Intschu-Tschuna spoke again: “We will unbind Old Shatterhand, and he shall go into 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 Hawkins can go through the water like a trout. But you! Consider, my dear young friend, that not only your life but our lives hang on this; if you fail I can never speak another word to you.”
“Don’t worry, my dear Sam; I’ll do what I can. I don’t think for a moment the Indians have any underhand reason for choosing me. I am sure, too, I can save you more easily than you could have saved us.”
“Well, I hope so. And it’s for life or death. You mustn’t spare Intschu-Tschuna; never think of doing that.”
“We’ll see.”
“That’s no answer; there’s nothing to see. If you spare him, you’re lost, and we with you. These redskins can throw a tomahawk a hundred feet away and cut off your fingers. You’ll get it in the back or head before you can get over, no matter how well you swim.”
“I know, my dear Sam, and I know, too, that a thimbleful of wit is worth more than a barrel-full of mere strength.”
“Wit! What good is that against a well-aimed tomahawk?”