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.”