“Well, all right. We’d better go on a few steps and be first, or some Kiowa will get ahead of us. Come.”
We posted ourselves a little in advance, and awaited in greatest suspense the war-cry of the Apaches. It is customary for an Indian leader to give the signal for an onslaught by a cry in which the rest join like demons. This is intended to deprive the victim of all courage, and is well adapted to its end. The best idea one can get of it is by uttering a long-drawn-out H-i-i-i-i-i-h at the top of his voice, at the same time striking the mouth repeatedly with the hand to break the sound into waves.
The Kiowas were at as high a tension as we were; each of them wanted to be first, and pushed us forward further and further till we were too near the Apaches for comfort, and I wished very heartily the onslaught might come.
At last it did come. The H-i-i-i-i-i-h arose in such a tone as to go through my very marrow, followed by a howl as dreadful as if a thousand devils had broken loose. We heard quick steps and springs over the soft earth. Suddenly all was still; for a moment we could almost have heard an ant crawl. Then we heard Intschu-Tschuna speak the short word: “Ko.” This means “fire,” or “make a fire.” The ashes of our fire were still smouldering, and as the Apaches obeyed him and threw the dry wood on them, it kindled at once, and the flames leaped up anew, lighting the entire camp.
Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou stood side by side, and a circle of braves gathered around them as the Apaches saw to their amazement that we were gone. “Uff! uff!” they grunted in astonishment. Winnetou then showed that presence of mind which later so often excited my wonder. He saw that we could not be far off, and that they, standing in the full light of the fire, made a fine mark for our guns; therefore he cried: “Tatischa! tatischa!” which means: “Be off!”
He had turned to spring away, when I stood before him, and for a moment we looked each other in the face. Quick as lightning his hand was at his knife, but before he could draw it I struck him in the temple. He staggered and fell to the ground, and I saw that Sam, Will, and Dick had overpowered his father. The Apaches howled in rage, but their cry was hardly audible, for it was drowned by the horrible din of the Kiowas, who now sprang upon them. As I had broken through the Apache circle, I stood in the midst of a fighting, howling tangle of men, struggling together. There were two hundred Kiowas against fifty Apaches, four to one, yet these brave warriors defended themselves with all their strength. I had all I could do to protect myself, and had to take a hand in the fight, since I was in the midst of it; but I used my fists only, as I had no desire to harm any one. After I had knocked down four or five, and had space to breathe in, I saw the struggle was becoming feebler, and five minutes after it began the whole thing was over.
Only five minutes; but under such circumstances five minutes seem a long time. Intschu-Tschuna lay on the ground, and Winnetou beside him, both bound. Not an Apache had escaped, for none of the brave fellows had once thought of deserting his chief and making off through the darkness. Many of them were wounded, as were some of the Kiowas, of whom three were killed and five Apaches, which was exactly what we had hoped to avoid, but they had made such fierce resistance that the Kiowas had drawn their knives. The besieging party was all bound, and now came the question of disposing of the prisoners. I wanted to make it as easy for them as possible, but Tangua, the Kiowa chief, said imperatively: “These dogs are ours, not yours, and I will decide what is to be done with them. I would take them to our village, but we don’t want to be long on the way, for their people might overtake us, and we have far to go. We will put them to death by torture here.”
“I think you make a mistake,” I remarked.
“How?”
“In saying they belong to you. That is false.”