Winnetou, the Apache Knight by Karl Friedrich May (chrysanthemum read aloud .TXT) 📖

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 railread thorough 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 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 palefaces? 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 false? “

“It is true.”

“And you led the palefaces 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 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 palefaces 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 courage is what Indians most respect, and their 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, 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 tongued,” 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 Shatterhaud 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 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 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 palefaces 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 paleface 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.”

“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 paleface. 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 info 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 him that Sam