Winnetou, the Apache Knight | Page 3

for whom, as
hardworking pioneers, I, a new-comer, had considerable respect until I discovered that
they were men of the lowest moral standards.
Although I had entered the service only for experience, I was in earnest and did my duty
conscientiously; but I soon found out that my colleagues were genuine adventurers, only
after money, and caring nothing for their work except as a means of getting it.
Bancroft was the most dishonest of all. He loved his bottle too well and got private
supplies for it from Santa Fe, and worked harder with the brandy-flask than with his
surveying instruments. Riggs, Marcy, and Wheeler, the three surveyors, emulated
Bancroft in this unprofitable pursuit; and as I never touched a drop of liquor, I naturally
was the laborer, while the rest alternated between drinking and sleeping off the effects.
It goes without saying that under such circumstances our work did not progress rapidly,
and at the end of the glorious autumn and three months of labor we found ourselves with
our task still unaccomplished, while the section with which ours was to connect was
almost completed. Besides our workmen being such as they were, we had to work in a
region infested with Comanches, Kiowas, and Apaches, who objected to a road through
their territory, and we had to be constantly on our guard, which made our progress still
slower.
Personally my lot was not a bed of roses, for the men disliked me, and called me"
tenderfoot" ten times a day, and took a special delight in thwarting my will, especially
Rattler, the leader of our so-called guard, and as big a rascal as ever went unhanged. I
durst not speak to them in an authoritative manner, but had to manage them as a wise
woman manages a tyrannical husband without his perceiving it.

But I had allies in Sam Hawkins and his two companion scouts, Dick Stone and Will
Parker. They were friendly to me, and held off from the others, in whom Sam Hawkins
especially managed to inspire respect in spite of his droll peculiarities. Ihere was an
alliance formed between us silently, which I can best describe as a sort of feudal relation;
he had taken me under his protection like a man who did not need to ask if he were
understood. I was the "tenderfoot," and he the experienced frontiersman whose words and
deeds had to be infallible to me. As often as he had time and opportunity he gave me
practical and theoretical instruction in everything necessary to know and do in the Wild
West; and though I graduated from the high school later, so to speak, with Winnetou as
master, Sam Hawkins was my elementary teacher.
He made me expert with a lasso, and let me practise with that useful weapon on his own
little person and his horse. When I had reached the point of catching them at every throw
he was delighted, and cried out: "Good, my young sir! That's fine. But don't be set up
with this praise. A teacher must encourage his stupid scholars when they make a little
progress. I have taught lots of young frontiersmen, and they all learned much easier and
understood me far quicker than you have, but perhaps it's possible that after eight years or
so you may not be called a tenderfoot. You can comfort yourself with the thought that
sometimes a stupid man gets on as well as or even a little better than a clever one."
He said this as if in sober earnest, and I received it in the same way, knowing well how
differently he meant it. We met at a distance from the camp, where we could not be
observed. Sam Hawkins would have it so; and when I asked why,he said: "For mercy's
sake,hide yourself, sir. You are so awkward that I should be ashamed to have these
fellows see you, so that's why I keep you in the shade - that's the only reason; take it to
heart."
The consequence was that none of the company suspected that I had any skill in weapons,
or special muscular strength - an ignorance that I was glad to foster.
One day I gave Rattler an order; it was some trifling thing, too small for me to remember
now, and he would have been willing to carry it out had not his mood been rather uglier
than usual.
"Do it yourself," he growled. "You impudent greenhorn, I'll show you I'm as good as you
are any day."
"You're drunk," I said, looking him over and turning away.
"I'm drunk, am I?" he replied, glad of a chance to get at me, whom he hated.
"Very drunk, or I'd knock you down," I answered.
Rattler was a big, brawny fellow,