“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.