_A SWIM FOR FREEDOM._
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 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?”
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 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 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 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 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 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.”
“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 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 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.”
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.
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