“Uff! uff! uff!” echoed all around, and every one ran over to see where he had been wounded. I also went over, the Indians respectfully making way for me.
“In both knees, in both knees!” I heard on all sides.
Tangua lay moaning on the ground as I came up; Winnetou knelt by him examining the wound. He saw me coming, and said: “The shot has gone just where my white brother said it should; it has broken both knees. Tangua can never again ride out to cast his eyes on the horses of another tribe.”
When the wounded man saw me he began another torrent of abuse, but I compelled him to be silent a moment, and said: “I warned you, and you would not heed the warning; you alone are to blame.”
He dared not complain of the pain, for under no circumstances may an Indian do this; he bit his lip, looked sullenly around, and growled: “I am wounded, and cannot go home; I must stay with the Apaches.”
Winnetou shook his head, and answered decidedly: “You will go home, for we have no room for the thief of our horses and the murderer of our braves. We have not avenged ourselves with blood, but have accepted ransom in beasts and goods; more you cannot expect. No Kiowa belongs in our pueblo.”
“Old Shatterhand was much more severely wounded than you are, and could not ride, yet he had to come with us. Think of him often; it will be good for you. The Kiowas must leave here to-day, and those of them that we find in our domains to-morrow we will treat as they wished Old Shatterhand to be treated. I have spoken. How!”
He took me by the hand and led me away, and I knew, though he said nothing, that he was pleased with the result of this last adventure and the punishment of his treacherous foe.
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WINNETOU and I walked a little distance away from the Indians who were still assembling to see Rattler’s torture. When we had gone beyond their hearing, Winnetou asked me gravely why I had left the pueblo.
“We came back because we heard that Rattler was soon to die; is that so?” I asked.
“He lies in the cart beside the body of his victim.”
“I was told that he was to be tortured, and I cannot look upon such a death.”
“Therefore my father, Intschu-Tschuna, took you back to the pueblo. Why did you not stay there? Why do you want to see something you cannot look upon?”