“I assure you I have no such idea. It’s he or I, and I’ll do my best that it shan’t be I. There shall not be an ounce of relenting, I promise you. I’ll save the lives of all the Apaches, and my own, at the price of his, if I can. It’s life or death, as you say, my dear Sam, and I mean to live; don’t fret. Say a prayer for me, if you remember how, and I know you do; and I think God will bless a fight for such a good cause. Hush; here they come.”
CHAPTER XII.
A DUEL, AND CAPTURE BY THE APACHES.
The Indians came slowly towards us; not all, but a large number of them, for Tangua had left a portion of them to guard the Apaches. On reaching the spot a hollow square was formed, of which three sides were filled in by Kiowas, our men occupying the fourth side.
The chief then gave a signal, and from the ranks of the Indians strode a warrior whose proportions were absolutely gigantic. Laying aside all his weapons except his knife, he stripped off his clothing to his waist. No one could look upon his knotted muscles and not be anxious for me. The chief led him into the middle of the square, and announced to us in a voice ringing with the certainty of triumph: “Here stands Metan-Akva [Lightning Knife], the strongest warrior of the Kiowas, whose knife no man has withstood; his enemy dies beneath his blows as though struck by lightning. He will fight Old Shatterhand, the pale-face.”
“Lord help us!” whispered Sam to me; “he’s a real Goliath. My dear boy, it’s all up with you.”
“Nonsense!”
“Don’t forget there’s only one way to conquer this fellow, and that is to make the fight a short one. Let the end be quick, for he can tire you out, and then you’re lost. How’s your pulse?”
He put his fingers on my wrist, counted, and then said: “Thank God, not more than sixty beats, and perfectly regular. You’re not excited? Aren’t you a bit afraid?”
“It wouldn’t do to be upset or afraid in a case that depends on calm blood and eye. The chief has selected this giant because he is invincible, and we’ll see whether he really is so or not.”