“I cannot be guided by what he has done; I must fulfil my duty without regard to other men’s shortcomings. I beg of you, modify your decision, and let this man die a speedy death.”
“What has been determined upon must be carried out.”
“And is there no way to fulfil my request?”
Winnetou’s eyes sought the ground; he thought earnestly for a while, then said: “There is a way, but before I tell my white brother what it is I must beg him not to use it, for it would disgrace him sorely in the eyes of our warriors.”
“How would it? Is it a dishonorable action?”
“In the eyes of a red man it is. You would have to appeal to our gratitude.”
“Oh, no decent man would do that.”
“No. We owe you our lives. If you appeal to that fact you could force my father and me to do your will. We would hold a new council, and during it we would speak of you in such a way that our warriors must acknowledge our debt to you and grant your desire. But henceforth everything you have done for us would be valueless. Is this Rattler worth such a sacrifice?”
“Certainly not.”
“My brother sees that I speak frankly to him. I know the thoughts and feelings in his heart, but my braves would never grasp them. A man who appealed to gratitude would be contemptible to them. Shall Old Shatterhand, who can become the greatest and most renowned warrior of the Apaches, be driven away from us to-day because our braves despise him?”