”
.bn 085.png
.pn +1
“To warn you of death, which would have grabbed
you in a moment if you stayed there.”
“Uff! Is death in that wagon? Show him to me!”
“Later, maybe. Have not your spies told you why we
are here?”
“I learned from them that you wish to make a road
for the fire-horse of the pale-faces.”
“That’s it, and such a road goes over rivers, under
ground, and through rocks; you know that, and you
may have heard of the stuff with which we blow up
the mighty rocks which are in the way of our fire-horse’s
feet. Is it that powder with which we load our
guns?”
“No; the pale-faces have made another discovery by
which they can overthrow whole mountains.”
“Right; and this discovery we carry in that wagon,
done up in packages, and if you touch it carelessly it
will explode in your hands and blow you into a thousand
pieces.”
“Uff! uff!” he grunted, evidently shocked. “Was
I near one of these packages?”
“So near that if you had not sprung down you would
be this moment in the Happy Hunting Grounds. And
what would you have had with you? No medicine, no
scalp-lock, nothing, nothing at all, but little bits of
flesh and bones. How could you rule as a great chief in
the Happy Hunting Grounds in such a state? You
would have been crushed under foot by the spirit-horses.
An Indian who comes to the Happy Hunting Grounds
without medicine or scalp-locks will be received by the
dead heroes with contempt, and have to hide from their
.bn 086.png
.pn +1
eyes, while they drink deep of all Indian joys; this is the
belief of the red man. What a misfortune, then, to
arrive shattered into little bits!”
One could see under the dark skin that the shock had
driven the blood from the chief’s face, and he cried:
“Ugh! how good that you warned me in time!”
“Because we are friends and brothers,” said Sam.
“I will go and warn my braves, lest they go near that
dangerous wagon and suffer death,” said Tangua.
“Do so, I pray you; for not only they, but you and I
and all here would be blown up with them. If one
who does not understand how to use this discovery were
to touch it he would blow up his friends as well as his
enemies, while in our hands it is sure to blow up those
whom we choose to dispose of. Let us warn your braves,
and at the same time remind them that they have not
yet greeted their white brothers.”
With this happy hint of the possible consequences of
offending us, and reminder of his omission, coupled with
a sly wink at me, Sam accompanied the chief to his
braves.
The Kiowas and our three scouts held a conference to
discuss the best means for carrying out the capture
of the Apaches, while we surveyors continued working
until darkness forced us to discontinue.
We seated ourselves all together around the fire after
supper, and the camp presented to me, unused to such a
scene, a picture of the greatest interest. Sam Hawkins
and his two inseparable companions sat near me; around
the blazing fire were the redskins, their greased faces
shining in its light, while just beyond the horses were
.bn 087.png
.pn +1
grazing, and dimly seen in the distance were the sentinels
which the chief had stationed there. As I looked
from one copper-colored face to another I saw none
which I would have trusted to show compassion to an
enemy.
I asked Sam the result of the conference. “You
may be satisfied,” he said. “Nothing will happen to
your two darlings.”
“But if they should try to defend themselves?”
“It will never come to that; they will be overcome
before they have a chance to know what has happened.
We know which way they are coming; do you?”
“They’ll go to the spot where they found us the
other day, and follow on our trail.”
“Right; you’re not so stupid as you look. Then we’re
certain of the first thing we must know, and that is the
direction from which we’re to expect them. The next
thing is to find out the time.”
“That can’t be known exactly, but I suppose you can
guess it pretty closely.”
“Yes, if a man has any brains he can guess well
enough, but guessing won’t do for us. Any one who
acts on guesswork in such circumstances as these takes
his skin to market. Certainty, absolute certainty is
what we must have.”
“We can only get that by sending out spies, and you
put your veto on that; you said the track of spies would
betray us.”
“Indian spies; mark that—Indian spies. The
Apaches know we are here, and if they came upon the
footprint of a white man it would not make them suspicious.
.bn 088.png
.pn +1
But if they found the footprint of an Indian it
would be very different; they would be warned. And
since you are so wise, can you guess what they would
suspect?”
“That the Kiowas were here.”
“Yes, you have actually guessed it. If I did not need
my old wig myself I’d crown you with it; consider it
done.”
“Thanks, Sam; I’ll try to deserve the honor. But
now look here: you mean that we should send white
spies after the Apaches; is that it?”
“Not spies; only one.”
“Is that enough?”
“Yes, if that one’s a fellow to be trusted, called Sam
Hawkins. Do you know the man?”
“I know if he undertakes a thing we need feel
no more anxiety. He won’t let the Apaches catch
him.”
“No, not catch him, but see him. I mean to let
them see me wandering around, so they’ll think we feel
as safe as in Abraham’s bosom. They won’t touch me,
because if I didn’t come back your suspicions would be
aroused.”
“Suppose they see you and you don’t see them?” I
hinted.
“I seen and not see!” he exclaimed in pretended
wrath. “If you give me such a box on the ear as that
it’s all over between us. Sam Hawkins’s eyes may be
little, but they’re sharp. As soon as I have seen them
I’ll slip back to you, that you may be warned when their
spies are coming, and act perfectly at ease.”
.bn 089.png
.pn +1
“But they’ll see the Kiowas if they send spies here,”
I objected.
“Who will they see? Kiowas? Man, tenderfoot,
most respected youngster, do you think Sam Hawkins’s
brains are made of cotton-wool or tissue-paper? Our
dear friends the Kiowas will be safely hidden, so
there won’t be the smallest trace of them; see? Then
when the Apache scouts have gone back to the braves,
I’ll crawl after them and see when the whole body
moves. They’ll come by night, and we’ll burn our
camp-fire so we can be plainly seen. As long as it lasts
the Apaches will certainly stay hidden. We will let it
burn out, and as soon as it is dark steal over to the
Kiowas. Then the Apaches will come—and find no
one! Of course they’ll be astonished, and light up the
fire again to look for us, when we shall see them as
plainly as we were seen before, and we’ll reverse the
game and fall on them. Isn’t that a stroke? It will be
talked of long, and every one will say: ‘Sam Hawkins
planned that little business.’”
“Yes, it’s very fine, if everything goes as you expect.
And after that shall we free the Apaches?”
“Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou at least, and any
others we can.”
“And what will happen to the rest?”
“Nothing bad, I’m sure. The Kiowas will be too
busy at first looking for the chiefs. But it’s time
enough to plan the next step when we’ve got through
this one. What comes later we’ll take care of later.
The next thing to do is to select a good spot for carrying
out our scheme, and that I’ll attend to the first
.bn 090.png
.pn +1
thing in the morning. We’ve talked enough to-day; to-morrow
we must act.”
He was right; there was nothing else to do now but
await events.
The night was not very comfortable; a high wind
arose, increasing to a gale, and towards morning it grew
unusually cold for that region. We were awakened
chilled to our marrows. Sam scanned the sky, and then
said: “Apparently we are going to have rain to-day, and
that happens rarely about here, but is the very best
thing for our plan.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Don’t you know why?” replied Sam. “Look
around here and see how the grass is flattened down.
The one thing I was afraid of was that when the
Apaches came it would show them that there was a
greater number of men and horses here than they saw.
But if it rains it will wash away all trace of this, and the
grass will spring up again as fresh as ever. I must set
out to look for the place where we will let the Apaches
overtake us, and the Kiowas must go with me before the
rain comes, so it can wash away their tracks. In the
meantime you can work in peace.”
He went over to lay his plan before the Kiowas, and
in a short time all the Indians rode away with Sam and
his two companions. We followed them slowly step by
step as our work advanced, and towards noon Sam’s
prophecy was fulfilled; it rained, and in such torrents as
can only fall in those latitudes. It seemed as though an
ocean were falling from the skies.
In the midst of this torrent Sam came back with
.bn 091.png
.pn +1
Dick and Will. We did not see him until he was within
twelve or fifteen feet of us, so thick was the veil of rain
before us. They had found a suitable place; Stone and
Parker were to remain and show it to us. But in spite
of the weather Hawkins went back, as soon as he had
laid in provisions, to resume his office of spy. As he disappeared
in the thick rain I felt that misfortune was
close upon us, and a sense of loneliness and dread came
over me like a pall.
.bn 092.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch09
CHAPTER IX.||WAITING THE ONSLAUGHT.
.sp 2
The rain ceased as suddenly as it began, and the sun
shone down on us as warm as on the day before. We
worked rapidly till nightfall, and a few hours’ labor in
the morning brought us to a stream swollen by the late
rain, flowing beside a small open savanna, which was
bordered on one hand by trees and shrubs. A wooded
peninsula ran out into the water, and beside the stream
rose a gentle elevation crowned by thick woods.
“This is the place Sam picked out,” said Stone, looking
at it with an air of recognition. “There couldn’t
be a better place for our purpose. The Kiowas are so
hidden you might try hard and not find the least trace
of them, yet I know they see us perfectly. The savanna
is covered with a growth that makes it easy for the
Apache spies to conceal themselves and follow us
unseen. Then look at the open plain of grass leading
here. A camp-fire burning on it will light all the
savanna, and hide the Apaches, so they can easily come
upon us.”
His lean, weather-beaten face gleamed with satisfaction,
but the head engineer did not share the feeling.
He shook his head, saying: “What is the matter with
you? Do you mean to say you rejoice that we can be so
.bn 093.png
.pn +1
easily overcome? I tell you it’s far from pleasant to
me; I am paralyzed at the mere thought.”
“The surer to fall into the hands of the Apaches,”
cried Stone. “Don’t let such feelings get hold of you,
Mr. Bancroft. Of course I’m glad, for the easier the
Apaches can overtake us, the easier we can capture
them. Just look here. Over there on the heights are
the Kiowas in the midst of the woods. Their spies sit
in the highest trees, and have surely seen us coming,
and in the same way they’ll see the Apaches, for they
can look all across the savanna.”
“Well, what earthly good will it do us, if we’re overtaken,
to have the Kiowas look across the savanna?”
“Don’t you see? They stay there only because here
the Apaches would see them. As soon as their scouts
have come and gone the Kiowas will come over to
us, hide on the peninsula, and we’ll put our horses at its
neck, for then the Apaches will keep off it, as the horses
would neigh if they went near them, and give us warning.
The Apaches will hide, and wait till we’re
asleep—”
“Suppose they shouldn’t wait?” I interrupted.
“That wouldn’t be dangerous for us,” he replied.
“The Kiowas would come to our assistance at once.”
“But then there’d be bloodshed, which we want to
avoid.”
“Yes, but here in the West a drop of blood doesn’t
count. Don’t worry; the Apaches are sure to wait,
for they know that if awake we’d defend ourselves, and
though we’d get the worst of it, still some of them would
be sure to get killed, and they value their blood as
.bn 094.png
.pn +1
highly as we do ours. Therefore they’ll wait till we lie
down to sleep; then we’ll let the fire go out, and go over
to the island.”
Now that we were on the scene of action, and the
hour was so near, I was greatly perturbed in mind. I
was not afraid, but I was anxious, apprehensive of the
result, and worried as to the fate of Winnetou, of whom
I had thought so much during the past few days that he
had grown near and dear to me, although he was still my
enemy; and it must have been a kind of mental telepathy,
for I learned later that he had been thinking continuously
of me. Since the encounter could not be avoided,
I wished it might come soon and be over with; and this
wish was to be fulfilled.
It was a little short of mid-day when we saw Sam
Hawkins returning. The little man was weary, but his
eyes gleamed with unusual fire.
“All’s well?” I asked. “But I see it is, dear old
Sam.”
“Do you?” he laughed. “Where is it written, on
my nose or in your imagination?”
“No one who sees your eyes can doubt it.”
“So my eyes betray me; that’s good to know for
another time. But you’re right; everything is really
better than I could have hoped.”
“Have you seen the spies?”
“Seen the spies! I’ve not only seen ’em, but I’ve seen
the whole band; and not only seen ’em, but heard and
watched ’em.”
“Watched them! Then tell us, quick, what you’ve
discovered.”
.bn 095.png
.pn +1
“Gather up your instruments, and go into camp
while I go over to the Kiowas to tell them what their
part is to be. I’ll be back pretty soon.”
He sprang across the stream, and disappeared into
the woods, while we packed up our instruments, and
went back to camp to await his coming. We neither saw
nor heard him till he stood among us, saying: “Here I
am, my lords; haven’t you eyes and ears? Now that
shows you how you can get close to men without their
knowing it; and that’s the way I did yesterday with the
Apaches.”
“Tell us; tell us.”
“You shall hear; but I must sit down, for I’m pretty
tired. My bones are used to riding, and don’t enjoy
walking any more; besides, it’s grander to belong to the
cavalry than to the infantry.”
He sat down near me, and then said, nodding his
head positively: “We’ll have the ball to-night.”
“To-night!” I echoed, half shocked, half glad.
“That’s good.”
“H’m! you seem to be in a hurry to fall into the
hands of the Apaches. However, you’re right; it is
good, and I’m glad, too, that we won’t have to wait any
longer. It’s no fun waiting when you don’t know how
a thing will turn out.”
“Don’t know! Is there any reason for anxiety?”
“Not a bit; on the contrary, I’m certain everything
will go well. But any man of experience knows that the
best child may grow up bad, the finest plans take a
wrong turn from some unforeseen cause.”
“Well, do tell us what you heard. Hurry up.”
.bn 096.png
.pn +1
“Softly, softly, my young sir; everything in order. I
can’t tell you what I heard, because you must first know
how I heard it. When I went out in the rain from here
I went back to where we were camping when the two
Apaches came to us, and had to hide at once, for there
were three redskins sniffing around. Apache spies, says
I to myself; and so they were. They surveyed the premises
without coming on my trail, and sat down under the
trees where it was dry to wait for their chiefs, and I
had to wait, too, two long hours. At last came a mounted
band, led by Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou.”
“How many were there?”
“Just as I expected, about fifty men. The spies went
out to meet them, and after a few words with their
chiefs went on ahead, the braves following slowly. You
may imagine, gentlemen, that Sam Hawkins followed
after them. The rain had washed out ordinary tracks,
but the broad trail of your camp was plain; I wish I
might always have a trail as easy to follow. But the
Indians wanted to be very sure, for they peered into
every nook and corner and behind every bush, and made
such slow progress that darkness came on after we had
gone only about two miles, and they dismounted and
made their camp.”
“And did you creep up to them there?”
“Yes; like wise fellows they made no fire, but Sam
Hawkins, being equally wise, thought that served him as
well as them. So I crawled under the trees, and wriggled
forward on my stomach till I got near enough to
hear what they were saying. Their words were brief
.bn 097.png
.pn +1
but to the point. It is as we expected: they want to capture
us alive.”
“And not kill us?”
“Not all at once. They want to take us to the Mascaleros
village at Rio Pecos, where we are to be tortured
and die a living death, like carp taken out of the water
and put into a pond to fatten. I wonder what kind of
flesh old Sam’s would make, especially if they put me
into the pan in my leather hunting-jacket.”
He laughed in his silent, inward fashion, and added:
“They’ve got their eye on Mr. Rattler there, sitting as
still as if heaven, with all the saints, were waiting for
him. Yes, Rattler, they’ve got a banquet ready for you
that I wouldn’t care to sit down to. You’re to be spitted,
impaled, poisoned, smothered, shot, broken on a
wheel, and hanged, each done a little more beautifully
than the other, and only a taste of each that you may
be kept alive a long time and have the full benefit of all
the torture and anguish of death. And if after all you
shouldn’t be quite dead, you’re to be laid in the grave
of Kleki-Petrah, whom you murdered, and buried
alive.”
“Merciful Heaven! did they say that?” gasped Rattler,
his face blanched with terror.
“That’s what they said, and you deserve it. I only
hope if you do escape you’ll be half decent in the future;
and I guess you will be, for the body of Kleki-Petrah
will be a strong medicine for you.”
“Where is the main band of the Apaches which is
out against the Kiowas?” I asked.
.bn 098.png
.pn +1
“I don’t know; nothing was said of that. It doesn’t
matter to us.”
Little Sam was mistaken in that; it was far from
unimportant to us where this band was, as we discovered
in a few days.
Sam continued: “As I had heard enough, I should
have come back to you at once; but it was dark, and I
couldn’t see the trail till dawn, so I waited. I stayed all
night hidden in the wood, and my legs were almost
broken. I was six miles from here, and I had to go out
of my way to get back unseen. And that is all I have
to tell you.”
“But you said you were going to show yourself to
them.”
“I know, and I should have done so, only—hark! did
you hear anything?”
The scream of an eagle, thrice repeated, came from
the woods.
“That’s the Kiowa spies,” he said. “They are over
there in the trees. I told them to give me this sign when
they saw the Apaches on the savanna. Come, sir; we’ll
try what sort of eyes you have.”
This invitation was addressed to me. Sam rose to
go, and I took my gun to follow him.
“Hold on,” he said. “Leave that gun here. It’s true
the frontiersman should never go out without his
weapons, but this is an exception, because we must not
seem to have any suspicion of danger. We’ll appear to
be gathering wood to make our fire, and the Apaches
will conclude we are going to stay here all night.”
We sauntered out, apparently wandering carelessly in
.bn 099.png
.pn +1
and out among the trees and bushes, breaking off the
dry branches. We strained our eyes, but could discover
no one; yet later I learned from Winnetou himself that
fifty feet at most away from us he was hidden behind a
bush watching us. We gathered more wood for the
camp-fire than we needed, for Sam wanted enough in
reserve to enable the Apaches to kindle the fire quickly
when they discovered we were gone.
Darkness fell, and we gathered in the camp for the
eventful night. Sam, as the most experienced, sat at
the end of the grassy plain nearest the savanna, where
he could see the coming of the spies for whom we were
waiting, knowing they could not be far off. The fire
blazed up, lighting the plain and the savanna. How
foolish and inexperienced the Apaches must think us!
This great fire was the very thing to guide an enemy to
us from afar. We ate our supper, and lounged about as
if we were far from suspecting any danger. The guns
lay at some distance back of us towards the peninsula,
ready to be seized by us later in our flight.
Three hours after dark Sam stepped back to us and
said softly: “The spies are coming; two, one on this,
one on that side. I heard and saw them.” Then he sat
down with us, and began to talk in a loud voice on the
first subject that occurred to him. We answered, and
kept up a conversation intended to show the spies how
secure we felt. We knew that they were there watching
us, but by a strong effort we kept ourselves from
glancing towards the bushes concealing them.
The most important thing now was to know when
they had gone. We could neither hear nor see anything,
.bn 100.png
.pn +1
and yet we dared not waste a moment after their
departure, for in a short time the whole band would be
upon us, and in that interval the Kiowas must come
over from the peninsula. Hence it was best not to wait
until they had withdrawn, but to force them out. So
Sam rose as if he were going to get more wood, and
went into the bushes on one side, while I took the other.
We were now sure that the spies were gone. Sam
put one hand to his mouth and thrice imitated the
croaking of a bull-frog. This was the signal for the
Kiowas to come; it would not be noticed by the Apaches,
as we were beside the stream. Sam then resumed his
office of watchman to warn us of the approach of the
whole body of the enemy.
About two minutes after the signal was given the
Kiowas came over, in close single file—a long line of
two hundred warriors. They had not waited in the
woods, but had come down to the bank to be ready for
the signal, and on receiving it had instantly sprung
across the stream. They crawled behind us in our
shadow like snakes, lying close to the ground, near the
peninsula. This was done so quickly and silently that
in three minutes, at the most, the last one had joined
us. In a short time Sam came and whispered to us:
“They’re coming on both sides. Don’t put on any more
wood; we must let the fire die down, and take care that
an ember is left for the Indians to kindle another.”
We piled what wood we had left around the fire, so
that no light would fall upon our retreat. After this
was done each of us had to be more or less an actor.
We knew that fifty Apaches were close to us, yet that we
.bn 101.png
.pn +1
must not betray our knowledge by the slightest sign.
We expected them to wait until we were asleep; but
what if they did not wait, but fell upon us at once?
Of course we had two hundred allies in the Kiowas, but
in that case there would be a bloody struggle that might
easily cost some of us our lives.
The time had come, and it was interesting to watch
the various effects it produced on my comrades. Rattler
lay face downward on the ground as if asleep, the fear
of death gripping his heart with an icy hand. His
trusty friends glanced at one another with blanched
faces; they could not utter a word to help on our forced
conversation. Will Parker and Dick Stone sat there as
calmly as if there were no such thing as an Apache in
the world. Sam Hawkins made jokes, and I laughed in
spite of myself at his nonsense. For now that the danger
was upon us I was as calm as if we were about
to play a game of whist. And so we waited.
.bn 102.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch10
CHAPTER X.||THE CAPTURE OF WINNETOU.
.sp 2
For more than an hour we sat waiting the attack, and
then concluded that we had been right and the Apaches
would not come until we were asleep. The fire was getting
low, and I thought there was no use in putting
off the evil hour, so I yawned, stretched myself, and
said: “I’m tired, and I’d like to go to sleep; how about
you, Sam?”
“I’ve no objection,” he said. “The fire is going out
anyway. Good night, then.”
“Good night,” repeated all, and getting back from
the fire as far as we could we stretched ourselves out at
full length. The flame grew dimmer and dimmer, till it
died out altogether, only the ashes still glowing; but
the light could not reach us because of the wood piled
between us and the fire, and we lay entirely in the
shadow.
Now was the time to get quietly, very quietly, into
safety. I reached for my gun, and slowly crept away.
Sam kept at my side, the others following. When I
reached the horses I stirred them up that the noise of
their stamping might cover any possible rustling we
might make in going. We came over safely to the
Kiowas, who stood like panthers crouching for prey.
“Sam,” I whispered, “if we want to spare the two
.bn 103.png
.pn +1
chiefs we mustn’t let a Kiowa get at them: understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take Winnetou; you and Stone and Parker look
after Intschu-Tschuna.”
“One for you alone, and one for us three together?
That’s no way to do.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll finish up Winnetou in short order,
and there should be three to take charge of his father,
for his braves will be around him, and if he should
resist it would cost him his life.”
“Well, all right. We’d better go on a few steps and
be first, or some Kiowa will get ahead of us. Come.”
We posted ourselves a little in advance, and awaited
in greatest suspense the war-cry of the Apaches. It is
customary for an Indian leader to give the signal for an
onslaught by a cry in which the rest join like demons.
This is intended to deprive the victim of all courage,
and is well adapted to its end. The best idea one can
get of it is by uttering a long-drawn-out H-i-i-i-i-i-h at
the top of his voice, at the same time striking the mouth
repeatedly with the hand to break the sound into waves.
The Kiowas were at as high a tension as we were;
each of them wanted to be first, and pushed us forward
further and further till we were too near the Apaches
for comfort, and I wished very heartily the onslaught
might come.
At last it did come. The H-i-i-i-i-i-h arose in such a
tone as to go through my very marrow, followed by a
howl as dreadful as if a thousand devils had broken
loose. We heard quick steps and springs over the soft
.bn 104.png
.pn +1
earth. Suddenly all was still; for a moment we could almost
have heard an ant crawl. Then we heard Intschu-Tschuna
speak the short word: “Ko.” This means
“fire,” or “make a fire.” The ashes of our fire were
still smouldering, and as the Apaches obeyed him and
threw the dry wood on them, it kindled at once, and
the flames leaped up anew, lighting the entire camp.
Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou stood side by side,
and a circle of braves gathered around them as the
Apaches saw to their amazement that we were gone.
“Uff! uff!” they grunted in astonishment. Winnetou
then showed that presence of mind which later so often
excited my wonder. He saw that we could not be far
off, and that they, standing in the full light of the fire,
made a fine mark for our guns; therefore he cried:
“Tatischa! tatischa!” which means: “Be off!”
He had turned to spring away, when I stood before
him, and for a moment we looked each other in the
face. Quick as lightning his hand was at his knife, but
before he could draw it I struck him in the temple. He
staggered and fell to the ground, and I saw that Sam,
Will, and Dick had overpowered his father. The
Apaches howled in rage, but their cry was hardly audible,
for it was drowned by the horrible din of the
Kiowas, who now sprang upon them. As I had broken
through the Apache circle, I stood in the midst of a
fighting, howling tangle of men, struggling together.
There were two hundred Kiowas against fifty Apaches,
four to one, yet these brave warriors defended themselves
with all their strength. I had all I could do to
protect myself, and had to take a hand in the fight,
.bn 105.png
.pn +1
since I was in the midst of it; but I used my fists only,
as I had no desire to harm any one. After I had
knocked down four or five, and had space to breathe in,
I saw the struggle was becoming feebler, and five minutes
after it began the whole thing was over.
Only five minutes; but under such circumstances
five minutes seem a long time. Intschu-Tschuna
lay on the ground, and Winnetou beside him, both
bound. Not an Apache had escaped, for none of
the brave fellows had once thought of deserting
his chief and making off through the darkness. Many
of them were wounded, as were some of the Kiowas,
of whom three were killed and five Apaches, which
was exactly what we had hoped to avoid, but they
had made such fierce resistance that the Kiowas had
drawn their knives. The besieging party was all bound,
and now came the question of disposing of the prisoners.
I wanted to make it as easy for them as possible, but
Tangua, the Kiowa chief, said imperatively: “These
dogs are ours, not yours, and I will decide what is to be
done with them. I would take them to our village, but
we don’t want to be long on the way, for their people
might overtake us, and we have far to go. We will put
them to death by torture here.”
“I think you make a mistake,” I remarked.
“How?”
“In saying they belong to you. That is false.”
“It is true.”
“No; by the laws of the West a prisoner belongs to
his captor. Take the Apaches you captured, but those
we captured belong to us.”
.bn 106.png
.pn +1
“Uff! uff! how wise you speak! So you want to
keep Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou. But what if I
won’t allow it?”
“You will allow it.”
He spoke angrily, but I answered him gently, though
firmly. He drew his knife, thrust it into the earth up
to the handle, and said with flashing eyes: “If you lay
a hand on a single Apache your body shall be like this
earth in which my knife stands. I have spoken.
How!”
This was said in deadly earnest; but I would have
shown him that I was not afraid of him if Sam Hawkins
had not given me a warning glance which kept me
silent.
The captive Apaches lay around the fire, and it
would have been easier to leave them there where they
could be watched with no trouble, but Tangua wanted
to show me they were really his property to do with as
he pleased, and ordered them tied to the trees near by.
This was done, and none too tenderly, the two chiefs
being treated most roughly, and their fetters drawn so
tight as to make the blood burst from the swollen flesh.
It was absolutely impossible for a prisoner to break
away and escape unaided, and Tangua set guards around
the camp to prevent rescue.
Our second fire burned in the same place as the first
one, and we sat around it alone, the Kiowas being as
anxious to stay by themselves as we were to have them
do so. They had not shown themselves friendly towards
us from the first, and my late encounter with their
chief was not calculated to make them more so. The
.bn 107.png
.pn +1
looks of hatred which they cast upon us did not
invite to confidence, and we felt that we might be
glad if we escaped with no further clash with them.
They considered themselves the lords of the situation,
and regarded us as the big lion in the menagerie regards
the little dog he tolerates near him.
Sam, Dick, Will, and I were thinking about the execution
of our plan to free the chiefs, which was made
the more difficult in so far that only we could share in
it. We dared not let our comrades into our secret, for
they would certainly oppose it, if not betray it to the
Kiowas.
We sat together a long time, how long I could not
tell, for I had not yet learned to tell time by the position
of the stars, but it must have been till a little past
midnight. Our companions slept, our fire had burned
low, and all the Kiowas’ fires were out but one. Sam
whispered to me: “All four of us cannot undertake
this; two only are necessary.”
“Of whom of course I’m one,” I answered softly.
“Not so fast, dear boy; the matter is at the risk of
life.”
“I know that.”
“And you want to risk your life?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re a brave fellow, but you’d not only risk
your own, but the lives of the two captives.”
“Of course.”
“I’m glad you admit it, for then I think you’ll leave
it to me.”
“Not much.”
.bn 108.png
.pn +1
“Be reasonable. You know nothing about spying,
and experience is necessary for such a job. It must be
born in a man to do these things, and then he must
know how to use his talent.”
“I’ll prove I’m fit for it. Look here: do you know
whether Tangua is asleep or not?”
“No.”
“And yet it is important, isn’t it?”
“Yes; I’ll crawl over and find out.”
“No, but I will, and prove I’m fit for the other job.”
“Suppose you’re discovered?”
“Then I’ll say I wanted to make sure the guards
were doing their duty.”
“That’ll go, but for mercy’s sake be careful. If they
see you they’ll suspect you later of freeing the Apaches
if they get off.”
“They won’t be far wrong.”
“Take each tree and shrub for a cover, and look out
that the firelight doesn’t fall on you; keep in the dark.”
“I’ll keep dark, Sam.”
“I hope so; and if you succeed I’ll give you credit for
it, and think maybe after ten years you may amount to
something.”
I stuck my knife and revolver deep in my belt, not
to lose them on the way, and crept away from the fire.
Now as I tell it, I know the awful risk I took so lightly.
I had no idea of spying on the chief; I wanted to set
Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou free. I had set my heart
on doing it myself, but Sam Hawkins stood in the way
of my desire with his caution. Even if I did succeed in
spying on Tangua, I was afraid Sam would not let me
.bn 109.png
.pn +1
go to Winnetou, so I thought I would better make sure
of going while I had a chance. In doing this I not only
risked my own life and the lives of the Indians, but
those of my comrades; for if I were discovered it was
all up with them, and I knew this quite well, but it
made little impression on my youthful self-confidence.
Nor did the fact that I had never crawled silently among
enemies, Indian fashion, deter me in the least; I felt
perfectly sure of success.
The distance between our fire and the spot where
Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou were bound was not
more than fifty feet. I knew the best way to creep there
was on the fingers and toes; but it needed strength in
these members which I did not possess, so I crawled on
my hands and knees like a quadruped. Before I put a
hand down I first felt the spot to make sure there were
no twigs that would crackle under the weight of my
body and thus betray me; and if I had to go under or
between branches I tested them carefully to make sure
that I could get through. So of course I went slowly,
very, very slowly, but I did make some progress.
The Apaches were tied to trees on each side of the
grassy plain, the two chiefs on the left from our camp-fire.
The trees stood at the edge of the grass, and
scarcely five feet away sat the Indian, appointed especially
to watch them because of their importance. This
would make my task very difficult, perhaps impossible;
but I had a plan for distracting his attention, at least
for a moment, though to carry it out I needed stones,
and none seemed to be within reach.
I had put perhaps half my way behind me, and had
.bn 110.png
.pn +1
been gone over half an hour—twenty-five feet in half
an hour!—when I saw something gleaming at one side,
and crawling over to it found to my great delight a
small depression in the earth filled with sand that was
washed into it by the recent rain and the overflow of the
little stream. I filled my pocket with the sand and
crept on.
After another good half-hour I found myself at last
behind Winnetou and his father, possibly four feet away.
The trees to which they were bound, with their backs
towards me, were not broad enough to cover me, but
luckily a leafy branch stood out at the foot of them
which hid me from the guard. A few feet behind him,
again, there was a thorny bush upon which I had designs.
I crawled first behind Winnetou, and there lay still
a few minutes to observe the guard. He seemed tired,
for his eyes drooped as if it cost him an effort to keep
them open, for which I was grateful. Now I must find
out how Winnetou was fastened. I reached cautiously
around the trunk of the tree, and felt of his feet and
legs. Of course he perceived this, and I feared he would
make a movement which would betray me, but he was
much too wise and had too much presence of mind for
that. I found his feet were tied together and bound by
a thong to the tree, so that two knife-cuts would be necessary.
I saw by the flickering firelight that his hands
were crossed from right to left and bound backward to
the tree, and one cut would suffice to loose them. Now
something occurred to me of which I had not thought
before: when Winnetou was freed he might take to
.bn 111.png
.pn +1
flight instantly, and that would put me in the greatest
danger. I thought and thought, but could find no way
out of the difficulty; I must risk it, and if the Apache
sprang away at once I must save myself with equal
speed.
How mistaken I was in Winnetou! I did not know
him. We have discussed his liberation since, and he has
told me that when he first felt my hand he believed it to
be an Apache’s. True, all whom he had brought with
him were captured, but it was possible that he had been
followed by a scout to bring him news of the main body
of his braves. He was sure that he was to be freed, and
waited confidently the cutting of his bonds. But he
certainly would not fly at once, for he would not go
without his father, nor would he endanger the life of
him who freed him.
I cut the two lower bands; the upper ones I could
not reach in my present position without risk of cutting
Winnetou’s hands. So I must stand up, and it was nearly
certain the guard would see me. But I had brought the
sand for such a moment. I thrust my hand into my
pocket, took out a handful of it, and threw it past the
guard into the bush behind him. This made a rustle;
the Indian turned and looked at the bush. A second
handful aroused his attention thoroughly—a poisonous
reptile might be hidden in there—and he rose, turned
around, and examined it carefully. Quick as a flash I
had cut the thongs. In doing so I felt Winnetou’s
splendid hair in my eyes, and I seized a strand in my
left hand, cut it off with the right, and then sank to the
.bn 112.png
.pn +1
ground again. Why did I do this? To have proof that
it was really I who had freed him.
To my delight Winnetou did not make the slightest
motion, but stood precisely as before. I wound the hair
into a ring and put it in my pocket. Then I crawled
behind Intschu-Tschuna, whose fastenings I examined
as I had Winnetou’s, and found him bound exactly as
his son had been, and he remained equally unmoved
when he felt my hand. Again I cut the lower thongs
first; then I succeeded in distracting the guard’s attention
as before, and freed the chief’s hands. He was as
considerate as his son, and made no movement. It occurred
to me that it would be better not to let the
thongs lie on the ground, for if the Kiowas found them
cut they might suspect us. So I took Intschu-Tschuna’s
bands away, crept back to Winnetou and got his, and
then began my journey back.
I had to make what haste I could, for when the chiefs
disappeared an alarm would at once be given, and I
dared not be anywhere around. I crawled farther into
the bushes to be out of sight if this happened, and made
my way back faster than I had come, but still cautiously.
When I got close to the camp I lay flat, and made the
rest of the way by wriggling along. My three comrades
were alarmed about me, and as I again lay down between
them Sam whispered: “We were worried about
you. Do you know how long you’ve been? Almost two
hours.”
“I shouldn’t wonder; half an hour going and half
an hour coming, and an hour there.”
“Why on earth did you stay so long?”
.bn 113.png
.pn +1
“To be sure the chief was asleep.”
“Good gracious! Dick and Will, hear this tenderfoot!
To make sure the chief was asleep, he stared at
him a whole hour!”
“Never mind; I proved to you I could crawl.”
I was keeping my eyes strained on the two Apaches,
wondering why they delayed going. The reason was
very simple: each was uncertain that the other had been
freed, and they stayed for a signal from their liberator.
As this was not forthcoming, Winnetou waited till he saw
the guard’s eyelids droop, when he motioned with his
hand to his father, and the chief returned the signal;
then they disappeared from their places.
“Yes, you have given us proof,” said Sam Hawkins,
answering my last remark; “but if you think you could
free the two chiefs by piercing their bonds with your
eyes for one full, precious hour, you’re mistaken. It’s
a difficult thing anyway; I’m not sure it can be done,
but if it can—good heavens! what is that?”
That instant the Apaches had vanished. I pretended
not to see, and asked: “What’s up? Why don’t you go
on?”
“Because—am I blind or not?”
He rubbed his eyes, and cried: “Yes, by thunder!
it’s so. Look yonder; are Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou
there?”
Before any one could answer the guard sprang up,
stared a moment at the deserted trees, and then uttered
a piercing cry that awakened every sleeper. The guard
announced in his own vernacular what had happened,
and a tumult began which was beyond description.
.bn 114.png
.pn +1
Every one ran to the trees, white men and red, I following.
But on my way I turned my pocket wrong side
out and got rid of the rest of the sand.
More than two hundred men surrounded the spot on
which but a moment before the two chiefs had stood.
A howl of rage arose which told me plainly what would
be my fate if the truth came to light.
Tangua ordered half his men to disperse over the
savanna, and search for the missing men as well as they
could in the darkness. He actually foamed with rage.
He struck the negligent guard in the face, tore his medicine-charm
from his neck and trod it under foot. This
was an everlasting disgrace, for the medicine-charm
means everything to an Indian, and to lose it is to lose
honor, and be an outcast from his tribe until he shall
rehabilitate himself by killing an enemy and seizing
his charm, which will then be considered as the victor’s
own. The guard took his bitter punishment without a
word, shouldered his gun, and disappeared among the
trees.
The chief’s rage was directed not only against this
unfortunate Indian, but against me. He strode up to
me, and shrieked: “You wanted to keep those two dogs
for yourself; go after them and catch them.”
I was turning from him without answering, but he
caught me by the arm, saying: “Did you hear my command?
Obey.”
I shook him off, and replied: “You cannot order me
to obey you.”
“Yes, for I am the chief of all this camp.”
I drew from my pocket the tin box in which I kept
.bn 115.png
.pn +1
my papers, and said: “Shall I give you your proper answer,
and blow up all your people? Speak another
word to displease me, and I’ll destroy you all with this
medicine that blows up the mountains.”
I was doubtful that this absurd statement would be
believed, but it was. He drew back, crying: “Uff! uff!
Keep your medicine for yourself, and be a dog like
the Apaches.”
We white men went back to our fire, and naturally
the topic of conversation was the escape and how it
came about. I did not reveal the secret even to Sam,
Dick, or Will. I was very happy in its possession, and
at the success of my attempt, which every moment of
the vain search for the fugitives made more certain.
The lock of Winnetou’s hair I have kept through all
my wanderings in the West, and I have it safe to-day, a
reminder not only of a mad adventure, but of a true
friend.
.bn 116.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch11
CHAPTER XI.||A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION.
.sp 2
The Kiowas’ manner was such as to convince us that
we would do well to look after our own safety, and we
dared not lie down to rest without leaving one of our
party on guard. We spent the night sleeping by turns,
and early in the morning our sentinel awakened us to
say that the Kiowas were following the trail of the fugitives,
for which they had been obliged to wait till dawn.
We in turn followed them, and the trail led us to the
spot where Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou had left their
horses, and where they had mounted and ridden away.
We surveyors resumed our work; we dared not lose a
moment, for the Indians were sure to return to rescue
their comrades and execute their twofold revenge, and
we could not know how soon this might be, for we had
no idea where the main body of the Apaches lay.
We worked hard till noon, when Sam Hawkins came
to me and said: “There seems to be something up
among the Kiowas in regard to the prisoners.”
“Something? Don’t you know what?”
“They seem to be getting ready to kill them, and to
do it soon, for they are preparing the torture now.”
“We must stop that.”
“Now look here; the Kiowas are two hundred strong.
.bn 117.png
.pn +1
Do you mean to say you can stop their doing what they
please?”
“I hope not to be obliged to do it alone; I count on
you and Dick and Will, and I have full confidence you
won’t forsake me, but will do your utmost to prevent
such wholesale murder.”
“So you have confidence in us! I’m very grateful
for it, for it’s no trifle to have the confidence of such a
man as you.”
“Listen, Sam; I’m in earnest. The fate of so many
men is not a subject for jesting.”
He gave me a whimsical glance out of his little eyes.
“The dickens! So you’re in earnest! Then I must
pull a long face. But do you consider the situation?
We are only four against two hundred, for we can’t
count on the others. Do you think we could possibly
succeed, or do you mean to live up to your new name of
Old Shatterhand, and knock down all the two hundred
warriors with your fist?”
“Nonsense! I didn’t give myself that name, and I
know well enough we can’t do anything against two
hundred; but must it come to force? Cunning is often
better.”
“Now I wonder if you read that in your books? You’ll
become prudent if you don’t look out, and I’d like to
see how you’d seem in that shape. I tell you there’s
nothing to be done here with all your cunning. The
Indians will do what they please, and not care a rap
whether you like it or lump it.”
“All right; I see I can’t depend on you, and I’ll have
to act alone.”
.bn 118.png
.pn +1
“For mercy’s sake, don’t do anything foolish. You
won’t have to act alone, for, whatever you do, we’ll stand
by you. But it’s not been my habit to run my head
against thick walls, for I know the walls are harder than
the head.”
“And I never said I’d do the impossible. But if
there’s any way to save the Apaches, we must find it.”
“Certainly; but what way is there?”
“I’ve been thinking I’d force the chief to do my will
by holding a knife to his breast.”
“And stab him?”
“If he wouldn’t give in, yes.”
“Good powers above! you’re mad,” he cried, shocked.
“I assure you I’ll try it.”
“It’s—it’s—” Sam checked himself, his surprised
and anxious face taking on another expression, until at
last he said: “I don’t know as it’s such a bad idea, after
all. Nothing but force would make Tangua yield, and
with a knife at his breast he might—Well, actually,
a greenhorn can have a small, so-called idea once in a
while.”
“The first thing is to get the chief away from his
braves. Where is he now?”
“Over there with them.”
“Will you get him off, Sam? Tell him I want to
speak to him and can’t leave my work.”
“I doubt if that’ll work; however, I’ll try. Suppose
he brings some of his men with him?”
“I’ll leave them to you and Stone and Parker; I’ll
take care of Tangua. Have thongs ready to bind him;
the thing must be done quietly and quickly.”
.bn 119.png
.pn +1
“Well, I don’t know how the plan’s going to work,
but, as nothing else occurs to me, you shall have your
way. We risk our lives, and I have no desire to die, but
I think we may come out of it with a black eye.”
He laughed in his usual quiet manner, and went off.
My companions were too far away to have heard what
we had been saying, and it never occurred to me to tell
them our plan, for I was sure they would have prevented
its execution. They valued their own lives more than
those of the captive Apaches, and I realized what a risk
I ran. But I felt I ought to give Stone and Parker a
chance to withdraw if they chose, and asked them if
they wanted to take a hand in the game. Stone replied:
“What is the matter with you? Do you think we’re
sneaks to leave a friend in the lurch? Your scheme is
a stroke worthy of a true frontiersman, and we’ll be glad
to take a hand; isn’t that so, Will?”
“Yes,” said Parker. “I’d like to see if we four
ain’t the fellows to beat two hundred Indians.”
I went on measuring, and did not look back until
Stone cried: “Get ready; they’re coming.”
I looked, and saw Sam approaching with Tangua and
three other Indians.
“A man for each,” I said. “I’ll take the chief.
Throttle them so they can’t scream, and wait till I
grab Tangua; don’t move first.”
We went over towards the Indians, and took up our
position where a bush screened us from the rest of the
Kiowas left to guard the prisoners. The chief’s face was
none too friendly, and he said in equally unfriendly tone
as he came up: “The pale-face called Old Shatterhand
.bn 120.png
.pn +1
has asked me to come. Have you forgotten I am chief
of the Kiowas, and you should have come to me, not
I to you?”
“I know you are the chief,” I answered.
“I have come because you have been a short time
among us, and have yet to learn politeness. Speak
briefly, for I have no time.”
“What have you to do that is so important?”
“We are going to make the Apache dogs howl.”
“Why so soon? I thought you were going to take
them to your village, and torture them in the presence
of your women and children.”
“We wanted to, but they would hinder us on the
war-path, whither we now go; so we shall kill them to-day.”
“I ask you not to do this.”
“It is not for you to ask.”
“Can’t you speak as civilly as I do to you? I only
said I asked you; if I had commanded you, you might
have had an excuse for being rude.”
“I want to hear nothing from you, and a command
is out of the question. No pale-face shall meddle in my
affairs.”
“Have you a right to kill the prisoners? No, don’t
answer, for I know what you will say; but there is a difference
between putting men to death quickly and painlessly,
and slowly torturing them. We shall never allow
that where we are.”
He drew himself up to his full height, and said scornfully:
“Whom do you think I am? Compared with me
.bn 121.png
.pn +1
you are like a toad which would attack a bear of the
Rockies. The prisoners are mine, and I shall do what
I please with them.”
“They fell into your hands by our help, so we have
the same right to them that you have, and we wish them
to live.”
“Wish what you please, you white cur; I laugh at
your words.”
He spat at me; and would have turned away, but I let
drive and knocked him down. He had a hard skull,
however, and, not being quite unconscious, tried to rise.
So I had to give him another blow before I could pay
any attention to the others. I saw Sam Hawkins kneeling
on an Indian whom he had seized by the throat;
Stone and Parker held the second one down, while the
third ran shrieking away. I came to Sam’s assistance,
and we bound our man as Dick and Will finished up
theirs. “That was foolish of you; why did you let the
third escape?” I said.
“Because Stone and I went for the same one. We
lost only two seconds by it, but it was enough to let that
rascal escape.”
“No matter,” said Sam. “It only means that the
ball will begin earlier. In two or three minutes the
Indians will be upon us, and we must take care to have
a free field between us.”
The surveyors had seen our action with horror, and
the head engineer came bounding over to us, crying:
“What is the matter with you people? What have you
done? We shall all be killed.”
.bn 122.png
.pn +1
“You certainly will if you don’t join us now,” said
Sam. “Call your people over here, and come with us;
we’ll protect you.”
“Protect us—” Bancroft began, but Sam interrupted
him.
“Silence!” the little man said sternly. “We know
what we’re about. If you don’t stick to us you’re lost.
Come on.”
We carried the three Indians to the open prairie,
where we halted and laid them down, for we knew an
open plain where we could see all around was safer than
a position that afforded hiding-places. Scarcely had we
got there than we heard the Kiowas’ howls of rage, and
after a moment they came running towards us; but as
one ran faster than another they were strung out in a
long line, not coming in a solid body; which was lucky
for us, as in the latter case it would have been harder to
bring them to a stand.
Plucky little Sam went a short distance towards them,
and threw up both arms as a signal to stop. I heard
him call out something which I did not understand. It
had no effect until it was repeated, then I saw the first
Kiowa, as well as the one next to him, pause. Sam spoke
to them, pointing at us. Then I called upon Stone and
Parker to raise the chief, and swung a knife over his
breast. The Indians howled indignantly. Sam spoke
further to them, and then one of them, next to Tangua
in authority, came out from the rest and proceeded towards
us. As they came up Sam pointed at our three
prisoners and said: “You see I spoke the truth. They
are entirely in our power.”
.bn 123.png
.pn +1
The under-chief, whose face betrayed the fury within
him, replied: “I see that these two Indians are alive,
but the chief seems to be dead.”
“He is not dead. Old Shatterhand’s fist knocked him
down, and he is unconscious, but he will soon revive.
Sit down and wait; when the chief comes to himself
again we will treat with you. But the moment one of
the Kiowas touches a weapon Old Shatterhand’s knife
will be plunged into Tangua’s heart.”
“How dare you raise your hand against us who are
your friends?”
“Friends! You don’t believe that yourself when you
say it.”
“I do believe it; have we not smoked the pipe of
peace together?”
“Yes, but we can’t trust this peace. Is it customary
for friends to insult one another?”
“No.”
“Yet your chief insulted Old Shatterhand. See, he
begins to move.”
Tangua, whom Stone and Parker had laid down again,
raised himself, looking at us at first as though he did
not feel sure what had happened, then he recovered
consciousness perfectly and cried: “Take off these
bands.”
“Why did you not listen to my request?” I asked.
“You can’t give orders here.” He gave me a look of
rage, and snarled:
“Silence, boy, or I’ll tear your eyes out.”
“Silence is more fit for you than for me,” I answered.
“You insulted me, and I knocked you down. Old Shatterhand
.bn 124.png
.pn +1
does not let go unpunished him who calls him
a toad and a white dog.”
“I will be free in a moment. If you do not obey me,
my warriors shall wipe you from off the earth.”
“You’d go first. Hear what I have to say. There
stand your people; if one of them moves a foot without
permission, my knife goes into your heart. How!”
I set the knife-point against his breast. He saw that
he was in our power, and could not doubt that I would
fulfil my threat. There was a pause, during which he
seemed to long to annihilate us with his wildly rolling
eyes; then he tried to control his rage, and asked more
mildly:
“What do you want of me?”
“Nothing except what I have already told you: that
the Apaches shall not die by torture.”
“Then you ask that they shall not die?”
“Do with them later what you will, but while we are
with you nothing must happen to them.”
Again he considered a while in silence. Through the
war-paint on his face we saw pass over it varying expressions
of anger, hatred, and malice. I expected that
the contest of words between us would be long, so wondered
not a little when he said: “It shall be as you wish;
yes, I will do more than that if you will fulfil the condition
I will make.”
“What is the condition?”
“First I want to tell you that you need not think I
fear your knife. If you stabbed me, you would be torn
to shreds in a moment by my warriors. No matter how
strong you are, you cannot fight two hundred foes. So
.bn 125.png
.pn +1
I laugh at your threat to stab me. If I told you I would
not do as you wish, you could do nothing to me. Nevertheless
the Apache dogs shall not be tortured; I will
even promise not to kill them if you will fight in a life-and-death
combat for them.”
“With whom?”
“With one of my warriors, whom I will choose.”
“What weapons?”
“Only knives. If he kills you, the Apaches must also
die; but if you kill him, they shall live.”
“And be free?”
“Yes.”
I could not help seeing that he considered me the
most dangerous of his white allies, and wanted to get
rid of me; for it goes without saying that his champion
would be skilled in the use of the knife. Nevertheless,
after short consideration I answered: “I agree; we will
smoke the pipe of covenant, then the combat may
begin.”
“What are you talking about?” cried Sam. “You
can’t be so foolish as to go into such a fight.”
“It is not folly, my dear Sam.”
“The greatest folly possible. In a fair fight the
chances would be equal, but they’re far from so here.
Did you ever have a fight to the death with knives?”
“No.”
“There; you see? Your opponent will, of course, be
skilled with the knife. And then think of the consequences
of such a fight. If you die, the Apaches die,
too; but if you kill your adversary, who is the worse for
it? No one.”
.bn 126.png
.pn +1
“But if I win, the Apaches get their lives and freedom.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Certainly; for it will be sealed by the solemn pipe of
covenant.”
“The devil’s truth will be in such an oath, which
covers some double meaning. And even if it is meant
honestly, you are a tenderfoot and—”
“Now give us a rest with your ‘tenderfoot,’ Sam,”
I interrupted. “You’ve been shown that this tenderfoot
knows what he is about.”
Although Dick Stone and Will Parker joined Sam in
imploring me to give up the bargain, I persisted, and at
last Sam cried impatiently: “No good, boys; he must go
on running his thick head against stone walls; I’ll say
no more against it. But I’ll see it’s a fair fight, and
woe to him who cheats you! I’ll blow him into a thousand
pieces with my Liddy, and they’ll be lost in the
clouds.”
The arrangements for the combat were now made.
Two circles were drawn in the sand, touching each other
and forming a figure 8. Each contestant was to stand in
one of these circles, and not step beyond it during the
combat. There was to be no quarter; one must die, and
his friends would not take revenge on his conqueror.
When everything was ready the bonds were removed
from the chief, and we smoked the pipe that sealed his
promise to me. The two other prisoners were freed, and
the four Indians went off to fetch their champion and
summon the braves to see the combat.
The surveyors all protested with me, but I paid no
.bn 127.png
.pn +1
attention to their words, and Sam said: “You are a
marvellously rash fellow. You will be killed, and what
shall I do in my old age? I must have a tenderfoot to
abuse; whom shall I scold if you are gone?”
“Some other tenderfoot.”
“That’s easier said than done, for I’ll never have
another out-and-out hopeless greenhorn such as you are
in all my life. Let me take your place. It’s no matter
if an old fellow dies, but a young—”
“Now hold your kind tongue, my dear old Sam,” I
interrupted. “It’s better a hopeless greenhorn should
die than a valuable, experienced scout. But I hope I
shan’t die.”
“Well, I’d rather take your place; but if I can’t,
promise me to remember it’s for life or death. Don’t
come any of your humane nonsense; remember, you’re
not dealing with a knight or a square man, but a rascal
and a murderer, who will kill you if he can. So get
ahead of him; don’t hesitate. I’m afraid you’ll be weakly
scrupulous.”
“I assure you I have no such idea. It’s he or I, and
I’ll do my best that it shan’t be I. There shall not be an
ounce of relenting, I promise you. I’ll save the lives of
all the Apaches, and my own, at the price of his, if I
can. It’s life or death, as you say, my dear Sam, and I
mean to live; don’t fret. Say a prayer for me, if you
remember how, and I know you do; and I think God will
bless a fight for such a good cause. Hush; here they
come.”
.bn 128.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch12
CHAPTER XII.||A DUEL, AND CAPTURE BY THE APACHES.
.sp 2
The Indians came slowly towards us; not all, but a
large number of them, for Tangua had left a portion of
them to guard the Apaches. On reaching the spot a
hollow square was formed, of which three sides were
filled in by Kiowas, our men occupying the fourth side.
The chief then gave a signal, and from the ranks of
the Indians strode a warrior whose proportions were
absolutely gigantic. Laying aside all his weapons except
his knife, he stripped off his clothing to his waist.
No one could look upon his knotted muscles and not be
anxious for me. The chief led him into the middle of
the square, and announced to us in a voice ringing with
the certainty of triumph: “Here stands Metan-Akva
[Lightning Knife], the strongest warrior of the Kiowas,
whose knife no man has withstood; his enemy dies beneath
his blows as though struck by lightning. He will
fight Old Shatterhand, the pale-face.”
“Lord help us!” whispered Sam to me; “he’s a real
Goliath. My dear boy, it’s all up with you.”
“Nonsense!”
“Don’t forget there’s only one way to conquer this
fellow, and that is to make the fight a short one. Let
the end be quick, for he can tire you out, and then
you’re lost. How’s your pulse?”
.bn 129.png
.pn +1
He put his fingers on my wrist, counted, and then
said: “Thank God, not more than sixty beats, and perfectly
regular. You’re not excited? Aren’t you a bit
afraid?”
“It wouldn’t do to be upset or afraid in a case that
depends on calm blood and eye. The chief has selected
this giant because he is invincible, and we’ll see whether
he really is so or not.”
While I was talking I, too, had stripped the upper
part of my body, for, although it was not necessary, I
did not wish it to appear that I desired to shield myself
from the knife. I gave my gun and revolver to Sam,
and stepped forth into the middle of the square. One
could almost see the throbbing of good Sam Hawkins’
heart, but I felt undisturbed, and confidence is the first
requisite for a combat.
The chief summoned us to take our places. Lightning
Knife looked me over contemptuously, and said
in a loud voice: “The body of this feeble pale-face
throbs with fear; is he afraid to enter the ring?”
Scarcely had these words been uttered than I stepped
into the southward circle, thus bringing my back towards
the sun, while it shone into my adversary’s eyes and
blinded him. This may seem like taking an unfair advantage,
but considering I had never fought with
knives before, while he was renowned for his skill with
them, this did not make up for the advantages on his
side, and it was perfectly fair. Tenderness towards my
opponent was worse than foolish; any weakness on my
part would not only have cost me my life, but the lives
of the Apaches for whom I fought; so, though a life-and-death
.bn 130.png
.pn +1
combat is a horrible thing, I was forced to do
my best to kill this Hercules.
“He is actually going to try,” laughed Lightning
Knife scornfully. “My knife shall drink his blood.
The Great Spirit gives him into my hand by taking
away his senses.”
Among Indians this sort of preliminary fight with
tongues is customary, and I should have been considered
cowardly if I had stood silent, so I answered: “You
fight with the mouth, but I have here a knife; take your
place if you are not afraid.”
He bounded into the other circle, crying angrily:
“Afraid! Metan-Akva afraid! Did you hear that,
ye Kiowa braves? I will have this white dog’s life with
my first stroke.”
“My first stroke will be the end of you. Now silence.
You should not be called Metan-Akva, but Avat-Ya
[Big Mouth].”
“Avat-Ya, Avat-Ya! This coyote pig dares insult
me; my blade shall eat his bowels.”
This last threat was very short-sighted on his part, for
it gave me a hint as to the manner and place in which
his weapon would be used. So he did not mean to stab
my heart, but give a knife-thrust below, and rip my
body.
We stood quite close, so that neither had to bend much
to reach his foe. Metan-Akva’s right arm hung straight
down; he held the knife so that the hilt rested on his
little finger, and the blade stuck out from between the
thumb and index-finger, the edge turned upward. This
showed that I was right: he intended to strike upward
.bn 131.png
.pn +1
from below, for if he were going to strike downward
he would have held the knife in the opposite way, that
is, so that the hilt lay against the thumb, with the blade
thrust outward through the fist by the little finger.
Then I knew the way in which I was to be attacked;
now the main thing was to know the exact moment,
which his eyes would tell me. I knew the peculiar flash
of the eyes which in such cases precedes a blow.
I dropped my eyelids to let him feel more secure, but
only watched him closer through the lashes. “Strike,
dog!” he cried.
“Be silent, and act, you red thief!” I replied.
That was a great insult, which must be followed
either by an angry answer or the attack, and the latter
thereupon ensued.
An angry dilation of his pupil warned me, and the
next moment his right arm struck quickly and forcibly
upward to rip my body like an old coat. Had I been
looking for a blow downward it would have been all
over with me, but I parried his thrust with my knife,
and cut him deeply in the forearm.
“Dog! swine!” he shrieked, dropping his knife in
rage and pain.
“Don’t talk; fight,” I said, raising my arm, and then
my knife was in his heart up to the hilt. I instantly
drew it out. The stroke was so true that a little stream
of red blood spurted out on me. My foe swung backward
and forward, groaned, and fell to the earth dead.
A wrathful howl burst from the Indians, but only the
chief moved; he came out from the others and knelt by
my adversary, examined the wound, rose, and gave me
.bn 132.png
.pn +1
a look which I shall not soon forget. It was eloquent
of fear, hatred, amazement, and admiration. He would
have gone away without a word, but I said: “Do you see
that I am still in my place, while Metan-Akva has left
his? Who has conquered?”
“You have,” he answered angrily, and went away;
but after taking five or six steps he turned back, and
snarled at me: “You are a white son of the wicked
spirit. Our medicine-men will find out your charm,
and then you shall give up your life to us.”
“Do what you like with your medicine-men, but keep
your word with us.”
“What word?” he asked haughtily.
“That the Apaches should not be killed.”
“We will not kill them; I have said it, and will hold
to it.”
“And they shall be free?”
“Yes, they shall be free. What Tangua, the chief of
the Kiowas, has said shall be done.”
“Then I will go with my friends and untie them.”
“I will do that myself when the time comes.”
“It has come, for I have conquered.”
“Silence! Did we speak of the time?”
“It was not specified, but it is evident—”
“Silence!” he thundered again. “I will decide the
time. We will not kill the Apache dogs, but can we
help it if they die for want of food or drink? How can
I help it if they starve before I free them?”
“Rascal!” I cried.
“Dog, speak another word like that, and—”
He did not finish his threat, but checked himself,
.bn 133.png
.pn +1
looking me in the face, which could not have been pleasant
to look upon.
I completed his interrupted sentence. “And I’ll
knock you down with my fist, you vilest of all liars.”
He sprang back, drew his knife, growling: “You will
not get near me again with your fist. If you come one
step towards me I’ll stab you.”
“So your Lightning Knife said, and tried to do, but
you see he lies there. I will consult my white friends
as to what shall be done with the Apaches. But if you
harm a hair of their heads, you are lost. Remember, I
can blow you all up.”
With these words I went back to Sam, who could not
hear the conversation between the chief and me, because
of the howling of the Indians. He sprang to meet
me, seized both my hands, crying: “Welcome, my dear,
dear boy! you have come back out of the jaws of death.
Dick, Will, see here; what do you think of this tenderfoot?
But foolhardy men are always the luckiest, and
the worst root grows the biggest potato. When you
went into that circle my heart stood still; I could not
breathe, and my thoughts were full of how I’d carry
out this tenderfoot’s last will and testament. But a
thrust, a stab, and the redskin rolled on the ground.
Now we’ve gained our end, and the Apaches are free.”
“You’re mistaken there,” I said.
“Mistaken? How so?”
“The chief made a mental reservation in his promise,
which now comes to light.”
“I mistrusted that,” cried Sam. “What is his reservation?”
.bn 134.png
.pn +1
I repeated Tangua’s words to him, and he was so
angry that he instantly started off to see the chief. I
resumed the clothing and weapons I had laid down, and
thought over the situation. Evidently the Kiowas had
been confident that Lightning Knife would kill me,
and they were furious over the result of our encounter.
They could not fall upon us, since it was a life-and-death
fight, and the survivor was promised security;
but they would find some excuse for a quarrel; of that
we might be sure.
The chief was occupied attending to the body of the
dead warrior, and Sam found him in no mood to lend
an ear to his protests. He strode back to me in high
dudgeon, and said: “The fellow absolutely refuses to
keep his word. He means to starve the prisoners to
death, and he calls that not killing them. But we’ll
keep our eyes open, and get a shot at him.”
“Provided we don’t get a shot that is a boomerang,”
I remarked.
“I think myself we’d better be ready to protect ourselves,
for our life may be in danger any moment. Lord
help us, the moment’s come!” he cried. “The Apaches
have arrived, and there’ll be a lovely row. Get ready
for the fight, gentlemen.”
Over beyond, where the prisoners and their guards
were, rose that instant the shrill H-i-i-i-i-i-h, the war-cry
of the Apaches. Contrary to all expectation,
Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou had already come back
with their warriors, and had attacked the camp of the
Kiowas. Those who were near us paused in amazement,
.bn 135.png
.pn +1
and then the chief shouted: “The foe among our
brothers! Quick, quick, and help them.”
He would have rushed back, but Sam Hawkins cried:
“You can’t go; don’t you see we are surrounded? Do
you suppose the Apache chiefs are such fools as only to
attack your guards and not know where you are?”
He spoke rapidly; but before he had quite finished,
the awful, soul-piercing cry arose around us. We were
standing, as already said, on an open prairie, and had
been so occupied that the Apaches had crawled behind
the bush which had served us in our attack on Tangua,
and had surrounded us without our knowledge, and now
sprang upon us from all sides in overpowering numbers.
The Kiowas shot at them with some effect, but not
enough to reckon.
“Don’t kill an Apache; not one!” I shouted to our
three scouts, for already the deadly battle raged around
us.
The head engineer and the three surveyors defended
themselves, and were cut down. While my eyes were
riveted on this awful sight I did not see anything that
went on around me. We were attacked by a considerable
band, and separated from one another. Although
we cried out to the Apaches that we were their friends,
it had no effect: they flew at us with tomahawks, and we
perforce had to defend ourselves, however loath to do so.
With our guns wielded as clubs we struck down so
many that we won a little breathing-time for ourselves,
during which I looked about me. Sam, Parker,
and Stone ran towards the bushes where the fight was
.bn 136.png
.pn +1
still hot, and, after making sure that the surveyors were
beyond help, I followed. I had scarcely reached the
bush when Intschu-Tschuna himself came up. He and
Winnetou had been with that band of Apaches which
had captured the camp and freed their kinsmen. This
achieved, both chiefs had run to the assistance of the
main body which we had encountered, Intschu-Tschuna
considerably in advance of his son.
As he bounded around the bush he saw me, and exclaiming:
“Land-thief!” raised his silver-studded
rifle to knock me down. I cried out to him that I was
not his enemy, but he would not listen, only redoubling
his efforts to strike me. There was but one thing to do:
if I would not be overcome, perhaps killed, I must disable
him. As he raised his arm again for a blow I threw
away my gun, with which I had parried his strokes,
hung on his neck by my left arm, and with my right fist
gave him a blow on the temple. His rifle dropped, he
staggered and fell. Then behind me a joyful voice
cried: “That is Intschu-Tschuna, the chief of the
Apache dogs. I must have his scalp.”
Turning around I saw Tangua, the Kiowa chief, who
had come upon the scene just as all this happened. He
dropped his gun, drew his knife, and stooped over the
unconscious Apache to scalp him. I seized his arm and
said: “Take your hands off. I have conquered him; he
is mine.”
“Be silent, white vermin!” he snarled. “What have
I to do with you? The chief is mine. Get out, or—”
He finished his sentence by striking at me with his
knife and seizing me with his left hand. I did not want
.bn 137.png
.pn +1
to stab him, so did not draw my own knife, but threw
myself upon him and tried to free myself from his grasp.
Failing in this, I choked him till he could not move,
and then bent over Intschu-Tschuna, whose face was
bleeding from my knuckles. Just then I heard a rustle
behind me, and turned to see whence it came. This
movement saved me, for I received on the shoulder a
violent blow which had been intended for my head, and
would certainly have broken it. It came from Winnetou.
He had been behind his father, as I have said before, and
coming around the bush he saw me kneeling over the
chief, who lay bleeding and apparently lifeless, and he
promptly gave me the almost fatal blow with the butt
of his gun. Then he dropped the gun, drew his knife,
and fell upon me.
My position was as bad as it could be. The blow had
shaken my whole body and lamed my arm. I tried to
explain to Winnetou, but he gave me no chance for a
word. He stabbed me, and the point of the knife struck
the edge of the tin box in which I carried my papers,
glanced up through my neck, and pierced my tongue,
but for which it would certainly have entered my
heart. Then Winnetou withdrew the knife, and held it
ready for the second stroke, his hand at my throat. The
fear of death doubled my strength; I could use only one
arm and hand, and he lay across me sidewise. I caught
his right hand, and squeezed it till he dropped the knife;
then I seized his left arm at the elbow and pulled him
over till he had to let go of my throat. Then I lifted
his knees, and with all my strength pushed myself from
under him, which threw the upper part of his body
.bn 138.png
.pn +1
on the ground. The next moment I was on his back,
and our positions were reversed.
The question now was how to hold him down, for if
he got up I was lost. Setting one knee on his thigh and
one on his arm, I caught him around the neck with my
one useful arm, while with the other hand he was feeling
for his knife, fortunately in vain. Now followed an
awful struggle between us; yet could I have spoken, one
word would have sufficed to clear up the situation, but
blood flowed in streams from my mouth, and when I
tried to speak with my pierced tongue I could only
stammer unintelligibly.
Winnetou exerted all his strength to throw me off,
but I lay on him like a mountain not to be gotten rid of.
He began to gasp, and I pressed my fingers into his
windpipe so tight that he could not breathe. Must I
kill him? Not in any case. I freed his throat for a
moment, and he instantly raised his head, which gave
me the chance I wanted. One, two, three good blows
with my fist in quick succession, and Winnetou was
unconscious: I had conquered Winnetou the unconquered.
I drew a deep, deep breath as well as I could
and not draw down my throat the blood which filled
my mouth and streamed as fast from the external
wound. As I tried to rise I heard an angry howl from
an Indian behind me, and received a blow on the head
which knocked me senseless.
When I came to myself it was evening; so long had I
lain unconscious. Everything seemed to me like a
dream; I felt as though I had fallen down beside the
wall of a mill-wheel, which could not turn because I
.bn 139.png
.pn +1
was wedged between its paddles and the wall. The
water rushed over me, and the force which should have
turned the wheel pressed on me stronger and stronger
till I thought that I should be crushed. All my limbs
were in pain, especially my head and one shoulder. By
degrees I realized that the mill was not a reality, but
delirium, and the roaring and rushing was not water,
but the result of the blow which had felled me. And
the pain in my shoulder was not caused by a mill-wheel
crushing me, but by the blow which Winnetou had
given me. The blood flowed from my mouth; it rushed
into my throat and choked me, and I awoke fully to
myself.
“He moves; oh, thank God, he moves!” I heard Sam
say. I had opened my eyes, but what I saw was far from
consoling. We were still on the spot where the fight
had taken place. Over twenty camp-fires were burning,
between which certainly five hundred Apaches were
moving about. Many were wounded, and a large number
lay dead on two sides, the nearest being the
Apaches, and those on the opposite side, a little farther
away, the Kiowas. Around us were the captive
Kiowas, all strongly bound; not one had escaped, and
Tangua, the chief, was among them. At a little distance
apart I saw a man lying with his body drawn
together in a ring, for the evident purpose of being
tortured. It was Rattler. His comrades were no longer
alive, having been shot at once; but he, as the murderer
of Kleki-Petrah, was reserved for a slow and agonizing
death. I was bound hand and foot, as were Parker and
Stone, who lay on my left. At my right I saw Sam
.bn 140.png
.pn +1
Hawkins, who was fastened by his feet, and his right
hand was bound against his back, but his left hand was
free, as I learned later, in order to tend me.
“Thank Heaven, you are conscious again, my dear
Jack,” he said, stroking my face lovingly with his free
hand. “How do you feel? Do you want anything?”
I tried to answer, but could not. I saw Sam bending
over me with anxious eyes, but I heard and saw no more,
for again I sank into unconsciousness.
Upon regaining my senses I felt myself in motion,
and heard the tread of many horses’ feet. I opened my
eyes. I was lying on the skin of the grizzly bear I had
killed, which was drawn together into a hammock and
hung between two horses, which were thus bearing me
somewhere. I lay so deep in the skin that I could see
only the heads of the horses and the sky above me. The
sun shone down on me, burning like molten lead, and
swelling my veins. My mouth was swollen and full of
blood; I tried to move my tongue, but could not.
“Water, water,” I tried to say, for I was consumed with
thirst, but I could only utter a hoarse groan. I said to
myself that it was all over with me, and tried to think of
God, and make a true act of contrition, and ask the
mercy I was so soon to need, and turn my eyes to the
land on the shore of which I stood; but again weakness
overcame me. This time I fought with Indians, buffaloes,
and bears, rode for life-and-death over scorching
plains, swam for months over shoreless seas—in short,
had a fever, caused by my wounds, in which I struggled
hard and long with death. Occasionally I heard Sam
Hawkins’ voice, but far, far away; occasionally, too, I
.bn 141.png
.pn +1
saw a pair of dark, velvety eyes—Winnetou’s eyes. Then
I died, was laid in my coffin and buried. I heard the
earth shovelled on the coffin, and lay in the ground a
whole unbroken eternity, unable to move, till the lid of
my coffin noiselessly slid off and disappeared. Was all
this true? Could I be dead? I raised my hand to my
forehead, and—“Hallelujah! Oh, thank God! He
comes back from death; he is alive!” cried Sam.
.bn 142.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch13
CHAPTER XIII.||NURSED TO HEALTH FOR A CRUEL FATE.
.sp 2
As I opened my eyes again upon this world I saw Sam
Hawkins bending over me, his face radiant with joy, and
a little behind him were Dick Stone and Will Parker,
tears of happiness in their honest eyes.
Sam took both my hands in his, pushed away the
forest of beard where his mouth should be, and said:
“Do you know how long you have lain here?” I answered
only with a shake of the head. “Three weeks;
three whole weeks. You have had a frightful fever, and
became rigid—to all appearance dead. The Apaches
would have buried you, but I could not believe you were
gone, and begged so hard that Winnetou spoke to his
father, who allowed you to remain unburied until decomposition
should set in. I have to thank Winnetou
for that; I must call him.”
I closed my eyes, and lay still; no longer in the grave,
but in a blessed languor, in weary content, only wishing
to lie so forever and ever. I heard a step; a hand felt me
over and moved my arm. Then I heard Winnetou’s
voice saying: “Is not Sam Hawkins mistaken? Has
Selki-Lata [Old Shatterhand] really revived?”
“Yes, yes; we all three saw it. He answered my
questions by movements of his head.”
.bn 143.png
.pn +1
“It is marvellous, but it were better he had not come
back, for he has returned to life but to be killed.”
“But he is the Apaches’ best friend,” cried Sam.
“And yet he knocked me down twice.”
“Because he had to. The first time he did it to save
your life, for you would have defended yourself, and the
Kiowas would have killed you. And the second time he
had to defend himself from you. We tried to explain,
but your braves would not hear us.”
“Hawkins says this only to save himself.”
“No, it is the truth.”
“Your tongue lieth. Everything you have said to
escape torture convinces us that you were even a greater
enemy to us than the Kiowa dogs. You spied upon us
and betrayed us. Had you been our friend you would
have warned us of the Kiowas’ coming. Your excuses
any child could see through. Do you think Intschu-Tschuna
and Winnetou are more stupid than children?”
“I think nothing of the sort. Old Shatterhand is
unconscious again, or he could tell you that I have
spoken the truth.”
“Yes, he would lie as you do. The pale-faces are all
liars and traitors. I have known but one white man
in whom truth dwelt, and that was Kleki-Petrah, whom
you murdered. I was almost deceived in Old Shatterhand.
I observed his daring and his bodily strength,
and wondered at it. Uprightness seemed seated in his
eyes, and I thought I could love him. But he was a
land-thief, like the rest; he did not prevent you from
entrapping us, and twice he knocked me in the head
.bn 144.png
.pn +1
with his fist. Why does the Great Spirit make such a
man, and give him so false a heart?”
I wanted to look at him as he spoke, but my muscles
would not obey my will. Yet as I heard these last words
my eyelids lifted, and I saw him standing before me
clad in a light linen garment and unarmed.
“He has opened his eyes again,” cried Sam, and
Winnetou bent over me, looking long and steadily into
my eyes.
At last he said: “Can you speak?” I shook my head.
“Have you any pain?” I made the same reply.
“Be honest with me! When a man comes back from
death he surely must speak the truth. Did you four
men really want to free us?”
I nodded twice.
He waved his hand contemptuously, and cried excitedly:
“Lies, lies, lies! Even on the brink of the
grave, he lies! Had you told the truth I might have
thought that at least you could improve, and ask my
father to spare you. But you’re not worth such intercession,
and must die. We will nurse you carefully, that
you may be sound and strong to bear long torture. A
weak or sick man would die quickly, and that is no punishment.”
I could not hold my eyes open any longer; oh, if I
could but speak! The crafty little Sam Hawkins did
not put our case very convincingly; I would have spoken
differently. As I was feebly thinking this, Sam said to
the young Apache chief: “We have told you clearly
what our part was in this affair. Your braves would
.bn 145.png
.pn +1
have been tortured, but Old Shatterhand prevented it
by fighting Metan-Akva and conquering him. He risked
his life for you, and as a reward he is to be tortured.”
“You have proved nothing to me, and the whole
story is a lie.”
“Ask Tangua, the chief; he is in your hands.”
“I have asked him, and he says you lie. Old Shatterhand
did not kill Metan-Akva; he was slain by our warriors
in the attack.”
“That is outrageous. Tangua knows we befriended
you and got the best of him, and now he wants to be
revenged.”
“He has sworn by the Great Spirit, and I believe him,
not you. I say to you, as I have just said to Old Shatterhand,
if you had been honest with me I might have
pleaded for you. Kleki-Petrah, who was our father,
friend, and teacher, showed me the beauty of peace and
gentleness. I do not seek blood, and my father, the
chief, does as I desire. Therefore we have not killed
one of the Kiowas whom we captured, and they will pay
us for the wrong done us, not with their lives, but with
horses, weapons, skins, and vessels. Rattler is Kleki-Petrah’s
murderer, and must die.”
Sam answered this, the longest speech I had heard
from the silent Winnetou, very briefly: “We can’t say
we were your enemies when we are your friends.”
“Silence!” said Winnetou sternly. “I see that you
will die with this lie on your lips. We have allowed you
more liberty than the other prisoners that you might
attend Old Shatterhand. You are not worth such consideration,
.bn 146.png
.pn +1
and henceforth you shall be more restrained.
The sick man needs you no longer, and you must come
with me.”
“Don’t say that, don’t say that, Winnetou,” cried
Sam in horror. “I can’t leave Old Shatterhand.”
“You must if I command it,” said the young chief.
“I will not hear a word. Will you come with me, or
shall my braves bind you and take you away?”
“We are in your power, and must obey. When shall
we see Old Shatterhand again?”
“On the day of his death and yours.”
“Not before?”
“No.”
“Then let us say good-by now, before we follow you.”
He grasped my hands, and I felt his beard on my face
as he kissed my brow. Stone and Parker did the same,
and then they went away with Winnetou.
I lay a long time alone, till the Apaches came and
carried me I knew not where, for I was too weak to see,
and then I was left alone again, and slept. When I
awoke I could open my eyes and move my tongue a
little, and was far less weak than before. I found to my
surprise that I lay in the furthest corner of a large,
square room, built of stone, which received its light
from an opening on one side which served as door. The
skins of grizzly bears had been piled on top of one another
to make a comfortable bed, and I was covered with
a beautifully embroidered Indian blanket. In the corner
by the door sat two Indian women, one old, the other
young. Like all Indian women after they are past their
youth, the former was ugly, bent, and seamed by the
.bn 147.png
.pn +1
hard work that falls on the squaws when the braves are
on the war-path or hunting. But the younger was very
beautiful, so much so that she would have attracted attention
in any civilized society. She wore a long, light
blue garment, gathered about the neck, and held around
the waist by a girdle of rattlesnake-skin. Her only ornament
was her long, splendid hair, which fell below her
hips in two heavy black braids. It resembled Winnetou’s,
and the girl looked like him. She had the same
velvety black eyes, which were half concealed by long,
dark lashes, and there was no trace in her, nor in him,
of the high cheek-bones of the Indian; her soft oval
cheeks curved into a chin with a mischievous dimple.
She spoke softly to the old woman, not to awaken me,
and as her pretty, red lips parted in a laugh, her even,
white teeth flashed between them. Her delicate nose was
rather of Grecian than of Indian type, and her skin was
a light copper bronze, with a silvery tint. This maiden
looked about eighteen years old, and was, I felt sure,
the sister of Winnetou.
I moved, and the maiden looked up from her work,
rose, and came over to me. “You are awake,” she said,
in perfectly good English to my surprise. “Is there
anything you would like?” I opened my mouth, but
closed it again, realizing that I could not speak. However,
I had been able to move by an effort; perhaps I
could speak if I tried. I made a great effort, and said:
“Yes—I—want—much.”
I was delighted to hear my own voice after more than
three weeks’ silence, though the words came indistinctly
and painfully.
.bn 148.png
.pn +1
“Speak slowly or by signs,” said the young girl.
“Nscho-Tschi sees that speech is painful to you.”
“Is Nscho-Tschi your name?”
“Yes.”
“It is fitting; you are like a lovely spring day when
the first, sweetest flowers of the year are blooming.”
Nscho-Tschi means “Fair Day,” and she blushed a
little at my compliment.
“Tell me what you desire,” she said.
“Tell me first why you are here.”
“My brother Winnetou commanded me to nurse
you.”
“You are very like that brave young warrior.”
“You wanted to kill him.” These words were said
half as a question, half as a statement, while she looked
searchingly into my eyes, as if she would read my very
soul.
“Never!” I said emphatically.
“He does not believe that, and considers you his
enemy. You have twice struck down him whom no one
has conquered.”
“Once to save his life; once to save my own. I loved
him from the moment I first saw him.”
Again she looked long at me, then she said: “He
does not believe you, and I am his sister. Does your
mouth pain?”
“Not now.”
“Can you swallow?”
“I can try. Will you give me a drink of water?”
“Yes, and some to bathe in; we will bring it to you.”
She went away with the old woman, leaving me to
.bn 149.png
.pn +1
wonder why Winnetou, who considered me his enemy
and utterly refused to credit any assurance to the contrary,
should send me his own sister as nurse.
After a time Fair Day came back with the older
woman. The former carried a vessel of brown clay, such
as the Pueblo Indians use, filled with fresh water. She
thought me still too weak to drink without assistance,
and held it to my lips herself. It was dreadfully painful
to me to swallow, but it must be done. I drank in
little mouthfuls and with long rests between, until the
vessel was quite empty. How it refreshed me! Nscho-Tschi
saw it, and said: “That has done you good. By
and by I will bring you something else, for you must be
hungry, too. Now will you bathe?”
The old woman brought me a gourd of water, and set
it before me, with a towel of fine white flax. I tried to
use them, but was too weak. My fair young nurse
dipped the cloth in the water and bathed the face and
hands of the supposed enemy of her father and brother.
When she had finished, she asked me with a soft little
pitying laugh: “Were you always so thin?”
I felt my cheeks, and said: “I was never thin.”
“Look at yourself in the water.”
I looked into the gourd, and shrank back shocked, for
the head of a skeleton seemed to look up at me.
“What a miracle that I am alive!” I cried.
“So Winnetou says. You have even borne the long
ride here. The Great Spirit has given you an extraordinarily
strong body, for few others thus wounded
could have endured a journey of five days.”
“Five days! Where are we?”
.bn 150.png
.pn +1
“In our pueblo, at Rio Pecos.”
“And are the Kiowas here, too?”
“Yes. They really ought to die; any other tribe
would torture them, but the good Kleki-Petrah taught
us to be merciful, so they are to pay a ransom and go
home.”
“And my three comrades?”
“They are bound, and are in a room like this. They
are well cared for, because he who is to die by torture
must be strong to endure or it is no punishment.”
“And are they really to die?”
“Yes.”
“And I?”
“You, too.”
“Will Winnetou come to me?”
“No.”
“But I have something important to say to him.”
“He will not hear it. Yet if you will tell me what it
is, perhaps he will let me tell him about it.”
“No, thank you. I could tell you perfectly well; but
if he is too proud to come to me, I have a pride of my
own, and will send him no messages.”
“You will not see him till the day of your death. We
will leave you now. If you need anything, call us; we
shall hear, and will come to you.”
She gave me a little willow whistle, and then went
away with the old squaw.
My young nurse attended me faithfully every day; fed
me savory broths and porridges from a wooden spoon,
kneeling at my bedside, and nourishing me like a helpless
child. Day by day I grew stronger under this care,
.bn 151.png
.pn +1
though for a long time it hurt me dreadfully to eat. I
tried to keep down all expression of pain, but in spite of
myself the water would stand in my eyes when I swallowed.
Nscho-Tschi saw this, and Indian-like admired
silent endurance of pain.
“It is a pity,” she said suddenly one day, “that you
were born a lying pale-face, and not an Apache.”
“I do not lie; I never lie, as you will learn later.”
“I should be glad to think so, but Kleki-Petrah was
the only pale-face in whom truth dwelt. You murdered
him, and must die, and be buried with him.”
I felt sure that I should not die, for I had incontrovertible
proof of our innocence in the lock of hair which
I had cut from Winnetou’s head when I freed him. But
had I it still? Had it not been taken from me? I
searched my pockets, and found everything as I had
left it; nothing had been taken from me but my
weapons. I took out my box of papers, and found Winnetou’s
hair safely folded between them. I laid it back
with a happy heart; possessing this I had no fear of
dying.
I smiled at the beautiful Indian girl quite cheerfully,
and said: “The sweet Fair Day will see that I shall
live on many days.”
She shook her head. “You are condemned by a
council of the elders,” she said.
“They will decide otherwise when they hear that I
am innocent.”
“They will not believe it.”
“They must, for I can prove it.”
“Oh, prove it, prove it!” she cried. “Nscho-Tschi
.bn 152.png
.pn +1
would be glad indeed if she could know you were no
liar and traitor. Tell me your proof, or give it to me,
and let me take it to Winnetou.”
“Let him come to me to learn what it is.”
“He will not do that.”
“Nor will I send to him. I am not accustomed to sue
for friendship, nor send messengers to one who can
come to me.”
“How unrelenting you warriors are! I should have
been so glad to have brought you Winnetou’s forgiveness.”
“I do not need to be forgiven, for I have done no
wrong. But I would ask a favor of you. In case you
see Sam Hawkins, tell him to feel no anxiety, for as
soon as I am well we shall be free again.”
“Do not think that; this hope will never be fulfilled.”
“It is not hope, but certainty; later on Fair Day will
tell me I was right.” The tone in which I spoke was so
confident that she gave up contradicting me, and went
away without another word.
I improved steadily; the skeleton took on the flesh and
muscles of a living man, and the wound in my mouth
healed. Nscho-Tschi remained always the same, kindly
careful, yet sure that death was daily drawing nearer me.
I noticed after a while that when she thought herself
unobserved her eyes rested on me with a sorrowful,
questioning look; she seemed to be beginning to pity
me. I had thought her heartless, but had wronged her.
At last, one beautiful, sunny morning in late autumn
Nscho-Tschi brought my breakfast, and sat beside me,
instead of keeping at a distance as she had done since
.bn 153.png
.pn +1
I was able to move about and had almost completely
regained my strength. Her eyes were moist and rested
on me tenderly, and at last two tears rolled down her
cheeks.
“You are crying,” I said. “What has happened?”
“The Kiowas are going home; their ransom has come,
and now they go.”
“And that grieves you so? You must have indeed
become good friends.”
“You do not know of what you speak, nor suspect
what lies before you. The farewell of the Kiowas is to
be celebrated by your torture and that of your three
white brothers.”
I had been expecting this, and did not shrink as I
heard it. I ate my breakfast quietly, wondering what
would happen before the sun went down—possibly, in
spite of my fancied security, the last sun I should look
upon. I gave the dish back to Fair Day, who took it, no
longer able to keep back her tears.
“This is the last time I shall speak to you,” she said.
“Farewell. You are called Old Shatterhand, and are a
strong warrior. Be strong when they torture you.
Nscho-Tschi is sore distressed by your death, but she
will rejoice if you show no signs of pain and lock your
groans in your own breast. Give me this happiness, and
die like a hero.”
With this prayer she went away, and I watched her
through the open door. Then I threw myself on the bed
and waited, long, anxious hours, till mid-day. At last
I heard the tramp of many feet, and Winnetou entered,
followed by five Apaches. He looked at me long and
.bn 154.png
.pn +1
searchingly. “Do you remember when you were to see
me again?” he asked.
“On the day of my death.”
“You have said it. That day has come. Rise; you
must be bound.”
It would have been madness to attempt resistance,
for there were six Indians against me. I rose and they
tied my hands together. Then two thongs were put
around my ankles, so that I could take short steps, but
could not jump or run. I was then led out to the platform
which ran around the pueblo house, and from
which a ladder led to the ground. We descended slowly
from round to round, three Indians ahead, three behind,
I in the middle. On every platform stood women and
children, who gazed at me in silence and then came
down and fell in behind us. All the Indians of the village,
numbering several hundred, were gathering to see
us die.
.bn 155.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch14
CHAPTER XIV.||ON TRIAL FOR LIFE.
.sp 2
The procession which was escorting me to torture
passed on in silence, its numbers augmenting as we
went. I saw that the pueblo lay in a hollow at one side
of the broad valley of the Rio Pecos, into which we
turned. The Indians formed a half-circle, inside of
which, next the children, sat the women and maidens,
among whom I saw Nscho-Tschi, whose eyes rarely wandered
from my face through the following trial. My
three comrades were already on the scene when I arrived,
and showed that they had been well cared for during
our imprisonment. The expression of faithful, loving
old Sam’s face was divided between irrepressible joy
at seeing me again, and sorrow at the horrible circumstances
in which we met to part forever.
“Ah, my dear boy,” he cried, “here you come, too.
It’s a dreadful, very dreadful operation we’re to undergo;
I don’t believe we can stand it. Very few live
through the torture, but if we do I imagine we’re to be
burned.”
“Have you no hope of deliverance, Sam?”
“I don’t see where it’s to come from. I have been
racking my brains for a week, but I haven’t found the
least suggestion. We’ve been stuck in a dark stone hole
.bn 156.png
.pn +1
of a room, tied fast and well guarded—no earthly
chance to get away. How have you fared?”
“Very well.”
“I believe it. You’ve been fattened like a Martinmas
goose, and for the same reason. No, I see no deliverance
for us, and the only thing to do is to die bravely.
You may believe me or not, but I feel neither fear nor
anxiety, though I know by night there will be nothing
left of us on earth but four little handfuls of ashes.”
“Possibly; but I haven’t lost hope. I believe that at
the end of this threatening day we shall find ourselves
all right.”
“Is there any foundation for your hope?”
“Yes; a lock of hair.”
“A lock of hair!” he repeated in amazement. “Hair!
What on earth do you mean? Has some lovely maiden
in the East sent you her locks to present to the
Apaches?”
“No; this is a man’s hair.”
He looked at me as if he doubted my sanity, shook
his head, and said: “My dear young friend, you’re really
not right in your head. Your wound has knocked something
out of place there, for I must say I do not see how
a lock of hair can save us from torture.”
“No, but you will see; we’ll be free before the torture
begins.”
No one prevented our talking together. Winnetou
and his father and Tangua were discussing something
with the Apaches who had brought me hither, and
paid no attention to us. But now Intschu-Tschuna
turned around, and said in a voice plainly audible
.bn 157.png
.pn +1
to all: “My red brothers, sisters, and children,
and also the braves of the Kiowa tribe, hear me.”
He paused till he saw that he had every one’s attention,
and then continued: “The pale-faces are the enemies
of the red man, and only seldom is there one
whose eyes look upon us in friendship. The noblest of
these few good white men came to the Apaches to be
their friend and father. Therefore we gave him the
name of Kleki-Petrah [White Father]. My brothers
and sisters all knew and loved him; let them proclaim
it.”
“How!” arose as with one voice from the entire
circle. Then the chief continued in a long and impressive
speech to set forth the story of Kleki-Petrah’s murder,
and the attempt of the white men to build a railroad
through the Indians’ lands. It was a speech establishing
our guilt and pointing to our death, and was interrupted
at intervals by the acclaiming chorus of
“How!” from the tribe.
“At the hands of any other Indians,” Intschu-Tschuna
said, “who knew what we know of these men,
they would be given over to torture at once; but we will
be obedient to the teaching of our White Father, and be
a just judge; we will not condemn our enemies unheard,
but they shall be convicted out of their own mouths.
You have heard,” he continued, turning to Sam, “what
I have said. You shall tell us the truth; answer
the questions I will put to you. You were with the
white men who measured for the road of the fire-steed?”
“Yes, but we three did not measure your land; we
.bn 158.png
.pn +1
were there only to protect those who did. And as to the
fourth, who is called Old Shatter—”
“Silence!” the chief interrupted. “You shall only
answer my questions, and speak no further. You belong
to these pale-faces? Answer yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“And Old Shatterhand measured with them?”
“Yes,” replied Sam reluctantly.
“And you protected these people?”
“Yes.”
“Then are you more guilty than they, for he who
protects a thief deserves double punishment. Rattler,
the murderer, was your companion?”
“Yes, but he was no friend of ours; he—”
“Silence, dog! You are only to tell me what I wish
to know; if you speak beyond your brief answer you
shall be whipped. You delivered us into the hands of
our enemies, the Kiowas?”
“No.”
“That is a lie.”
“It is the truth.”
“Did you not spend a whole night spying on us? Is
that true or false?”
“It is true.”
“And you led the pale-faces to the water to entrap
us, and hid the Kiowas in the woods where they could
fall upon us?”
“Yes, I did, but—”
“Silence! I want short answers and no long speech.
That night and the next day we lost sixteen warriors,
and they, putting aside the blood and suffering of the
.bn 159.png
.pn +1
wounded, must be avenged. You must die; you have
no claim to pity or mercy.”
“We don’t want mercy; we want justice,” Sam interrupted.
“Will you be silent, dog?” thundered the chief. “I
am through with you. But since you speak of justice,
Tangua, the Kiowa chief, may testify. Are these pale-faces
our friends?”
“No,” said the Kiowa, evidently rejoicing that
things were going so badly for us. “No; they begged
me to kill you, to kill you all.”
This was too much for me. I broke the silence around
us, crying: “That is such a shameless lie that I would
knock you down if my hands were free.”
“Dog!” he shrieked, “I will knock you down.”
He raised his fist, but I said: “Strike, if you are
not ashamed to strike a man who cannot defend himself.
You have been talking here of justice, and letting us
testify. Is that justice when a man can only say what
you have made up your mind he shall say? How can
we testify if we are to be whipped for speaking one word
more than you want to hear? Intschu-Tschuna is an
unjust judge; he puts the questions so that our answers
must prove us guilty, allowing us to give no other, and
when we would speak the truth which would deliver us,
prevents us with abuse. We don’t care for such justice.
We’d rather you began the torture. You won’t hear a
sigh from us.”
“Uff! uff!” I heard a woman’s voice cry, and knew
it was Winnetou’s sister.
“Uff! uff!” cried many Apaches round her, for
.bn 160.png
.pn +1
courage is what Indians most respect, and they praise it
even in an enemy.
I continued: “When I first saw Intschu-Tschuna and
Winnetou I said to myself they were brave men and just
ones, whom I could love and honor. But I was mistaken;
they are no better than others, for they listen to
the voice of a liar and will not hear a word of truth.
Sam Hawkins has allowed himself to be silenced, but I
do not care for your threats, and despise a man who
oppresses a prisoner only because he is helpless. If I
were free I’d talk to you differently.”
“Dog! You dare to call me a liar!” cried Tangua.
“I’ll break your bones!”
He raised his gun to strike me, but Winnetou sprang
forward, caught it, and cried: “The Kiowa chief must
be quiet. Old Shatterhand has spoken boldly, but I
agree with him. Intschu-Tschuna, my father, the chief
of all the Apaches, may allow him to say all that he has
to say.”
Tangua had to obey, and Intschu-Tschuna granted his
son’s request.
He came near me, and said: “Old Shatterhand is like
a bird of prey, that still rends though he is caged. Did
you not knock Winnetou down twice? Have you not
even struck me with your fist?”
“Did I do it willingly? Did you not force me to
it?” I demanded.
“Forced you?” he repeated, amazed.
“Certainly. Your warriors would not listen to a word
from us; they attacked us so fiercely that we had to
defend ourselves; but ask them if we wounded them,
.bn 161.png
.pn +1
though we might have killed them. Then when you
came up and attacked me, you would not listen to me
either; I had to defend myself, and I might have shot or
stabbed you, but I knocked you down because I was your
friend and would not do you real harm. Then came
Tangua, the Kiowa chief, and wanted to take your
scalp, and because I would not let him he attacked me,
and I conquered him. Then—”
“This miserable coyote lies as if he had a hundred
tongues,” cried Tangua.
“Are they really lies?” asked Winnetou.
“Yes; I hope my young brother Winnetou does not
doubt my word.”
“I begin to; you lay senseless like my father when I
came; that agrees with his story. Let Old Shatterhand
continue.”
“I had fought Tangua,” I resumed, “to save Intschu-Tschuna
when Winnetou came up. I did not see him,
and he gave me a blow with his gun, fortunately
not on the head, but on the shoulder. He then wounded
me through the tongue, and I could not speak, or I
would have told him that I would be his friend and
brother, for I loved him. I was badly hurt, and
my arm lamed, but I fought him, and he lay unconscious
before me like Tangua and Intschu-Tschuna.
I could have killed both the Apache chiefs; did I do
so?”
“You would have done so, but an Apache came up
and struck you down with a tomahawk,” answered
Intschu-Tschuna. “I admit there is something in your
words that almost awakens faith in them, but when you
.bn 162.png
.pn +1
first knocked down my son Winnetou you were not
forced to do so.”
“Indeed I was. We wanted to save you and him.
You are brave men, and would have defended yourselves
from the Kiowas, and you would have been wounded or
killed. We wanted to prevent this, so I knocked Winnetou
down, and you were overpowered by my friends.”
“Lies, nothing but lies,” cried Tangua. “I came
up as he knocked you down; it was he, not I, that would
have taken your scalp. I would have stopped him, but
he struck me with that hand in which a great, wicked
spirit dwells and nothing can stand against it.”
I turned on him, and said threateningly: “I spared
you, because I want to shed no man’s blood; but if ever
I fight you again, it will be with weapons and not my
fist, and you shall not get off so easily; mark that.”
“You fight me!” he jeered. “We will burn you,
and scatter your ashes to the four winds.”
“I think not; I shall be free sooner than you think,
and demand a reckoning from you.”
“You shall have it, I promise you; and I wish your
words might be fulfilled that I might crush you.”
Intschu-Tschuna put an end to this little interlude
by saying to me: “Old Shatterhand is very bold if he
thinks to be free. He has only made statements, but
has not proved them. Have you anything more to
say?”
“Perhaps later; not now.”
“Say it now, for later you can say nothing.”
“I will be silent now, for I want to see what you decide
in regard to us. If I speak later, you will see that
.bn 163.png
.pn +1
Old Shatterhand is not a man whose word is to be
despised.”
Intschu-Tschuna turned from us, and nodded to certain
old warriors, who left the circle and gathered
around him for consultation, while Tangua of course
used every effort to turn the decision as he wished. The
conference lasted but a short time; the old braves came
back to their places in the circle, and Intschu-Tschuna
announced in a loud voice: “Hear, ye warriors of the
Apaches and Kiowas, what has been determined for
these four pale-faces bound here. It had been previously
decided in a council of the elders that we should drive
them into the water and let them fight each other, and
finally we would burn them. But Old Shatterhand, the
youngest of them, has spoken words which have found
favor with the wisdom of the elders. They deserve death,
but it seems they intended less wickedness than we believed.
So we have withdrawn our first sentence, and
will let the Great Spirit decide between us.”
He paused for a moment, and Sam said to me: “Gracious!
this is interesting, very much so. Do you know
what he means?”
“I suppose a duel, an appeal to arms; don’t you think
so?”
“Yes, but between whom?”
The chief, continuing, answered Sam’s question.
“The pale-face called Old Shatterhand seems to be the
foremost of them, so the decision shall be entrusted to
him. He shall be opposed by the one on our side whose
rank is highest; this is I, Intschu-Tschuna, the chief
of the Apaches.”
.bn 164.png
.pn +1
“The mischief! He and you!” whispered Sam in
the greatest amazement.
“Uff! uff! uff!” echoed through the Apache ranks,
for they, too, wondered that he should fight with me
when he could so easily have appointed another to the
task; but his next words explained the reason for this.
“The honor of Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou has been
sorely injured,” continued the chief, “they having been
knocked down by the fist of this pale-face. They must
wipe out this stain by fighting him. Winnetou must give
way to me, for I am older, and to me belongs the right
of killing Old Shatterhand.”
“You may be glad,” whispered Sam, “for your death
will be quicker than ours.”
Intschu-Tschuna spoke again: “We will unbind Old
Shatterhand, and he shall go into the river to swim
across it, but he shall take no weapon. I will follow him
with a tomahawk. If Old Shatterhand can get across,
and reach that cedar standing there in the plain, he is
saved, and his comrades are free; they can go where they
will. But if I kill him before he reaches the cedar they,
too, must die, but not by torture; they shall be shot.
Let all the braves signify that they hear my words and
agree with them.”
“How!” rose the answer in concert.
It may be imagined how excited they were at this
announcement; Sam, Dick, and Will more than I.
“These fellows have chosen badly; because you are
our superior it doesn’t follow that you know how to
swim. What nonsense! Their real reason is that you’re
a tenderfoot. I should have taken this; I’d have shown
.bn 165.png
.pn +1
him that Sam Hawkins can go through the water like
a trout. But you! Consider, my dear young friend, that
not only your life but our lives hang on this; if you fail
I can never speak another word to you.”
“Don’t worry, my dear Sam; I’ll do what I can. I
don’t think for a moment the Indians have any underhand
reason for choosing me. I am sure, too, I can save
you more easily than you could have saved us.”
“Well, I hope so. And it’s for life or death. You
mustn’t spare Intschu-Tschuna; never think of doing
that.”
“We’ll see.”
“That’s no answer; there’s nothing to see. If you
spare him, you’re lost, and we with you. These redskins
can throw a tomahawk a hundred feet away
and cut off your fingers. You’ll get it in the back or
head before you can get over, no matter how well you
swim.”
“I know, my dear Sam, and I know, too, that a
thimbleful of wit is worth more than a barrel-full of mere
strength.”
“Wit! What good is that against a well-aimed tomahawk?”
“It helps, Sam, it helps; and I have a plan. Remember
this: If I drown we are saved.”
I said this hastily, for the three chiefs now came over
to us. Intschu-Tschuna said: “We will now free Old
Shatterhand, but he need not think he can escape, for
more than a hundred will follow him to the water’s
edge.”
“It would never occur to me,” I said, “for, if I could
.bn 166.png
.pn +1
get away, it would be disgraceful to desert my comrades.”
I was liberated, and moved my arm to test its powers.
Then I said: “It is a great honor for me to contest with
the chief of the Apaches, but it is not an honor for
him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am no adversary for him. I have bathed,
of course, but I would not dare cross such a broad, deep
river as that is.”
“I am sorry to hear it; Winnetou and I are the best
swimmers of the tribe, and it is no victory for us to conquer
a poor swimmer.”
“And you are armed, while I am not; I go, then, to
my death, and my comrades must also die. When will
you strike me with the tomahawk?”
“When it pleases me,” he said, with the contemptuous
smile of a virtuoso to an amateur.
“It may be done in the water?”
“Yes.”
I tried to appear more anxious and cast down than
ever.
“And can I kill you?” I asked meekly.
He gave me a look which said plainly: “Poor worm!
there’s no question of that.” But he said: “It is a contest
for life or death; you may kill me, but in case such a
thing happens you must still reach the cedar.”
“And I shall not be held guilty of your death?”
“No; if I kill you, your comrades must die; but if you
kill me and then get to the cedar, you are free. Come.”
He turned away, and I pulled off my coat and vest.
.bn 167.png
.pn +1
Sam cried out to me in anguish: “If you could see your
face and hear the mournful tone of your voice! I am
in deadly fear for you and for ourselves.”
I could not answer him, for the three chiefs would
have heard me; but I had acted thus to make Intschu-Tschuna
feel secure and less on his guard.
“One more question,” I said before I followed him.
“In case we are free, shall we get back our property?”
He gave a short, impatient laugh, as if he thought
this an insane question. “Yes, you shall have it,” he
said.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Even horses and guns?”
He turned on me angrily, saying: “Everything; I
have said it. A crow flew beside an eagle in contest
of speed, and asked what it should receive if it conquered
the king of birds. If you swim as stupidly as
you ask questions, I am sorry I did not give you an old
squaw for an adversary.”
We passed through the half-circle, which opened to
make way for us. As I passed Nscho-Tschi she gave me
a glance in which she bade me farewell forever. The
Indians followed us, and settled down to watch the interesting
spectacle which was about to begin.
.bn 168.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch15
CHAPTER XV.||A SWIM FOR FREEDOM.
.sp 2
I fully realized the extreme danger that I was in.
No matter how fast I swam, or what curves I made, the
chief’s tomahawk was sure to overtake me. There was
but one hope, and that was in swimming under water,
and fortunately I was not the bungler I had made
Intschu-Tschuna think me. But I could not trust only
to swimming under water, for I should have to
come up to breathe, and when I did that the
tomahawk would crash into my skull. No, I should
not dare come to the surface, at least where the Indians
could see me. How should I manage? It was
with profound gratitude to God, on whom in my heart I
was calling, that I saw that the surroundings were favorable
to me. We stood on an open, sandy beach; the
end where the woods began again was only a little over a
hundred feet away from me, and just beyond that the
river made a bend which promised well, and the other
end of the strip of sand was a good four hundred feet
down-stream. If I sprang into the water and did not
come up again, they would naturally think I was
drowned, and look for my body down the stream, while
my plan was to swim under water in the opposite direction.
There was one spot, not far up, where the river
.bn 169.png
.pn +1
had cut under the bank, which hung over and made an
excellent refuge for a short breathing-spell. Further
on the bank was wooded to the edge, and an alluvial
growth seemed to meet it, which would serve perfectly
for the same purpose. But before the attempt was made
cunning deception was necessary. Intschu-Tschuna
took off all his clothes except his light Indian breeches,
stuck the tomahawk into his belt, and said: “We are
ready; jump in.”
“Will you let me first try how deep it is?” I asked.
A contemptuous smile passed over his face as he
called for a spear. It was brought to me, and I stuck it
down in the water. To my unspeakable delight it did
not touch bottom; but I acted more woe-begone and
scared than before, cowering down over the water, and
dabbling my foot in it like one who fears a shock if the
water should touch him suddenly. I heard a contemptuous
murmur behind me, and Sam’s voice cried out:
“For the love of Heaven, come back! I can’t look on at
this. Let them torture us; it’s better than seeing such a
figure of wretchedness before a man’s eyes.”
I could not help wondering what Nscho-Tschi must
think of me. I straightened myself and looked around.
Tangua’s face was the incarnation of scorn; Winnetou’s
upper lip had curled till one could see his teeth—he was
disgusted that he had taken my part; and his sister kept
her eyes down and would no longer look at me.
“I am ready; what are you waiting for now? In
with you.”
“Must it really be?” I stammered. “Is there no
other way?”
.bn 170.png
.pn +1
A shout of laughter arose, above which I heard
Tangua’s voice crying: “Let the frog go; give him his
life. No warrior can lay his hand on such a coward.”
And with a low growl like an angry tiger, Intschu-Tschuna
said: “In with you, or I’ll split your head with
my tomahawk!”
I shrank away, sat down on the river brink, put first
a foot and then a leg in the water, and acted as though
I was going to slide in.
“In with you!” cried Intschu-Tschuna again, and
upset me by a kick in the back. I threw up my arms as
if I were helpless, uttered a shriek of terror, and splashed
into the water. The next moment this humbug was
over. I struck bottom, held my head down, and swam
up-stream as fast as I could. I heard a splash behind
me: Intschu-Tschuna had jumped in. I learned afterward
that he had intended to let me have some headway,
and throw his tomahawk when I had almost reached the
other shore. But since I had shown such cowardice he
abandoned this plan, and sprang in after me quickly,
intending to strike me as soon as I came up; such an
idiot was to be disposed of in short order.
I reached the spot where the bank hung over the
stream, and let my mouth come to the surface. No one
could see me except the chief, because I was under
water, and to my grateful delight he kept his eyes
down-stream. I drew quick, deep breaths, and sank
again to continue my way. Next I came to the alluvial
woods, under which I rose again to breathe. My head
was so well concealed that I ventured to remain longer
at the surface, and I saw the chief lying on the water
.bn 171.png
.pn +1
like a wild beast ready any instant to pounce on its
prey.
Now the last and longest stretch lay before me to the
beginning of the woods, where shrubs and undergrowth
hung over the bank. This I accomplished happily, and
won the bank completely covered with twigs. Now to
reach the bend of the river already mentioned, go
around it, and swim to the opposite bank; and this must
be done most quickly of all, for there was no place after
this where I could come up to breathe. “Now St.
Christopher, brave ferryman, help me!” I thought. But
before I started I peered out through the bushes at
those whom I had fooled. They stood shouting and
questioning on the bank, while the chief still swam back
and forth waiting for me, although I could not possibly
have remained so long under water. I wondered
whether Sam Hawkins remembered that I had said that
if I were drowned we were saved.
I ran through the woods till I had left the bend of
the river behind me, took to the water again, and
crossed safely, thanks to being considered such a bad
swimmer and afraid of the water. Yet it was a clumsy
trick by which they had been fooled, for they had
known enough of me before to be sure I was no coward.
I followed the woods down-stream to their end. Here,
looking through the bushes, I saw to my amusement
that several Indians had jumped into the stream and
were poking about with their spears to find Old Shatterhand’s
body. I could easily have walked over to the
cedar, but I did not wish to owe my victory to craft
alone, but to give Intschu-Tschuna a little lesson, and
.bn 172.png
.pn +1
make him grateful to me. He still swam around the
same spot, for it never occurred to him to look over to
the other bank. I slipped into the water again, lay on
my back, so that my mouth and nose were above water,
and slowly propelled myself downward, paddling with
my hands. No one noticed me. When I got level with
them I stood up, treading water, and shouted: “Sam
Hawkins, Sam Hawkins, we have won, we have won!”
The Indians heard me, looked over, and what a howl
arose! No one who has ever heard such a sound will
forget it to the last day of his life. As soon as Intschu-Tschuna
espied me he swam towards me with long, bold
strokes, or rather darted towards me. I dared not wait
too long, but retreated to the bank, which I climbed,
and remained standing there.
“Quick! get to the cedar, quick!” shouted Sam
Hawkins.
There was nothing to prevent my doing so, but still
I did not move, for he was not yet dangerously near.
Then I ran swiftly towards the tree. Had I been in the
water, he could have thrown the tomahawk even at that
distance; but I was sure he would not use it till we
were on a level. The tree was three hundred feet away.
When I had made half this distance as fast as I could,
I stopped again, and looked back just as the chief came
out of the water. He pulled the tomahawk from his
belt, and ran towards me. I did not move, but as he
came dangerously close I turned as if to fly, but only
apparently. I felt sure that he would not throw the
tomahawk when I stood still, for I could then dodge it.
So I started running, stopped suddenly, and turned
.bn 173.png
.pn +1
around. Right! He had paused to make his throw
surer, swung his weapon around his head, and, even as I
turned, hurled it at me. I leaped to one side: the tomahawk
flew past me, and buried itself in the sand. That
was what I wanted. I ran over, drew it out, and, instead
of going on to the tree, walked deliberately over
to the chief. He uttered an exclamation of rage, and
sprang at me like a madman.
I raised the tomahawk, and called to him: “Halt,
Intschu-Tschuna! You deceived yourself in Old Shatterhand.
Do you want your own weapon buried in your
skull?”
He paused, and cried: “Dog! How did you escape
me in the water? The wicked spirit has helped you.”
“Don’t you believe that. If any spirit has defended
me, it is the good Manitou.”
As I spoke I saw a secret determination light his eyes
as he watched me, and I said warningly: “You mean to
surprise and attack me; I see it. Don’t do it, for it
would be your death. I will do you no harm, for I
really care for you and Winnetou; but if you attack, I
must defend myself. You know that I am stronger than
you without a weapon, and I have your tomahawk. Be
wise, and—”
I could say no more. His wrath mastered him beyond
control of his reason. He threw himself towards
me with hands outstretched like claws. He thought
he had me, but I slipped aside, and the force of his own
weight threw him down. Instantly I was over him;
putting my left knee on one arm, my right on the other,
I held him with the left hand by the throat, swung the
.bn 174.png
.pn +1
tomahawk, and cried: “Intschu-Tschuna, do you ask
for mercy?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll split your head.”
“Kill me, you dog!” he gasped, struggling to get
away.
“No, you are Winnetou’s father, and shall live; but I
must make you take a nap for a little while. You leave
me no choice.”
I struck his head with the flat side of the tomahawk—a
severe blow; his limbs drew up convulsively, and then
stretched out at full length. It looked from where the
Indians stood as though I had killed him, and again I
heard that awful howl.
I bound the chiefs arms down to his side with his
belt, dragged him over to the cedar, and laid him at its
foot. I had to reach the tree, under the conditions laid
down, to complete the work and win our freedom. Then
I left Intschu-Tschuna lying there, and ran quickly
back to the bank, for three Indians had thrown themselves
into the stream and were swimming over, Winnetou
at their head. In case they did not keep their word
this was too many, so I called to them as I reached the
river: “Your chief lives; I have done him no harm;
but if you come here I will kill you. Only Winnetou
shall cross, for I wish to speak to him.” They paid no
attention to these words, but Winnetou rose in the water
where they could all see him, and uttered a word
which I did not understand. They obeyed it, turned
back, and he came on alone. I waited for him at the
water’s edge, and as he emerged from it said: “It is
.bn 175.png
.pn +1
well they turned back, for it would have proved dangerous
to your father to have allowed them to come.”
“You have slain him with the tomahawk.”
“No; he forced me to strike him unconscious, because
he would not give in.”
“And you could have killed him; he was in your
hands.”
“I would not willingly kill an enemy; certainly not a
man I like and who is Winnetou’s father. Here is his
tomahawk. You shall decide whether or not I have
conquered and the promise to me and my comrades shall
be fulfilled.”
He took the tomahawk which I held out to him,
and regarded me long and steadily. His eyes grew
milder and milder; their expression changing into one of
amazement, and at last he said: “What kind of a man is
Old Shatterhand? who can understand him?”
“You will learn to understand me.”
“You give me this weapon, not knowing whether we
will keep our word or not, yet you could defend yourself
with it. Do you know you have delivered yourself
into my hands?”
“Pshaw! I’m not afraid, for in any case I have my
hands, and Winnetou is no liar, but a noble warrior,
whose word will never be broken.”
He stretched out his hand to me, and replied: “You
are right; you are free, and the other pale-faces also,
except the man called Rattler. You have confidence in
me; would I could have confidence in you!”
“You will yet trust me as much as I trust you; wait
only a little while. Now come to your father.”
.bn 176.png
.pn +1
“Yes, come; when Old Shatterhand strikes death may
follow, even when he does not intend it.”
We went over to the chief. Winnetou examined him,
and then said: “He lives, and will come to himself later
with an aching head. I must not stay here, but I will
send some men over to him. My brother Old Shatterhand
may come with me.”
This was the first time he had called me “my brother.”
How often I heard him say it afterward, and how sincere,
true, and faithful he was saying it!
We turned back, and swam across the river. The Indians
stood on the opposite bank and saw us coming;
they could perceive the difference in Winnetou’s manner
to me, and must have recognized the fact that I was
not what they supposed, either in the wrong done to
them, or in cowardice.
As we reached the bank Winnetou took me by the
hand and said: “Old Shatterhand has conquered; he
and his three comrades are free.”
“Uff! uff! uff!” cried the Apaches, while Tangua
stood looking at us darkly.
Winnetou strode past him without looking at him,
and led me to the stakes to which my three comrades
were bound.
“Hallelujah!” cried Sam. “We are saved! Man,
youngster, tenderfoot, how did you do it?”
Winnetou gave me his knife. “Cut their bonds,” he
said. “You deserve to do it yourself.”
I did so. As soon as they were free they threw themselves
on me, and took me in their arms, hugging me
till I was actually hurt. Sam even kissed my hand, with
.bn 177.png
.pn +1
tears dropping into his beard. “My dear boy,” he said,
“if ever I forget you, may the first grizzly I meet devour
me skin and hair! How did you do this? You were so
afraid of the water, and everybody thought you were
drowned.”
“Did I not tell you that if I were drowned we were
saved?”
“Did Old Shatterhand say this before the contest?”
asked Winnetou. “Was it then all planned beforehand?”
“Yes,” I nodded.
“My brother knew what he would do. My brother is
not only as strong as a bear, but as cunning as the fox
of the prairie. Whoso is his enemy must be on his
guard.”
“And is Winnetou such an enemy?”
“I was, but am no longer.”
“So you no more believe Tangua, the liar, but me?”
Again he looked at me long and searchingly as before,
extended his hand, and said: “Your eyes are good eyes,
and there is no dishonesty in your face. I believe you.”
I had resumed my discarded clothing, and took my tin
box from the pocket of my hunting-jacket, and said:
“Therein has my brother Winnetou done me justice;
I will prove it to him. Perhaps he may know what
this is.”
I unrolled the lock of hair, and held it up before him.
He put out his hand to take it, stopped short, and
stepped back, completely amazed, crying: “It is my own
hair. Who gave you this?”
“Intschu-Tschuna said this morning in his address
.bn 178.png
.pn +1
that the Great Spirit had sent you an unknown deliverer
when you were a prisoner in the hands of the Kiowas.
Yes, he was unknown, for he dared not let the Kiowas
see him; but now there is no longer need of his concealing
himself. You may truly believe that I was not
your foe, but your friend.”
“You—you—it is you who freed us?” he gasped,
more and more overcome, he who never betrayed surprise.
“Then we owe you not only our freedom but
our lives.”
He took me by the hand, and drew me to the place
where his sister stood watching us intently. He led
me before her, and said: “Nscho-Tschi, see here the
brave warrior who secretly freed our father and me
when we were bound to the trees by the Kiowas. Let
us thank him.”
With these words he drew me to him, and kissed me
on each cheek. She held out her hand to me, saying
only: “Forgive.”
She was to thank me, but instead begged for forgiveness.
But I understood her; she had been secretly
unjust to me; as my nurse she should have known me
better than the others, yet she, too, had doubted me, and
taken me for a miserable coward. She felt that it was
more important to make this right than to thank me as
Winnetou wished.
I pressed her hand and said: “Nscho-Tschi will
remember all I said to her; now it is fulfilled. Will my
sister believe me now?”
Fair Day smiled on me, and said simply: “I believe
my white brother.”
.bn 179.png
.pn +1
I went back to explain to my three friends the mystery
of the lock of hair, and tell them that it was I who
had freed the chiefs, while Winnetou went to seek his
father. Presently we saw them returning, and went
to meet them. Intschu-Tschuna looked at me with the
same searching gaze his son had given me, then he said:
“Winnetou has told me all; you are free, and will forgive
us. You are a mighty and cunning warrior, and
will conquer many foes. He who is wise will be your
friend. Will you smoke the calumet of peace with us?”
“Yes, I would gladly be your friend and brother.”
“Then come with me and Nscho-Tschi, my daughter,
to the pueblo. I will give my conqueror a dwelling
worthy of him. Winnetou, stay here to make the arrangements
you know of.”
We went back with him and Nscho-Tschi as free men
to the pueblo which we had quitted prisoners on our
way to death.
.bn 180.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch16
CHAPTER XVI.||TANGUA’S PUNISHMENT.
.sp 2
As we approached the pueblo I saw for the first time
what an imposing stone structure it was. The American
savage has not been supposed to have had ability to
build, but men who could raise such masses of stone as
the southwestern Indians have put into their pyramidal
pueblos, and knew how to fasten them securely with
such insufficient tools as they possessed, surely did not
stand in the lowest ranks of intelligence or knowledge
of architecture. And though it is said with truth that
these Indians once possessed knowledge which their descendants
have lost, it must be remembered that if time
and opportunity for advancement be denied them they
must inevitably deteriorate, and their present inferiority
proves rather the oppression of the white man than the
incapacity of the red man.
We climbed to the raised platform behind which lay
the best apartments of the pueblo. There Intschu-Tschuna
dwelt with his children, and there apartments
were given us also. Mine was a large room, which like
my first one had no window, receiving its light only
through the door, but this was so broad and high that
there was plenty of light. The room was bare, but
Nscho-Tschi furnished it quickly with skins, covers, and
.bn 181.png
.pn +1
ornaments, so that I felt at home at once. Hawkins,
Stone, and Parker were given a pleasant room together.
When the “guest-chamber” had been prepared, and I
had taken possession of it, Fair Day brought me a beautifully
carved pipe of peace with tobacco. She filled it
herself, lighted it, and as I drew the first whiff said:
“My father Intschu-Tschuna sends you this pipe. He
took the clay for it himself from the sacred stone
quarry, and I cut it. No man has ever had it between
his lips, and we beg you to accept it for your own, and
remember us when you smoke it.”
“Your goodness is great,” I said. “I feel ashamed
that I can make no gift in return.”
“You have already given us so much that we cannot
thank you for it; the lives of Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou
were in your hands, and you spared them, and
to-day again you might have killed the chief and you did
not do so. Therefore our hearts turn to you, and if you
will you shall be our brother.”
“If that may be, then my dearest wish will be fulfilled.
Intschu-Tschuna is a renowned warrior, and I
have loved Winnetou from the first moment that I saw
him. It would not only be a great honor but a great joy
to be the brother of such men; I only wish that my
comrades could share it.”
“If they will, they shall be treated as if they had been
born Apaches.”
“We thank you for this. So you carved the head of
this pipe yourself? How skilful your hands are!”
She blushed over this praise, and said: “I know that
the women and daughters of the pale-faces are far more
.bn 182.png
.pn +1
skilful than we. Now I will go, and bring you something
else.”
She disappeared, and returned with my revolver, my
knife, and everything else that had been in my pockets,
with nothing missing or injured.
“And how about our horses?” I asked.
“They are all here; you shall ride yours again, and
Hawkins is to have his Nancy.”
“So you know the mule’s name?”
“Yes, and the name of the old gun which he calls
his ‘Liddy.’ When you were ill I used to go to him
every day to tell him you were progressing. He is a
funny man, but a good hunter.”
“Yes, and he is far more than that. He is a true,
self-sacrificing comrade, whom you can’t help loving.
Now will you answer a question truthfully?”
“Nscho-Tschi does not lie,” she replied, simply and
proudly, “and least of all would I lie to you.”
“Then why did your warriors leave the contents of
my pockets untouched when they took everything away
from my comrades and the Kiowas?”
“Because my brother Winnetou ordered it so.”
“And do you know why he gave such an order?”
“Because he liked you.”
“Although he considered me his enemy?”
“Yes. You said a little while ago that you liked him
from the moment you first saw him; he had a similar
feeling for you. It grieved him to be forced to hold you
his enemy, and not only an enemy—” She stopped,
evidently because what she was going to say would have
wounded me.
.bn 183.png
.pn +1
“Say on,” I said.
She shook her head.
“Then I’ll finish for you. It did not grieve him so
much to consider me his enemy, for one can respect an
enemy, but to consider me a liar, a treacherous, false
man. Is that it?”
“You have said it.”
“Never mind; I think he knows now he was mistaken.
What about Rattler?”
“He will be tortured in a little while.”
“And why was I not told?”
“Winnetou would have it so; he thought your eyes
could not see nor your ears hear his agony.”
“I’ve no doubt he is right; but if I can bring about
what I desire I can bear it. In any case I must be there.
What torture is intended for him?”
“Everything possible. He is the worst pale-face that
the Apaches have ever captured. He killed our White
Father, whom we loved and honored, and for no reason;
therefore he must die by every agony which we know,
slow and long-continued.”
“That must not be; it is inhuman.”
“He deserves it.”
“And can you look at it?”
“Yes.”
“You, a maiden!”
She dropped her long lashes, and then raised her eyes
to mine. “Your women are not more tender-hearted
than we. They do cruel things only for their own pleasure,
kill little birds for their feathers, and are not
always gentle; Kleki-Petrah has told me of them. Our
.bn 184.png
.pn +1
ways are not your ways, but a woman’s heart is everywhere
the same, whatever the color of her skin. The
white men have not taught the Indian kindness, truth,
or justice. I can look on the punishment of a man who,
in murdering Kleki-Petrah, has given us pain greater
than his. But I ask you not to come to see Rattler
tortured, for Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou will not be
pleased if they see you coming with me.”
“I will go with you none the less, and they will pardon
it,” I said.
We descended the ladder again, and met Winnetou
when we had gone but a short distance. I had completely
forgotten Tangua until that moment when I saw
him standing near, and there was no mistaking how
angry he was.
I went up to him, and looking him steadily in the face
demanded: “Is Tangua, the Kiowa chief, a liar, or does
he love truth?”
“Would you insult me?” he shrieked.
“No; I only want to know. Answer me.”
“Old Shatterhand must know that I love truth,” he
said.
“You remember, then, what you said to me when I
was bound over yonder.”
“I said many things to you.”
“You certainly did; but you know what I mean. If
you don’t I’ll help your memory. You said that we
should have a settlement.”
“Did I say that?” he asked, elevating his brows.
“Yes, and you said further that you would be glad
to fight me, for you would crush me.”
.bn 185.png
.pn +1
“I don’t remember that; Old Shatterhand must have
misunderstood me.”
“No; Winnetou was there and can confirm it.”
“Yes,” said Winnetou readily. “Tangua said he
would settle with Old Shatterhand, whom he would
gladly fight, for he would crush him.”
“Now,” I continued, “you called me a frog without
courage, and tried in every way to do me harm. You’ve
got to eat your words.”
I felt that I must punish this Indian, not merely for justice’
sake and the effect on the Apaches, but for the benefit
of those white men whom he might meet in the future.
“My brother Old Shatterhand is right,” said Winnetou.
“If you do not keep your promise you will be a
coward, and should be expelled from your tribe. Such
things must not happen here, for no man shall reproach
the Apaches with having a coward for a guest. What
does the Kiowa chief intend to do?”
“I will consider it.”
“For a brave warrior there is nothing to consider.
Fight or be called a coward.”
Tangua drew himself up, saying haughtily: “Tangua
a coward! I will bury my knife in the heart of him
who says it.”
“I say it—I,” said Winnetou coolly, “if you do not
keep your word to Old Shatterhand.”
“I will keep it.”
“Then are you ready?”
“This moment; I long to taste his blood.”
“Good! Old Shatterhand will decide the weapons,
for you insulted him.”
.bn 186.png
.pn +1
“No; I am a chief, and am greater than he.”
“Let him choose,” I interrupted. “It makes no
difference to me what they are.”
“It shall be guns, two hundred paces apart, and I will
shoot first.”
Winnetou shook his head. “Tangua would have all
the advantages for himself,” he said. “Old Shatterhand
must shoot first.”
“No,” I said. “He shall have his way. Let him
shoot once, and I once, and no more.”
“No,” said Tangua, “we will shoot till one falls.”
“Certainly; for after my first shot you will be down.”
“Boaster!”
“You will see. I could kill you, but I will not. The
most severe punishment for you would be to lame you; I
will break your right knee. Remember.”
“Do you hear that?” he laughed. “This pale-face,
whom his own friends call a greenhorn, announces beforehand
where his shot shall go at two hundred paces!
Braves, let us laugh at him.”
He looked around invitingly, but no one laughed, and
he said: “You are afraid of him, but I will show you
how I mock him. Come, let us measure the paces.”
While this was being done I got my gun, examined it,
and found it in good condition. Both barrels were
loaded, but to be sure of them I discharged and reloaded
them. Sam came up, and said: “I have a hundred questions
to ask you, and can’t get a chance. However,
there’s one thing I must ask you, and that is if you’re
really going to shoot this fellow in the knee?”
“Yes.”
.bn 187.png
.pn +1
“Only there?”
“That is punishment enough.”
“No, it certainly is not. Such vermin ought to be
stamped on. Only think of what he has been guilty,
and everything has come from his having stolen the
Apaches’ horses in the first place. If I were in your
place I would put a bullet into his head; he’ll do his
best to get one into yours.”
“Or in my heart; I know that perfectly well.”
“But he won’t succeed; these Kiowas are no good at
shooting.”
The ground has been measured by this time, and we
took our places. I was quiet as usual, but Tangua
poured out a stream of abuse upon me, till Winnetou,
who stood on one side between us, said: “Let the Kiowa
chief be silent and pay attention. I will count three,
and then he may shoot; he who shoots before the time
shall have my bullet in his head.”
Of course all the Indians were watching us with intense
interest. They had divided into two files, to right
and left of us, so that a broad path ran between them, at
the end of which we stood. The deepest stillness
reigned. “The chief of the Kiowas may begin,” said
Winnetou. “One—two—three.” I stood still, presenting
the entire width of my body to my antagonist. At
Winnetou’s first word he raised his gun, aimed carefully,
and at “three” fired. The shot went over me,
close to my head. No one uttered a sound.
“Now Old Shatterhand may shoot,” said Winnetou.
“One—two—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “I stand up fairly to the
.bn 188.png
.pn +1
Kiowa chief, but he has turned half around, so that the
side of his face is towards me.”
“I may do so,” said Tangua. “Who shall forbid it?
There was nothing said as to how we should stand.”
“That is true, and Tangua certainly may stand as he
likes. He has turned his side to me because, that being
narrower than the breast, he thinks it will be harder
for me to hit, but he is mistaken; I can hit him just as
well. I might have shot without a word, but I’ll be
honorable with him. He was to have a wound only in
the right knee, but now that cannot be, for if he
stands with his side towards me the shot will shatter
both knees. That is the only difference; he can do as he
likes; I have warned him.”
“Shoot with bullets and not with words,” he answered,
ignoring my warning.
“Now Old Shatterhand shoots,” said Winnetou.
“One—two—three.” My bullet whistled through the
air. Tangua uttered a loud shriek, dropped his gun,
threw up his arms, waved them about wildly, and fell.
“Uff! uff! uff!” echoed all around, and every one
ran over to see where he had been wounded. I also went
over, the Indians respectfully making way for me.
“In both knees, in both knees!” I heard on all sides.
Tangua lay moaning on the ground as I came up;
Winnetou knelt by him examining the wound. He saw
me coming, and said: “The shot has gone just where my
white brother said it should; it has broken both knees.
Tangua can never again ride out to cast his eyes on the
horses of another tribe.”
When the wounded man saw me he began another
.bn 189.png
.pn +1
torrent of abuse, but I compelled him to be silent a
moment, and said: “I warned you, and you would not
heed the warning; you alone are to blame.”
He dared not complain of the pain, for under no
circumstances may an Indian do this; he bit his lip,
looked sullenly around, and growled: “I am wounded,
and cannot go home; I must stay with the Apaches.”
Winnetou shook his head, and answered decidedly:
“You will go home, for we have no room for the thief
of our horses and the murderer of our braves. We have
not avenged ourselves with blood, but have accepted
ransom in beasts and goods; more you cannot expect.
No Kiowa belongs in our pueblo.”
“But I cannot ride.”
“Old Shatterhand was much more severely wounded
than you are, and could not ride, yet he had to come
with us. Think of him often; it will be good for you.
The Kiowas must leave here to-day, and those of them
that we find in our domains to-morrow we will treat
as they wished Old Shatterhand to be treated. I have
spoken. How!”
He took me by the hand and led me away, and I knew,
though he said nothing, that he was pleased with the
result of this last adventure and the punishment of his
treacherous foe.
.bn 190.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch17
CHAPTER XVII.||THE END OF RATTLER.
.sp 2
Winnetou and I walked a little distance away from
the Indians who were still assembling to see Rattler’s
torture. When we had gone beyond their hearing, Winnetou
asked me gravely why I had left the pueblo.
“We came back because we heard that Rattler was
soon to die; is that so?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I do not see him anywhere.”
“He lies in the cart beside the body of his victim.”
“I was told that he was to be tortured, and I cannot
look upon such a death.”
“Therefore my father, Intschu-Tschuna, took you
back to the pueblo. Why did you not stay there? Why
do you want to see something you cannot look upon?”
“I hope that I may be present at his death without
being shocked. My religion teaches me to plead with
you for Rattler.”
“Your religion? Is it not his also?”
“Yes and no; he was born a Christian, but not a
Catholic Christian.”
“Did he keep its commandments?”
“Most certainly he did not.”
“Then it is not necessary for you to observe them in
regard to him. Your religion forbids murder; nevertheless
.bn 191.png
.pn +1
he is a murderer, so the teachings of your religion
are not to be applied to our treatment of him.”
“I cannot be guided by what he has done; I must
fulfil my duty without regard to other men’s shortcomings.
I beg of you, modify your decision, and let
this man die a speedy death.”
“What has been determined upon must be carried
out.”
“And is there no way to fulfil my request?”
Winnetou’s eyes sought the ground; he thought
earnestly for a while, then said: “There is a way, but
before I tell my white brother what it is I must beg him
not to use it, for it would disgrace him sorely in the
eyes of our warriors.”
“How would it? Is it a dishonorable action?”
“In the eyes of a red man it is. You would have to
appeal to our gratitude.”
“Oh, no decent man would do that.”
“No. We owe you our lives. If you appeal to that
fact you could force my father and me to do your will.
We would hold a new council, and during it we would
speak of you in such a way that our warriors must acknowledge
our debt to you and grant your desire. But
henceforth everything you have done for us would be
valueless. Is this Rattler worth such a sacrifice?”
“Certainly not.”
“My brother sees that I speak frankly to him. I
know the thoughts and feelings in his heart, but my
braves would never grasp them. A man who appealed
to gratitude would be contemptible to them. Shall Old
Shatterhand, who can become the greatest and most
.bn 192.png
.pn +1
renowned warrior of the Apaches, be driven away from
us to-day because our braves despise him?”
It was hard for me to answer; my heart bade me press
my request, my common-sense forbade it. Winnetou
understood the struggle within me, and said: “I will
speak to Intschu-Tschuna, my father. My brother may
wait here.”
“Don’t do anything foolish,” said Sam as he left us.
“You don’t know how much may depend on this; maybe
life itself.”
“Oh, that couldn’t be,” I said.
“Indeed it could easily. The red man so greatly despises
any one who asks a favor on the strength of what
has been done for him that we actually could not stay
here if you did it; and if we left here we should surely
fall into the hands of the Kiowas, and there’s no need
of telling you what that means.”
Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou talked earnestly together
for a while, then they came to us, and the former
said: “Had not Kleki-Petrah told me so much of your
faith, I should feel you were a man to whom it was a
disgrace to talk. But I can understand your wish perfectly;
though if my warriors were to hear it they would
never understand, and would only despise you.”
“It is not a question of my wish alone, but of Kleki-Petrah’s,
of whom you speak,” I said.
“How is it a question of his desire?”
“He believed in this same faith which commands me
to make this plea, and he died in it. His religion bade
him forgive his enemies. Believe me, if he could speak
.bn 193.png
.pn +1
he would not consent to his murderer dying such a
death.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know it.”
He shook his head slowly. “What kind of men are
you Christians? Either you are bad, and then your
wickedness is so great that no one can understand it,
or else you are good, and then your goodness is equally
incomprehensible.”
He and his son looked at each other, and spoke together
privately, but only for a moment. Then Intschu-Tschuna
turned back to me and said: “This murderer
was your enemy also?”
“Yes.”
“And you have forgiven him?”
“Yes.”
“Then hear me. We will see if there is the least,
tiniest spark of goodness in him. Should we find one,
we will try to do as you wish without disgracing you.
Sit here and wait. If I give you a signal, come over to
the murderer, and tell him to ask your pardon. If he
does this, he shall die quickly.”
“And may I tell him so?”
“Yes.”
Intschu-Tschuna went back with Winnetou to the
circle of braves, and we sat down where we were.
“I never dreamed that the chief would listen to you,”
said Sam Hawkins. “You must stand well with him.”
“That is not the only reason; it is the influence of
Kleki-Petrah, powerful though he is dead. These Indians
.bn 194.png
.pn +1
have absorbed more real, interior Christianity than
you suspect.”
We looked over towards the cart wherein the doomed
man lay, and saw a long box-like object, on which a man
was bound.
“That is the coffin,” said Sam, “made of hollow
logs with wet leather drawn over them, which will be
air-tight when the leather has dried. Kleki-Petrah’s
body has been embalmed, you know.”
Not far from the head of the valley rose a cliff on
which an open square had been newly made of great
stones piled on top of each other, and many more stones
had been gathered together around it. The man bound
on the coffin was now carried to this square. It was
Rattler.
“Do you know why those stones have been collected
there?” asked Sam.
“To build a tomb, I suppose.”
“Yes; a double tomb.”
“For Rattler, too?”
“Yes; they will bury the murderer with his victim.”
“Horrible! Think of being bound alive to the coffin
of the man one killed, knowing that is to be one’s last
resting-place!”
“I really believe you are sorry for this man. I
can understand your interceding for a quick death
for him, but I certainly can’t understand your pity for
him.”
The coffin was now raised so that Rattler was placed
on his feet, and he was bound fast by strong ropes to the
stone wall of the tomb. The Indians, men, women, and
.bn 195.png
.pn +1
children drew near to the place, and made a half-circle
around it. Profound, expectant silence reigned.
Intschu-Tschuna stood before the coffin and spoke.
“The Apache braves are gathered here because their
people have suffered a great loss, and he who has caused
it must pay for it with his life,” he said. He then spoke
in the figurative Indian manner of Kleki-Petrah, telling
them of his character and work, and the way in which
he had met his death, and concluded by announcing
that it had been decided that Rattler was now to be tortured,
bound as he then was to the coffin, and should
be buried with his victim. Turning to me at this point,
he gave me the expected signal, and we went forward
and were admitted into the circle. I had been too far
away before to see Rattler clearly, but now as I stood
before him, wicked and godless as he was, I felt the most
profound pity for the wretch. The coffin was twice the
width of a man’s body and over eight feet long. Rattler
was fastened with his back to it, his arms behind
him, and his feet stretched apart. He showed that he
had suffered from hunger and thirst. A gag was in his
mouth, and he could not speak; his head, too, was fastened
so that he could not move it. As I came up,
Intschu-Tschuna took the gag out of his mouth, and
said:
“My white brother wished to speak to this murderer;
now he may do so.”
Rattler could see that I was free and must be on good
terms with the Indians. I thought, therefore, that he
would ask me to speak a good word for him; but, instead
of this, as soon as the gag was removed he said to me
.bn 196.png
.pn +1
bitterly: “What do you want of me? Get out of here!
I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“You have heard that you were doomed to die, Rattler,”
I said gently. “There is no way out of that; die
you must, but—”
“Get out, you dog, get out!” he shrieked, trying to
spit upon me, but failing because he could not move his
head.
“You must die,” I continued unmoved, “but how
depends upon yourself. You are to be tortured; that
means long, long agony, through all this day, and perhaps
to-morrow. It is horrible to think of, and I want
you to escape it. At my request Intschu-Tschuna has
declared that you shall die quickly if you will fulfil the
condition he has made.”
I waited for him to ask me what the condition was,
but instead of doing so he poured out a storm of abuse
upon me which could not be repeated. As soon as I
could speak I said: “The condition is that you ask
my pardon.”
“Your pardon! I’d bite my tongue out first, and
suffer all the tortures this red beast can give me.”
“Remember, I did not make the condition, Rattler;
it was Intschu-Tschuna who decided thus, for I don’t
care about your apology. Consider what awful agony
lies before you, and that you can escape it all by saying
the little word ‘Pardon.’”
“Never, never! Get out, I tell you! I never want
to see your vile face again. Go, and don’t bother me.”
“If I go now, it will be too late to call me back. Be
sensible, and speak the one little word, I beg you.”
.bn 197.png
.pn +1
“No, I tell you, no. Get out! Oh, if I weren’t tied
I’d show you the way!”
“As you please; but if you call me back I can’t come.
Have you any relatives I can send a message to? Any
wish that I can carry out?”
“Only that you may follow me soon; nothing else.”
“Then I am helpless, and can do no more except
beg you, as a Christian, not to die in your sins. Ask
God’s pardon, if not mine; think of your crimes, and
of the judgment that lies before you.”
What his reply to this was I cannot repeat; his words
chilled me with horror.
Intschu-Tschuna took my hand and led me away, saying:
“My young white brother sees that this murderer
does not deserve his intercession. He was born a Christian,
and you call us heathen; but do you think a red
brave would speak such words?”
I did not answer, for what could I say? Rattler’s
conduct was inexplicable to me; he had been so cowardly,
and had shown such abject terror at the very
mention of torture, and now he acted as though all the
pains of the world were absolutely nothing.
“It is not courage,” said Sam; “it’s clear rage, nothing
but rage. He thinks it’s your fault that he has
fallen into the Apaches’ hands. He hasn’t seen you
since we were captured till to-day, and now he sees you
free and the red men friendly to you, while he must
die, and that’s ground enough for him to conclude we’ve
played some trick. But let the agony begin, and he’ll
sing another tune.”
The Apaches did not let us wait long for the beginning
.bn 198.png
.pn +1
of the torture. I meant to withdraw; but I had
never seen anything of the kind, and decided to stay
till I could look on no longer.
Several young braves came out from the rest with
knives in their hands, and placed themselves about
fifteen feet from Rattler. Then at a signal from the
chief they began throwing their knives at him in such
a way that these would not touch him, but would enter
the coffin all around him. The first knife stuck in the
leather at the right, the second in that at the left of
his feet, and so near them that there was no space
between them and the knives. The next two knives
were aimed farther up, and so on until the legs were
outlined by knives. Till now Rattler had kept still;
but as the knives came higher and higher till his whole
body was surrounded by them, he began to be afraid.
As each knife whizzed through the air he uttered a cry
of terror, and these cries grew shriller and shriller the
higher the Indians aimed. Now the body was all framed
around with knives, only the head being free. The
first of the knives next thrown struck the coffin to the
left of the neck, the second to the right, and they continued
around the face till there was no room left for
the smallest blade, when all the knives were drawn out.
This was only a little introductory game, played by
young lads to show they had learned to aim true and
throw straight; and having shown their skill they returned
to their places.
Intschu-Tschuna now called upon older youths, who
were to throw at a distance of thirty feet. When the
first of this band was ready, the chief went up to Rattler
.bn 199.png
.pn +1
and, pointing to the upper part of the right arm,
said: “Aim here.”
The knife flew through the air, pierced the muscle,
and stuck in the coffin exactly at the spot designated.
Rattler uttered a howl as if he were in his last agony.
The second knife went through the same spot in the
other arm, and his howls redoubled. The third and
fourth knives were aimed at the thigh, and entered
exactly at the spot the chief indicated.
If Rattler had fancied that the Indians did not really
mean to kill him, he saw now that he was mistaken.
Heretofore he had uttered only single cries; now he
howled unceasingly. The spectators murmured and
hissed, showing their contempt in every possible way.
An Indian who dies by torture acts far differently. As
soon as the spectacle which is to end with his death
begins he raises his death-song, in which he celebrates
his own prowess and scorns those who are killing him.
The greater his agony the greater the insults he heaps
upon his foes, and he never lets a sigh of pain be heard.
When he is dead his enemies acknowledge his glory,
and bury him with all Indian honors. It is glorious for
them to put such a hero to death, but it is quite different
in the case of a coward who shrinks from the slightest
pain and begs for mercy. There is no glory, but
almost disgrace, in torturing such as he, and scarcely a
warrior is willing to have any part in his end; so he is
knocked in the head, or put to death in some other
ignominious way. Such a coward was Rattler. His
wounds were trifling so far; they cost him some pain,
but they were far from being agony; nevertheless he
.bn 200.png
.pn +1
howled as though he tasted all the pains of the lost,
and kept repeating my name, begging me to come to
him.
“My young white brother may go to him and ask
him why he shrieks so. The knives cannot yet have
given him much pain,” Intschu-Tschuna said at last.
“Yes, come; come here, come!” cried Rattler. “I
must speak to you.”
I went, and asked him what he wanted.
“Take the knives out of my arms and legs,” he
whined.
“I can’t do that.”
“But they’ll kill me; who can bear such wounds?”
“Good gracious! Is it possible you thought you’d
be allowed to live?”
“You’re alive.”
“Yes, but I have not committed murder.”
“I did not know what I did; you know I was drunk.”
“The fact remains the same; you were often warned
against liquor, and you knew when you took it what a
beast it made you.”
“You are a hard cruel man. Plead for me.”
“I have done so. Ask pardon and you shall die
quickly.”
“Die quickly! I won’t die. I must live, live, live.”
“That is impossible.”
“Impossible! Is there no hope?”
“None at all.”
“No hope, no hope, no hope,” he wailed, and began
such a clamor of cries and groans that I could not stand
it, and left him alone.
.bn 201.png
.pn +1
“Stay with me—stay with me,” he shrieked. “Stand
by me.”
The chief interrupted him. “Stop howling, you
cur. You are not worth soiling the weapons of our
braves.” And turning to his warriors he asked:
“Which of the sons of the brave Apaches will put an
end to this coward?”
No one answered.
“Will no one do it?”
Again silence.
“Uff! This murderer is not worthy to be killed by
us, and he shall not be buried with Kleki-Petrah. How
could such a crow appear in the Happy Hunting
Grounds beside a swan? Cut him loose.”
Two little boys sprang forward at a signal, drew the
knives from Rattler’s limbs, and cut his bonds.
“Bind his hands behind his back,” continued the
chief.
The boys, who could not have been more than ten
years old, obeyed him, and Rattler did not make the
slightest attempt at resistance. What a disgrace! I
blushed to be a white man.
“Take him to the river, and push him into the
water,” was the next order. “If he can get to the other
shore he shall be free.”
Rattler uttered a cry of joy, and let the boys lead
him to the river. They actually did push him in, for
he had not sufficient sense of decency to jump in himself.
He sank at once, but came up again quickly, and
tried to advance by swimming on his back, which was
not difficult though his hands were tied, for his legs
.bn 202.png
.pn +1
were free. Would he reach the opposite bank? I
could not hope that he would; he deserved to die, and
if he were allowed to live the one who spared him would
almost render himself guilty of the future crimes the
miserable man was sure to commit. The boys stood
close to the water, and watched him.
“Get guns, and shoot him in the head,” said Intschu-Tschuna.
The children ran to the place where the braves had
left their weapons, and each took a gun. These little
fellows knew well how to handle such weapons; they
knelt on the ground, and aimed at Rattler’s head.
“Don’t shoot; for Heaven’s sake don’t shoot,” he
cried.
The boys spoke to one another; they acted like little
sportsmen in letting Rattler swim farther and farther,
and the chief did not interfere, seeing they knew their
business.
Suddenly their shrill, boyish voices rang out in a
sharp cry, and they shot. Rattler was hit in the head,
and instantly disappeared under the water. No cry of
triumph arose such as Indians always utter at the death
of an enemy. Such a coward was not worth breath,
and their contempt was so great that not an Indian
looked after his body. They let it float where it would,
not even taking the trouble to make sure he was dead.
Intschu-Tschuna came to me and asked: “Is my
young white brother satisfied with me?”
“Yes; I thank you.”
“You have no reason to thank me. If I had not
known your wish I should still have acted nearly as I
.bn 203.png
.pn +1
did. This cur was not worthy to suffer torture. You
have seen to-day the difference between brave red warriors
and cowardly white men. The pale-faces are all
ready for any wickedness, but when there is question of
showing courage they howl like dogs that see the whip.”
“The chief of the Apaches must remember that there
are cowards and brave men everywhere, as there are
good and bad ones.”
“You are right, and I will not wound you. But no
nation should think itself better than another because
it is not of the same color.”
.bn 204.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch18
CHAPTER XVIII.||TEACHING WINNETOU.
.sp 2
“And now there is but one thing left to do to finish
the work begun in our meeting—a happy meeting in
some ways, though so tragic in others,” I said to the
chief as we walked slowly towards Winnetou, whom we
saw approaching. “The Apache braves have only to
bury Kleki-Petrah, and then all will be completed,
will it not?”
“Yes.”
“May I be present with my comrades?”
“Certainly; I should have asked you had you not
made the request. You talked with Kleki-Petrah on
that miserable morning while we were gone for our
horses; was it an ordinary conversation?”
“No; it was a very earnest one, and important to us
both. May I tell you of what we talked?” Winnetou
had reached us as I spoke, and I turned to him with
this question.
“Tell us,” he said.
“While you were gone that morning Kleki-Petrah
and I sat down beneath a tree. We soon discovered
that we were of the same faith, and he opened his heart
to me. He had gone through a great deal, and borne
much, and he told me of his life. He also told me how
dear you were to him, and that it was his desire to die
.bn 205.png
.pn +1
for Winnetou. This wish the Great Spirit fulfilled but
a few moments later.”
“Why did he wish to die for me?” asked Winnetou.
“Because he loved you, and also for another reason
which I will explain later. His death would then be
an expiation.”
“As he lay dying on my heart he spoke to you in a
tongue I could not understand; what was it?”
“His mother tongue—German.”
“Did he speak of me then, too?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He begged me to be true to you.”
“Be true—to me? You did not know me then.”
“I knew you, for I had seen you; and whoever sees
Winnetou must know what kind of a man stands before
him. Besides, Kleki-Petrah told me of you.”
“What answer did you give him?”
“I promised to fulfil his wish.”
“It was his last wish. You then became his heir.
You promised him to be true to me, and you protected
me, guarded me, watched over me while I pursued you
as my enemy. The knife-thrust I gave you would have
been fatal to another, but your stronger frame it only
wounded. I am very, very guilty towards you. Be my
friend.”
“I have long been that.”
“My brother.”
“With all my heart.”
“Then we will cement the bond over the grave of him
who gave my soul into your care. A noble pale-face
.bn 206.png
.pn +1
has gone from us, and even in going has given us
another equally noble. My blood shall be your blood,
and your blood shall be my blood; I will drink yours,
and you shall drink mine. Intschu-Tschuna, the greatest
chief of the Apaches, my father, will consent to
this?”
Intschu-Tschuna gave us each a hand, and said in
a tone that evidently came from his heart: “I consent.
You shall be not merely brothers, but a single man with
two bodies. How!”
Having said this the chief left us, and Winnetou
and I went away together, and sat down by the bank of
the broad Rio Pecos, now reddening in the setting sun.
The depths of Winnetou’s earnest nature had been profoundly
stirred by what he had just learned of his
beloved teacher’s dying love and care for him. He took
my hand, and held it in his own for a long time without
speaking, and I had no desire to break the silence. At
last Winnetou moved, sighed, and asked: “Will my
brother Old Shatterhand forget that we were his enemies?”
“It is already forgotten,” I replied.
“But there is one thing you cannot forgive,” he said.
“What is that?”
“The insult my father gave you the day we met.”
“Oh, after the murder, when he spat in my face?”
“Yes.”
“Why could I not forgive that?”
“Because only blood can wash away such an insult.”
“Winnetou may dismiss all thought of it. That too
was instantly forgiven.”
.bn 207.png
.pn +1
“My brother says something that is impossible to
believe.”
“You must believe it; I proved long ago that it was
forgiven, for if it were not I should have revenged
myself on your father. Do you suppose that Old Shatterhand
could be treated thus, and not reply with his
fist if he resented it?”
“We wondered afterward that you did not do this.”
“The father of Winnetou cannot insult me. It was
all a mistake; that is all. Let us talk of something
else.”
“I must speak of this, for I should be guilty if I did
not tell my brother the custom of our people. No
brave ever admits a mistake, and a chief can do so
least of all. Intschu-Tschuna knows that he did
wrong, but he cannot ask your forgiveness. Therefore
he bade me speak of it to you. Winnetou acts for his
father.”
“That was not at all necessary, and in any case we
are quits, for I insulted you.”
“Never.”
“Yes. Isn’t a blow of the fist an insult?”
“That was in combat, where it cannot count as an
insult. My brother is noble and generous; we will not
forget it in him.”
“Let us speak of other things, dear Winnetou. I am
to become an Apache; how will it be with my comrades?”
“They cannot be taken into the tribe, but they are
our brothers.”
“Without any ceremony?”
.bn 208.png
.pn +1
“To-morrow we will smoke the pipe of peace with
them. In my white brother’s home in the rising sun
is there no calumet?”
“No; Christians are all brothers, and it is not necessary
to announce it.”
“All brothers! Is there no strife between them?”
“Certainly there is.”
“Then they are not different from us, or better than
we. They teach love, but do not feel it. Why did my
brother come here?”
The Indians never ask such personal questions; but
Winnetou could do so in my case, because we were to
be brothers, and he must learn to know me.
“I wanted to see the West, and I wanted to try my
skill in my profession, and above all I wanted to win
honor.”
“I do not see how you could win honor by—” He
paused.
“By stealing your lands,” I finished for him.
“Truly, Winnetou, I never thought of that side at all.
I was not to profit by the road, except as I did my work
well, and was paid for it.”
“Paid! paid! Do you care for gold? Do you need
it?”
“I have an uncle, a second father, who will give me
all I require; but every young man of spirit wants to
make his own name and fortune.”
“And measuring for that road would have done
this?”
“It would have been a first step, and a long one,
towards it.”
.bn 209.png
.pn +1
“And now you will not get your reward, because the
measuring is not done?”
“No.”
“How much longer time would have been necessary
to finish it?”
“Only one day.”
“Had I known you as I know you now we would have
delayed a day in coming back.”
“That I might have finished my work?” I asked,
touched by such generosity.
“Yes.”
“That means that you would have consented to the
robbery.”
“Not to the robbery, but only to the measuring.
The lines you make on paper do us no harm; the robbery
only begins when the laborers of the pale-faces
come to build the road for their fire-horse.”
He considered a while, and a thought was shaping
in his brain of such nobility that I doubt if many white
men would have been capable of entertaining it. At
last he uttered it: “My white brother shall receive all the
instruments again, and I will ask my father to allow him
to finish measuring for the road. We will go with our
warriors and protect him while he does this, and he shall
send his papers to the men who wanted them, as well as
their instruments, and so shall he make this first step
towards the name and fortune he desires.”
“Winnetou,” I cried, moved beyond expression by
a generosity which I could hardly fathom, “dear,
noble, kind Winnetou, there is no one like you. I can
never thank you.”
.bn 210.png
.pn +1
“There can never be thanks due me from you; my
debt must always be greater than yours, and my father
has said we shall be as one man with two bodies. But
how are you to use this name and fortune? Not here
among the Apaches. Will you then go away from
us?”
“Yes, but not immediately.”
“We shall be sorrowful. You are to be given the
power and rank of a chief of the Apaches. We believed
you would stay with us always, even as Kleki-Petrah
stayed to the day of his death.”
“My circumstances are very different from his.”
“You are to become Winnetou’s brother, according to
Kleki-Petrah’s will, yet you would forsake him. Is that
right?”
“Yes; for brothers cannot be constantly together
when they have different duties to fulfil. I must go
back to those who love me at home, and to whom I
owe so much, and see them as well as my other brother
here.”
“Then we shall see you again?”
“Of course you will, for my heart will draw me back
to you.”
“That rejoices my soul. Whenever you come we
shall be glad. You speak of other duties and other
friends. Could you not be happy with us?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I love Winnetou, and admire
his noble father; but I have been here too short a
time to answer that question. It is as when two birds
alight on the branch of a tree. One is nourished by
.bn 211.png
.pn +1
the fruit of that tree; the other requires different food,
and must fly away.”
“Yet you must believe that we would give you everything
you desire.”
“Indeed I know it; but when I spoke of food, I did
not mean the nourishment of the body.”
“Yes, I understand; you pale-faces speak of a food
of the soul. I have heard of it from Kleki-Petrah. He
missed this food among us, and sometimes he was very
sad, though he tried not to let us see it. But every
spring he journeyed to Santa Fé, and was refreshed
in soul. So, if my dear brother Jack must go, he
shall go; but his red brother begs him to come back
again.”
This was the first time Winnetou had ever called me
by my own name, and I was more than surprised to discover
in him a knowledge of the most sacred of Catholic
practices, for of course he spoke of Kleki-Petrah’s going
to Santa Fé to fulfil his Easter duties.
“Winnetou,” I answered sincerely, “whatever there
is at home that I love—and there is much,—and whatever
there is in the great cities of the East to satisfy
mind and soul, believe me I have learned to love you
and respect you too deeply to leave you willingly; and if
I go away, nothing but death shall keep me from returning
to my red brother’s side. And some day my
brave Winnetou’s noble soul also shall be nourished with
that heavenly Food which Kleki-Petrah went so far to
seek, and which I need to help me on the way he has
gone.”
.bn 212.png
.pn +1
“You are then a Christian, really believing in your
faith?” he asked.
“I don’t say I’m a good Christian,—God alone knows
whether or not I am that,—but I have strong faith; yes,
and I’d gladly be a good one.”
“And you think we are heathen?”
“No; you believe in the great, Good Spirit, and never
worship idols.”
“Then grant me one request.”
“Gladly. What is it?”
“Never speak of your faith to me. Never try to convert
me. It is as Kleki-Petrah said. Your faith may
be the true one, but we red men cannot understand it.
If Christians did not drive us out and oppress us, we
might feel that they were good men, and hold their
teaching as good. Then we might have time and place
to learn what one needs to know of your Holy Book and
your priests’ teaching in order to understand them.
But he who is slowly and surely driven to death cannot
feel that the religion of those who kill him is the religion
of love.”
“You must distinguish between the religion and the
followers who only acknowledge it in words, but never
act by its light,” I said, at a loss how to meet this reproach.
“So all the pale-faces say. Men call themselves
Christians, yet do not act as such. I cannot understand
how it is that only one man, and now that you have
come I will say two men, of all the pale-faces I have
known, lived up to the Christian belief. We have our
good Manitou, who wishes all men to be good. I try to
.bn 213.png
.pn +1
do as He wishes. Perhaps I am a Christian—a better
one than those who are so particular about the name, but
have no love in them, and never follow Christian teachings.
So never speak to me of your faith, and never try
to make me a man who is called a Christian, yet may be
none. That is the request you must fulfil.”
I gave the promise, and have kept it. Are words
necessary? Is not practice a more eloquent preacher
than mere speech? “By their fruits ye shall know
them,” said Our Lord; and I vowed in my heart to be
Winnetou’s teacher by my life. There came an evening
at last, never to be forgotten, when he spoke on this
subject himself, and in bitter pain I reaped the fruit of
loving prayer and patient sowing as the dearest friend I
ever had lay dead with the waters of baptism glistening
on his brow.
Now I contented myself with a pressure of his hand,
signifying that I understood all the bitterness the
wrongs of his race caused him, and we said no more.
Presently we arose, for the sun had gone down in
splendor, and the river was growing purple as the light
faded. We went back to the pueblo, and the brave
chief, who was looking for us, welcomed us with a
fatherly kindness I had not felt in him before. We sat
down to our smoking meal together, and the beautiful
Fair Day served us so gracefully, so affectionately,
that I thought with wonder how truly among all sorts
of men home was home, and love made home-coming
sweet.
.bn 214.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch19
CHAPTER XIX.||THE BURIAL OF KLEKI-PETRAH.
.sp 2
The morning dawned fair and warm, and the pueblo
was early astir for the burial of Kleki-Petrah. Not all
of the Apaches lived in the pueblo, for though it was
large it would have been far too small to have accommodated
them. Only Intschu-Tschuna and his most
important braves dwelt here, forming with their families
and herds of horses the central point of the tribe of
Mascaleros-Apaches. From this pueblo the chief ruled
over the tribe, and thence took long journeys to the
various branches of the great Apache family which acknowledged
him as their head.
Representatives of every tribe had assembled to pay
their last tribute to the white friend whom they had all
loved and honored, and who had been faithful to them
even unto death.
We, my comrades and I, repaired early to the spot
where the grave was to be erected. I estimated the
height and breadth of the mass of stone, and then,
taking a tomahawk, Hawkins, Stone, Parker, and I went
through the woods, following the river downward, seeking
a suitable tree from which to make a cross.
When we returned to the burial-place the sorrowful
ceremonies had begun. The Indians had worked
.bn 215.png
.pn +1
rapidly on the construction of the tomb, which was
nearly finished. It was surrounded by braves, who were
intoning their peculiar and profoundly touching death-song.
Its dull, monotonous tone was broken occasionally
by a shrill, piercing cry, which startled the ear
as a sudden flash of lightning from heavy clouds startles
the eye by flashing across it. Twelve Indians were
working on the tomb under the direction of the two
chiefs, and between them and the singers danced a
figure decked in all the insignia of his race, and making
grotesque, slow motions, and curious leaps.
“Who is that—the medicine-man?” I asked.
“Yes,” Sam replied.
“Indian customs at the burial of a Catholic! What
do you say to that, my dear Sam?”
“You don’t like it?” asked Sam.
“Certainly not.”
“Then don’t show it. You would offend the Apaches mortally.”
“But this absurd mumming annoys me more than I
can say.”
“They mean well; they can’t do better than they
know. It isn’t heathenish. These good folks believe
in one Great Spirit, to whom their dead friend and
teacher has gone. They bid him farewell, and mourn
his death in their own way, and everything that medicine-man
does has a symbolic meaning. Let them do
as they will. There is no priest anywhere near here,
and they won’t prevent us putting our cross at the head
of the grave.”
As we placed the cross before the coffin Winnetou
.bn 216.png
.pn +1
asked: “Shall this sign of Christianity be placed over
the grave?”
“Yes.”
“That is right. I should have asked my brother Old
Shatterhand to make a cross, for Kleki-Petrah had one
in his dwelling, and begged us to put one over his grave
when he should die. Where must it stand?”
“At the head of the grave.”
“As in those great, tall houses in which Christians
pray to the Great Spirit? I have seen them. It shall
be as you wish. Sit here and see that it is done properly.”
In a short time the tomb was complete; it was
crowned by our cross, and had an opening left to receive
the coffin, which still stood outside. Then came Nscho-Tschi.
She had been to the pueblo to get two clay cups,
which she had taken to the river and filled with water.
Having done this she returned to the grave and set them
on the coffin—for what purpose I was soon to learn.
Everything was now ready for the burial. Intschu-Tschuna
gave a signal with his hand for the song of
lamentation to cease. The medicine-man squatted
upon the ground. The chief went up to the coffin, and
spoke, slowly and solemnly. “My brothers and sisters
of all the tribes of the Apaches,” he began, “the sun
rises in the morning in the east and sinks at night into
the west, and the year awakes in the spring-time and in
winter sleeps again. So is it also with man. Is this
true?”
“How!” arose heavily on all sides.
“Man rises like the sun, and sinks again into the
.bn 217.png
.pn +1
grave. He comes like spring upon the earth, and like
winter lays himself down to rest. But though the sun
sets, it shines again in the morning; and when winter
disappears, once more the spring is here. Is this
true?”
“How!”
“Thus has Kleki-Petrah taught us. Man will be laid
in the grave, but beyond death he rises again, like a new
day and a new spring, to live forever in the land of the
great Good Spirit. This has Kleki-Petrah told us; and
now he knows whether he spoke truly or not, for he has
disappeared like the day and the year, and his spirit
has gone to the dwelling of the dead, for which he
always longed. Is this true?”
“How!”
“His faith was not ours, nor is our faith his. We
hate our enemies and love our friends; but he taught
us that man must also love his enemies, for they too are
our brothers. That we do not believe; yet when we
have obeyed his words it has been peaceful and well for
us. Perhaps his faith is also ours, only we could not
understand him as he wished to be understood. We say
our spirits go to the eternal Happy Hunting Grounds,
and he hoped for eternal Blessedness. Often I think
our Hunting Grounds may be his Blessedness. Is this
true?”
“How!”
“He often told us of the Saviour who came to make
all men blessed. We believe in his words, because there
was never a lie on his lips. This Saviour came for all
men; has He been with the red man? If He came, we
.bn 218.png
.pn +1
would welcome Him; for we shall be destroyed or driven
away by the pale-faces, and we long for Him. Is this
true?”
“How!”
“This was Kleki-Petrah’s teaching. Now I speak of
his end. It came upon him as a wild beast falls upon
its prey. Sudden and unforeseen it was. He was
strong and well, and stood at our side. He would have
mounted his horse and ridden home with us, but the
bullet of the murderer struck him. My brothers and
sisters may lament him.”
There arose a dull cry of woe, growing louder and
higher, till it ended in a piercing shriek. Then the
chief continued: “We have avenged his death. The
cowardly dog who killed him was not worthy to follow
him in death; he has been shot by the children, and his
body floats down the stream. Is this true?”
“How!”
“Now is the spirit of Kleki-Petrah gone from us,
but his body remains, over which we raise a memorial to
him, to show to our successors that we had a good White
Father who was our teacher, and whom we loved. He
was not born in this land, but he came from afar, beyond
the big water, where oaks grow. So to honor him
and speak of our love for him we have brought an oak
to plant beside his grave. And as it sprouts and spreads
so will his spirit grow great beyond the grave. And as
the oak grows so will the words which we have heard
from him sprout in our hearts, and our spirits shall find
shelter under its shade. But he has not gone from us
without sending us a pale-face who shall be our friend
.bn 219.png
.pn +1
and brother in his place. Here you see Old Shatterhand,
a white man who knows all that Kleki-Petrah
knew, and is a stronger warrior than he. He has killed
the grizzly bear with his knife, and all his foes he strikes
to earth with his fist. Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou
were repeatedly in his power, yet he did not slay us, but
gave us our lives, because he loved us, and is a friend of
the red man. Is this true?”
“How!”
“It was Kleki-Petrah’s last word and last wish that
Old Shatterhand should be his successor with the
Apache warriors, and Old Shatterhand has promised to
fulfil this wish. Therefore he shall be received into the
Apache tribe and become a chief. It shall be as though
he were red of skin, and born among us. To accomplish
this he must have smoked the calumet with every grown
warrior of the Apaches; but this shall not be necessary,
for he will drink Winnetou’s blood, and Winnetou will
drink his, and then he will be blood of our blood, and
flesh of our flesh. Do the Apache braves agree to
this?”
“How! how! how!” arose, thrice repeated, the
unanimous response of all present.
“Then let Winnetou and Old Shatterhand come here
to the coffin, and let their blood drop into the water of
the bond of brotherhood.”
I had often read of the blood bond of brotherhood.
It is a custom among many savage and half-civilized
people, and usually consists of the mingling of the blood
of the two making the compact, which is drunk by both,
and in consequence they become more closely united,
.bn 220.png
.pn +1
more truly brothers, than if they had been born of the
same parents.
Winnetou and I were to drink each other’s blood.
We placed ourselves on each side of the coffin, and
Intschu-Tschuna pricked first his son’s wrist, holding it
over the cup which Nscho-Tschi had brought. A tiny
drop of blood fell into it, and the chief set it aside.
Then he repeated the proceeding with me, and a tiny
drop of my blood fell into the other cup. Winnetou
took the cup containing my blood in his hand, and I
received the one with his. Then Intschu-Tschuna said:
“Life dwells in the blood. The souls of these two
young men shall mingle till there is but one soul in
them. Old Shatterhand’s thoughts shall be Winnetou’s
thoughts, and what Winnetou wills that shall also be
the will of Old Shatterhand. Drink!” I raised my
cup as Winnetou raised his. It was Rio Pecos water, to
which the single drop of blood in it imparted no taste.
As we set down the empty cups the chief took my hand
and said: “Thou art now the son of my flesh equally
with Winnetou, and a warrior of our people. The renown
of thy deeds shall be quickly known everywhere,
and no other warrior shall surpass thee. Thou art a
chief of the Apaches, and all branches of our people
shall honor thee as such.”
This was indeed rapid advancement—from a young,
newly graduated collegiate to a chief of the Apaches;
and I could not help fancying the faces of my friends
at home if they could see me now. And yet, strange
and wild as was the life around me, these fine red men
.bn 221.png
.pn +1
were far more congenial to me than many of my former
associates.
How completely the words of Intschu-Tschuna were
fulfilled that Winnetou and I should be but one soul in
two bodies! We grew to understand each other without
a word; we had but to look at each other to know
what we desired and felt, and there was never the slightest
disagreement between us. But I suspect this was
less because we had drunk one another’s blood than
because there was naturally a strong attraction and
sympathy between us; and never again shall I love another
friend as I loved my brave Apache brother, my
true-hearted Winnetou!
As Intschu-Tschuna spoke the last words all the
Apaches had risen, even the children, to shout a loud,
applauding “How!” Then the chief added: “Now is
the new, the living Kleki-Petrah received among us,
and we can lay the dead in his grave. My brothers may
now do this.” This was spoken to the Indians who had
built the tomb. I asked for a few minutes’ delay, and
nodded to Sam Hawkins, Dick Stone, and Will Parker
to come up; with these standing by me I said an Our
Father, a Hail Mary, and a De Profundis over the coffin.
Then was the body of the former atheist and revolutionist,
and at last the penitent and missionary,
lowered into the middle of the tomb, which the Indians
sealed to await the dawn of that new day of which
Intschu-Tschuna had spoken.
This was my first experience of a burial ceremony
among savages, and it deeply impressed me. I was
.bn 222.png
.pn +1
touched by the half perception of truth which appeared
in the chief’s words. Especially was I moved by the
longing for the coming of one who was to deliver them,
which rang in these words,—a longing like that of the
people of Israel as they waited for the Messiahs.
While the grave was closing the Indians’ death-chant
was sung again, and it sank into silence when the last
stone was placed; the Apaches rose from their places,
and the whole great assembly seemed to melt away in the
stillness broken only by the fall of their moccasins, the
rustling of the leaves, and the ripple of the Rio Pecos.
Nscho-Tschi came from among the women and stood at
her father’s right hand, Winnetou’s arm lay across my
shoulders as he stood at his father’s other side, and
Intschu-Tschuna had taken my right hand in his own.
“You are my children, and I am happy in you,” he said.
“I thank the Great Spirit that He has protected me
through danger, and given me a strong, brave, faithful
son, and my other children a brother to protect them
when I am gone.”
“No, Intschu-Tschuna,” I said. “Rather should I
thank Him for the love and kindness I find so far from
home, and among a strange people.”
“They are your people now,” said Nscho-Tschi quickly.
“And we are all happy and blest in one another,” said
Winnetou. “All grateful for the happy ending of a
story begun in sorrow and wrath. Come, my brother;
let us go to the dwelling of our father Intschu-Tschuna.
A new life has begun for us all to-day.”
And so we walked together to the great pueblo, silent
.bn 223.png
.pn +1
and peaceful, though saddened by the solemn ceremony
and parting from one the three Indians had loved so
well.
Winnetou spoke truly: though the story of our meeting
ended here, a new life had indeed begun; and unconscious
of what lay before us we went home together,
turning our backs on what had been, and setting our
faces towards the future.
.sp 4
.nf c
PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
.nf-
.pb
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.it Transcriber’s Notes:
.ul indent=1
.it Missing or obscured punctuation was corrected.
.it Unbalanced quotation marks were left as the author intended.
.it Typographical errors were silently corrected.
.it Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a\
predominant form was found in this book.
.if t
.it Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
.if-
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