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 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 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 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 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 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 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.”

“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 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 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 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.

“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 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 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.”