“I really believe you are sorry for this man. I can understand your interceding for a quick death for him, but I certainly can’t understand your pity for him.”
The coffin was now raised so that Rattler was placed on his feet, and he was bound fast by strong ropes to the stone wall of the tomb. The Indians, men, women, and children drew near to the place, and made a half-circle around it. Profound, expectant silence reigned. Intschu-Tschuna stood before the coffin and spoke. “The Apache braves are gathered here because their people have suffered a great loss, and he who has caused it must pay for it with his life,” he said. He then spoke in the figurative Indian manner of Kleki-Petrah, telling them of his character and work, and the way in which he had met his death, and concluded by announcing that it had been decided that Rattler was now to be tortured, bound as he then was to the coffin, and should be buried with his victim. Turning to me at this point, he gave me the expected signal, and we went forward and were admitted into the circle. I had been too far away before to see Rattler clearly, but now as I stood before him, wicked and godless as he was, I felt the most profound pity for the wretch. The coffin was twice the width of a man’s body and over eight feet long. Rattler was fastened with his back to it, his arms behind him, and his feet stretched apart. He showed that he had suffered from hunger and thirst. A gag was in his mouth, and he could not speak; his head, too, was fastened so that he could not move it. As I came up, Intschu-Tschuna took the gag out of his mouth, and said:
“My white brother wished to speak to this murderer; now he may do so.”
Rattler could see that I was free and must be on good terms with the Indians. I thought, therefore, that he would ask me to speak a good word for him; but, instead of this, as soon as the gag was removed he said to me bitterly: “What do you want of me? Get out of here! I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“You have heard that you were doomed to die, Rattler,” I said gently. “There is no way out of that; die you must, but—”
“Get out, you dog, get out!” he shrieked, trying to spit upon me, but failing because he could not move his head.
“You must die,” I continued unmoved, “but how depends upon yourself. You are to be tortured; that means long, long agony, through all this day, and perhaps to-morrow. It is horrible to think of, and I want you to escape it. At my request Intschu-Tschuna has declared that you shall die quickly if you will fulfil the condition he has made.”
I waited for him to ask me what the condition was, but instead of doing so he poured out a storm of abuse upon me which could not be repeated. As soon as I could speak I said: “The condition is that you ask my pardon.”
“Your pardon! I’d bite my tongue out first, and suffer all the tortures this red beast can give me.”
“Remember, I did not make the condition, Rattler; it was Intschu-Tschuna who decided thus, for I don’t care about your apology. Consider what awful agony lies before you, and that you can escape it all by saying the little word ‘Pardon.’”