“But then there’d be bloodshed, which we want to avoid.”
“Yes, but here in the West a drop of blood doesn’t count. Don’t worry; the Apaches are sure to wait, for they know that if awake we’d defend ourselves, and though we’d get the worst of it, still some of them would be sure to get killed, and they value their blood as highly as we do ours. Therefore they’ll wait till we lie down to sleep; then we’ll let the fire go out, and go over to the island.”
Now that we were on the scene of action, and the hour was so near, I was greatly perturbed in mind. I was not afraid, but I was anxious, apprehensive of the result, and worried as to the fate of Winnetou, of whom I had thought so much during the past few days that he had grown near and dear to me, although he was still my enemy; and it must have been a kind of mental telepathy, for I learned later that he had been thinking continuously of me. Since the encounter could not be avoided, I wished it might come soon and be over with; and this wish was to be fulfilled.
It was a little short of mid-day when we saw Sam Hawkins returning. The little man was weary, but his eyes gleamed with unusual fire.
“All’s well?” I asked. “But I see it is, dear old Sam.”
“Do you?” he laughed. “Where is it written, on my nose or in your imagination?”
“No one who sees your eyes can doubt it.”
“So my eyes betray me; that’s good to know for another time. But you’re right; everything is really better than I could have hoped.”
“Have you seen the spies?”
“Seen the spies! I’ve not only seen ’em, but I’ve seen the whole band; and not only seen ’em, but heard and watched ’em.”