“He deserves it.”
“And can you look at it?”
“Yes.”
“You, a maiden!”
She dropped her long lashes, and then raised her eyes to mine. “Your women are not more tender-hearted than we. They do cruel things only for their own pleasure, kill little birds for their feathers, and are not always gentle; Kleki-Petrah has told me of them. Our ways are not your ways, but a woman’s heart is everywhere the same, whatever the color of her skin. The white men have not taught the Indian kindness, truth, or justice. I can look on the punishment of a man who, in murdering Kleki-Petrah, has given us pain greater than his. But I ask you not to come to see Rattler tortured, for Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou will not be pleased if they see you coming with me.”
“I will go with you none the less, and they will pardon it,” I said.
We descended the ladder again, and met Winnetou when we had gone but a short distance. I had completely forgotten Tangua until that moment when I saw him standing near, and there was no mistaking how angry he was.
I went up to him, and looking him steadily in the face demanded: “Is Tangua, the Kiowa chief, a liar, or does he love truth?”
“Would you insult me?” he shrieked.
“No; I only want to know. Answer me.”