Winnetou, the Apache Knight | Page 7

for me, his moment of hesitation had given me time to reload, and therefore I
was ready for him by the time the beast had made thirty paces towards me. He could no
longer run; his steps became slow, but with deep-hanging head and protruding, bloodshot
eyes he came nearer and nearer to me, like some awful, unavoidable fate. I knelt down
and brought my gun into position. This movement made the buffalo halt and raise his
head a little to see me better, thus bringing his eyes just in range of both barrels. I sent
one shot into the right, another into the left eye; a quick shudder went through his body,
and the beast fell dead.
Springing to my feet, I rushed toward Sam; but it was not necessary, for I saw him
approaching.
"Hallo!" I cried, "are you alive?"
"Very much so, only my left hip pains me, or the right; I'm sure I can't tell which."
"And your horse?"
"Done for; he's still alive, but he's torn past help. We'll have to shoot him to put him out

of his misery, poor fellow. Is the buffalo dead?"
I was not able to answer this question positively, so we made sure that there was no life
in my former foe, and Hawkins said: "He treated me pretty badly, this old brute; a cow
would have been gentler, but I suppose you can't expect such an old soldier to be
lady-like. Let us go to my poor horse."
We found him in a pitiable condition, torn so that his entrails protruded, and groaning
with agony. Sam loaded, and gave the poor creature the shot that ended his suffering, and
then he removed the saddle and bridle, saying: "I'll be my own horse, and put these on my
back."
"Where will you get another horse?" I asked.
"That's the least of my troubles; I'll find one unless I'm mistaken."
"A mustang?"
"Yes. The buffaloes are here; they've begun travelling southward, and soon we'll see the
mustangs, I'm sure of that."
"May I go with you when you catch one?"
"Sure; you'll have to learn to do it. I wonder if that old bull is dead; such Mathusalas are
wonderfully tough."
But the beast was dead, as we found on investigation; and as he lay there I realized more
fully what a monster he was. Sam looked him over, shook his head, and said: "It is
perfectly incredible. Do you know what you are?"
"What?"
"The most reckless man on earth."
"I've never been accused of recklessness before."
"Well, now you know that 'reckless' is the word for you. I forbade you meddling with a
buffalo or leaving your hiding-place; but if you were going to disobey me, why didn't you
shoot a cow?"
"Because this was more knightly."
"Knightly! Great Scott! This tenderfoot wants to play knight!" He laughed till he had to
take hold of the bushes for support, and when he got his breath he cried: "The true
frontiersman does what is most expedient, not what's most knightly."
"And I did that, too."
"How do you make that out?"

"That big bull has much more flesh on him than a cow."
Sam looked at me mockingly. "Much more flesh!" he cried." And this youngster shot a
bull for his flesh! Why, boy, this old stager had surely eighteen or twenty years on his
head, and hiS flesh is as hard as leather, while the cow's flesh is fine and tender. All this
shows again what a greenhorn you are. Now go get your horse, and we'll load him with
all the meat he can carry."
In spite of Sam's mocking me, that night as I stood unobserved in the door of the tent
where he and Stone and Parker sat by their fire I heard Sam say: "Yes, sir, he's going to
be a genuine Westerner; he's born one. And how strong he is! Yesterday he drew our
great oxcart alone and single-handed. Now to-day I owe him my life. But we won't let
him know what we think of him."
"Why not?" asked Barker.
"It might swell his head," replied Sam. "Many a good fellow has been spoiled by praise. I
suppose he'll think I'm an ungrateful old curmudgeon, for I never even thanked him for
saving my life. But to-morrow I'll give him a treat; I'll take him to catch a mustang, and,
no matter what he thinks, I know how to value him."
I crept away, pleased with what I had heard, and touched by the loving tone of my queer
friend's voice as he spoke of me.

CHAPTER III.
WILD MUSTANGS AND LONG-EARED NANCY.
THE next morning as I was going to work Sam came to me, saying: "Put down your
instruments; we have