This was indeed rapid advancement—from a young, newly graduated collegiate to a chief of the Apaches; and I could not help fancying the faces of my friends at home if they could see me now. And yet, strange and wild as was the life around me, these fine red men were far more congenial to me than many of my former associates.
How completely the words of Intschu-Tschuna were fulfilled that Winnetou and I should be but one soul in two bodies! We grew to understand each other without a word; we had but to look at each other to know what we desired and felt, and there was never the slightest disagreement between us. But I suspect this was less because we had drunk one another’s blood than because there was naturally a strong attraction and sympathy between us; and never again shall I love another friend as I loved my brave Apache brother, my true-hearted Winnetou!
As Intschu-Tschuna spoke the last words all the Apaches had risen, even the children, to shout a loud, applauding “How!” Then the chief added: “Now is the new, the living Kleki-Petrah received among us, and we can lay the dead in his grave. My brothers may now do this.” This was spoken to the Indians who had built the tomb. I asked for a few minutes’ delay, and nodded to Sam Hawkins, Dick Stone, and Will Parker to come up; with these standing by me I said an _Our Father_, a _Hail Mary_, and a _De Profundis_ over the coffin. Then was the body of the former atheist and revolutionist, and at last the penitent and missionary, lowered into the middle of the tomb, which the Indians sealed to await the dawn of that new day of which Intschu-Tschuna had spoken.
This was my first experience of a burial ceremony among savages, and it deeply impressed me. I was touched by the half perception of truth which appeared in the chief’s words. Especially was I moved by the longing for the coming of one who was to deliver them, which rang in these words,—a longing like that of the people of Israel as they waited for the Messiahs.
While the grave was closing the Indians’ death-chant was sung again, and it sank into silence when the last stone was placed; the Apaches rose from their places, and the whole great assembly seemed to melt away in the stillness broken only by the fall of their moccasins, the rustling of the leaves, and the ripple of the Rio Pecos. Nscho-Tschi came from among the women and stood at her father’s right hand, Winnetou’s arm lay across my shoulders as he stood at his father’s other side, and Intschu-Tschuna had taken my right hand in his own. “You are my children, and I am happy in you,” he said. “I thank the Great Spirit that He has protected me through danger, and given me a strong, brave, faithful son, and my other children a brother to protect them when I am gone.”