_THE CAPTURE OF WINNETOU._
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 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
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, 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.”
“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 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.”
“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 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 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 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 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?”
“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. 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 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.
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