Winnetou, the Apache Knight | Page 2

scout, Sam Hawkins, to sup
with me, in order that I might make his acquaintance before starting in the morning.
I do not know whether the Wild West Show was unconsciously in my mind, but when Mr.
Hawkins appeared at the appointed time I certainly felt disappointed to see him clad in
ordinary clothes and not in the picturesque costume of Buffalo Bill, till I reflected that in
St. Louis even a famous Indian scout might condescend to look like every-day mortals.

"So you're the young tenderfoot; glad to make your acquaintance, sir," he said, and held
out his hand, smiling at me from an extraordinary face covered with a bushy beard of
many moons' growth and shadowed by a large nose a trifle awry, above which twinkled a
pair of sharp little eyes.
My guest surprised me not a little, after I had responded to his greeting, by hanging his
hat on the gas-fixture, and following it with his hair.
"Don't be shocked," he said calmly, seeing, I suppose, that this was unexpected. "You
will excuse me, I hope, for the Pawnees have taken my natural locks. It was a mighty
queer feeling, but fortunately I was able to stand it. I went to Tacoma and bought myself
a new scalp, and it cost me a roll of good dollars. It doesn't matter; the new hair is more
convenient than the old, especially on a warm day, for I never could hang my own wig up
like that."
He had a way of laughing inwardly, and his shoulders shook as he spoke, though he made
no sound.
"Can you shoot?" asked my queer companion suddenly.
"Fairly," I said, not so much, I am afraid, because I was modest as because I wanted to
have the fun of letting him find out that I was a crack marksman.
"And ride?"
"If I have to."
"If you have to! Not as well as you shoot, then?"
"Pshaw! what is riding? The mounting is all that is hard; you can hang on somehow if
once you're up."
He looked at me to see whether I was joking or in earnest; but I looked innocent, so he
said: "There's where you make a mistake. What you should have said is that mounting is
hard because you have to do that yourself, while the horse attends to your getting off
again."
"The horse won't see to it in my case," I said with confidence- born of the fact that my
kind uncle had accustomed me to clinging to high-strung beasts before I had lost my
milk-teeth.
"A kicking broncho is something to try the nettle of a tenderfoot," remarked Hawkins
dryly.
I suppose you know what a tenderfoot is. He is one who speaks good English, and wears
gloves as if he were used to them. He also has a prejudice in favor of nice handkerchiefs
and well-kept finger-nails; he may know a good deal about history, but he is liable to
mistake turkey-tracks for bear-prints, and, though he has learned astronomy, he could

never find his way by the stars. The tenderfoot sticks his bowie-knife into his belt in such
a manner that it runs into his thigh when he bends; and when he builds a fire on the
prairie he makes it so big that it flames as high as a tree, yet feels surprised that the
Indians notice it. But many a tenderfoot is a daring, strong-bodied and strong-hearted
fellow; and though there was no doubt that I was a tenderfoot fast enough, I hoped to
convince Sam Hawkins that I had some qualities requisite for success on the plains.
By the time our supper was over there was a very good understanding established
between me and the queer little man to whose faithful love I was to owe so much. He was
an eccentric fellow, with a pretence of crustiness covering his big, true heart; but it was
not hard to read him by the law of contraries, and our mutual liking dated from that night
of meeting.
We set out in the early dawn of the following morning, accompanied by the other two
scouts, Dick Stone and Will Parker, whom I then saw for the first time, and whom I
learned to value only less than Sam as the truest of good comrades. Our journey was as
direct and speedy as we could make it to the mountain region of New Mexico, near the
Apache Indian reservation, and I was welcomed by my fellow-workers with a cordiality
that gave rise to hopes of pleasant relations with them which were never realised. The
party consisted of the head engineer, Bancroft, and three men under him. With them were
twelve men intended to serve as our protectors, a sort of standing army, and