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, 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 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 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 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?”

“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.”

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!

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 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 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 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 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.”

“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 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?