He shook his head slowly. “What kind of men are you Christians? Either you are bad, and then your wickedness is so great that no one can understand it, or else you are good, and then your goodness is equally incomprehensible.”
He and his son looked at each other, and spoke together privately, but only for a moment. Then Intschu-Tschuna turned back to me and said: “This murderer was your enemy also?”
“Yes.”
“And you have forgiven him?”
“Yes.”
“Then hear me. We will see if there is the least, tiniest spark of goodness in him. Should we find one, we will try to do as you wish without disgracing you. Sit here and wait. If I give you a signal, come over to the murderer, and tell him to ask your pardon. If he does this, he shall die quickly.”
“And may I tell him so?”
“Yes.”
Intschu-Tschuna went back with Winnetou to the circle of braves, and we sat down where we were.
“I never dreamed that the chief would listen to you,” said Sam Hawkins. “You must stand well with him.”