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Winetou Vol 11111111
Winetou Vol 11111111
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Cover image
The Greenhorns First Grizzly: Marlies Bugmann
Cover photography: David Irwin
Edited to international English standard:
Marlies Bugmann
Australian Friends of Karl May;
English Karl May books:
http://www.karl-may-friends.net
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in
any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now
known or hereafter invented, is prohibited without the
written permission of the author/translator.
Publishing Date: August, 2008
Copyright 2008 Marlies Bugmann
Winnetou I
Translated by
Marlies Bugmann
From volume 1 of the famous Winnetou Trilogy
Published first in 1893
by Karl May (1842-1912)
A story of the Wild West
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Marlies Bugmann
2008
Contents
Acknowledgments
Foreword by Translator
Introduction by Karl May
Chapter 1: A Greenhorn
Chapter 2: Klekih-Petra
Chapter 3: Winnetou Captured
Chapter 4: Two Life-Or-Death Battles
Chapter 5: Nsho-Chi
Chapter 6: Sams Rescue
Translators Biography
More Karl May Translations
Other Books
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Acknowledgments
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Thank you to my husband, David Irwin, for his time
to read the draft translations and his valuable feedback, and
for his assistance with just the right word when a tricky twist
in the plot required it.
Thankyou to Karl May for giving us Winnetou, Old
Shatterhand and friends.
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Translators Foreword
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In 1893 the Winnetou trilogy appeared for the first time.
In contrast to other book series, for which the greatest part
was based on complete stories previously published in
sequel form, May had only a limited volume of existing
text to utilise for this trilogy. Winnetou I is the only one of
the three volumes that May wrote especially for the trilogy.
Volumes two and three are compiled from four previously
published separate stories, for which May also wrote a new
framework and ending chapters.
The colourful characters of Mr Henry the gunsmith, Sam
Hawkens the Westerner, Klekih-Petra the fugitive from
Germany, Tangua the treacherous Kiowa chief, and above all
Winnetou the young Apache warrior, his sister Nsho-Chi,
and their father, supreme chief of all Apache, Inshu-Chuna,
make the first volume of the Winnetou trilogy an
unforgettable adventure.
The three books, known as the Winnetou trilogy,
Winnetou I, Winnetou II and Winnetou III, are undoubtedly
Mays most famous work.
Although Hatatitla (Old Shatterhands horse) and
Iltshi (Winnetous horse)two black Indian horses,
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are who only moved enough to keep afloat and not drift too
far, which would indicate that the swimmers are in
relatively still water, otherwise they would be swept
downriver.
The canoe is very close to them yet it is moving along
with the strong flow of the river, while the swimmers are
stationary in relatively calm water (as indicated by their
minimal and noiseless movements to stay afloat). The
scene is becoming confusing, is it taking place in a strong
current or still water? If the swimmers are in still water and
the canoe in fast-flowing water, the canoe wouldnt be
close but would travel past them at a certain distance and
far too quickly for anyone to successfully execute any of
the actions that followespecially in a dense fog with
restricted visibility, as indicated.
The man in the canoe stopped the canoe in order to take
his weapon and attempt to shoot the swimmers. He might be
able to do that in still water, but most likely not in a strong
flow as he would, firstly, lose some control over his
canoe, and, secondly, not be steady enough to aim his
gun effectively. As the plot evolves, the canoe remains
where it stopped for a few more moments, and after a tense
moment or two, the man in the canoe takes the paddle into
his hands and sets the canoe going again, and the water turns
into a torrent to take him away and out of reach. The
swimmers continue to cross the river and arrive at the island
without having drifted off course.
Alas, every river has shallow and deep, still and fastflowing water, and sometimes very close together.
However, the confusion between the still and the fastflowing water within the narration of the scene points to a
small personal limitation in Karl Mays life: he couldnt
swim, or at least not enough to have ever swum across a
torrent of a river. The scene is described as if it unfolds on
solid groundand has been adjusted very slightly, with very
few words, so as not to ruin the tense moment.
***
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Winnetou I
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Introduction
By Karl May (1893)
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When I think of the American Indians, I am immediately
reminded of the Turkish people; although this might seem
peculiar, it, nevertheless, has its justification. There might
not be many points of resemblance between the Red Indian
and the Turk, however, they have one thing in common
with only a minor differentiationthe global community has
given up on them: they talk of the Turk as an ailing man,
while anyone who knows the plight of the Red Indian, must
describe him as the dying man.
Yes, the Red Nation lies dying! From Tierra del Fuego to
far above the Great Lakes of North America, the giant patient
lies prostrate, struck down by a bitter fate that knows no
mercy. He resisted with all his might, but in vain; his
strength gradually failed; now he breathes his last sighs and
the convulsions that seize his naked body time and again
proclaim the approach of death.
Is he to blame for his early demise? Has he deserved it?
If it is correct that every living thing is entitled to life,
and if that applies to the whole as well as to each individual,
then the Red Indians rightful claim to existence is no less
valid than that of the white man, and he is entitled to develop
according to his own individuality within a social and
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A Greenhorn
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Dear reader, do you know what the word greenhorn
means? Its an annoying and disrespectful term for the one to
whom it is applied. Greenhorn in this instance means to be a
new arrival who is still inexperienced in the basic skills
required in a new environment, and who has to carefully
probe his surroundings to avoid ridicule.
A greenhorn is someone who wont get up out of his
chair when a lady indicates that she wishes to sit there; who
greets the master of the house before he bows to the wife and
daughters; who loads his weapon back to front, first the
wadding, then the bullet and the powder last. A greenhorn
either speaks no English at all or a clean and affected
version; he loathes Yankee-English or the backwoods idiom;
it makes no sense to him, nor will it readily roll over his
tongue. A greenhorn mistakes a racoon for an opossum and a
pretty Mulatto girl for a Quadroon. A greenhorn smokes
cigarettes and is disgusted at the tobacco-chewing and
spitting gentleman. If an Irish Paddy boxes his ears, a
greenhorn takes the affair to court instead of returning the
punch or shooting the fellow immediately. A greenhorn takes
the footprints of a turkey for those of a bear and a slim racing
yacht for a Mississippi steamer. A greenhorn is too shy to put
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his feet with dirty boots onto the knees of his fellow
passengers and slurp his soup amid snorts that resemble
those of a dying buffalo. For reasons of cleanliness, a
greenhorn takes with him a bath sponge the size of a giant
pumpkin and ten pounds of soap into the prairie, and a
compass that will indicate all sorts of directions except north
after a couple of days. A greenhorn writes down eight
hundred Indian expressions and when he meets his first red
man realizes he put the list into an envelope, posted it home
and, instead, kept the letter. A greenhorn buys gunpowder
and when he tries to fire the first shot, finds that he has been
sold powdered charcoal instead. A greenhorn has studied
astronomy for the past ten years but no matter how long he
stares at the starry sky, he cannot determine what time it is.
A greenhorn puts his Bowie knife into the belt so that, when
he bends over, the blade will cut into his thigh. A greenhorn
builds such a large campfire in the Wild West that the flames
rise as tall as the trees and then wonders how the Indians
were able to find him when they shoot him dead. A
greenhorn iswell, a greenhornand I was such a
greenhorn, too, all those years ago.
But, of course, I had no idea that this derogatory term
applied to me! Oh, no, because a greenhorns most peculiar
trait is to think of everyone else as green, except himself.
On the contrary, I thought that I was an extraordinarily
smart and experienced person; I had received an education,
as the saying goes, and had never feared an exam! My
youthful mind didnt allow me to recognize that life is the
real school where pupils are tested daily and hourly to pass
the exam of providence. Unfortunate circumstances in my
home country and an inborn thirst for action had driven me
across the ocean to the United States where the conditions
and opportunities for the development of an ambitious young
man were much more favourable. I would soon have found a
good income in the Eastern states, but I felt drawn to the
West. Working here and there in all kinds of jobs, I had soon
saved enough money, and then arrived in St. Louis well
equipped externally and full of inner courage. There, my luck
led me to a German family where I found accommodation
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Right here with me, Ill have you know! Ive been
meaning to ask you something for quite some time.
Why havent you done so?
Because I didnt feel like it, alright?
And when will you feel like asking?
Perhaps today.
Then go ahead and ask, I encouraged him and squarely
sat on top of his workbench where he was working.
He looked me full in the face, shook his head
disapprovingly and exclaimed:
Go ahead! As if I needed to ask a greenhorns
permission to talk to him!
Greenhorn? I frowned and felt deeply hurt. I assume
the word slipped out unintentionally, Mr Henry!
Dont flatter yourself, sir! I said it deliberately; youre a
greenhorn, second to none! You memorized the content of
your books, thats true. Im astounded about the things you
people have to learn over there. A young person like you
knows precisely how far away the stars are, what King
Nebuchadnezzar wrote on clay tablets and how heavy the air
is that he cant even see! And because he knows all this, he
imagines hes a clever fellow! But poke your nose into real
life for around fifty years, and then perhaps youll experience
what genuine cleverness is made of! Your present knowledge
is worth nothingnothing at all. And your practical skills
count for even less. You cant even shoot!
He had spoken in a disparaging tone of voice, and with
such conviction, he sounded altogether sure of himself.
Cant shoot? Hm! I smiled. Is that perhaps the
question you wanted to ask me?
Yes, thats the one. Whats your answer to that?
Put a good firearm in my hand, and then Ill tell you, but
not before.
He put the rifle barrel he was working on aside, rose,
walked up close to me, stared at me and retorted:
A firearm in your hand, sir? Wouldnt think of it, ever!
My guns are only meant for hands that do me proud!
Ive got hands like that, I nodded.
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No.
Least of all in the Wild West?
No.
A complete greenhorn. And yet you pipe up as if you
were the great grand father of all Indians and have lived here
for thousands of years already! Boy, dont imagine that
youre capable of getting under my skin! And even if things
were as you said, to build a gun factory is the furthest thing
from my mind. Im a loner and wish to remain a loner; I
dont feel like bothering with a hundred or more workers.
Couldnt you sell the patent for your invention to make
money?
Lets wait and see, sir! Thus far Ive always had enough
to live on and I dont think that I will suffer in the future,
either, even without a patent. And now go home for today! I
dont have the patience for listening to a fledgling who has to
learn the use of his wings first before he can whistle or sing.
It didnt occur to me to take offence at his rough
expressions; thats how he was and I knew that he meant
well. He had grown fond of me and certainly intended to
help me along in every way, as far as it was possible for him.
We shook hands and when he released mine from his
stronger-than-usual grip, I left.
Little did I know how important that evening had been
for me, and what important roles the heavy bear killer, which
Henry called an old gun, and the unfinished firearm that was
to become the Henry rifle, would play in my later life. But I
was looking forward to the next morning because I had really
practiced my shooting skills a lot and was convinced that, in
the eyes of my old, peculiar friend, I would look good as a
marksman.
I turned up at his place at six oclock sharp. He was
already waiting for me, shook my hand and with an ironic
smile on his kind old face he said:
Welcome, sir! Arent you just wearing a victorious
expression on your face? Do you think you can hit that brick
wall I mentioned yesterday?
I hope so.
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Id love to.
Then come! Its only seven oclock and youve still got
an hour. Well go to Jim Korner, the horse trader. He lets
you ride his horses around the yard for a few dollars, and
hes got a roan thats got you pegged.
We returned to the town and visited the horse traders
stables where a corral, surrounded by stables doubled as a
kind of exercise yard. Korner greeted us and enquired about
our business.
The young man here claims that no horse can throw
him, Henry replied. What do you think about it Mr
Korner? Wont you let him climb onto your roan just the
once?
The trader looked me up and down, nodded with a
satisfied expression and replied:
His bones seem strong and subtle; besides, young people
dont break their necks as easily as older ones. If the
gentleman wishes to try out the roan, its alright with me.
He gave the order and after a short while two stable
hands led the saddled horse out of the barn. It was very
agitated and strained to tear loose. My old Henry had second
thoughts and became worried about me; he asked me to
reconsider; but, firstly, I wasnt afraid, and, secondly, the
affair had turned into a matter of honour. I asked for a quirt,
a kind of short whip, and had the spurs strapped to my boots.
Then, I swung into the saddle, although only after a few
failed attempts because of the horses refusals. As soon as I
sat atop, the stable hands hurried away and the roan went
straight up in the air with all four, and then to the side. I
remained in the saddle, although my feet were still outside
the stirrups. I quickly got them in. As soon as that was done
the nag started to buck; when that didnt have the desired
results it headed for the wall to scrape me off; but with the
aid of the quirt I quickly managed to get it away from the
boards. Then began a fierce, almost dangerous battle
between rider and horse. I used all the scarce talent and
insufficient training I had, and my strong thighs finally won
the battle for me. When I dismounted, my legs shook from
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the strain; but the horse blew foam and dripped from sweat;
it obeyed every leg pressure and tug on the reins.
The trader had become concerned about his horse; he
issued the order to get it wrapped in blankets and slowly
walked back and forth; then he turned to me:
I didnt imagine this, young man; I thought you would
be thrown with the first leap. Theres no charge and if you
want to do me a favour, then come back and set the beast
completely straight. Im not hung up on ten dollars more or
less, because it isnt a cheap horse and if it learns to obey, Ill
get a good deal.
Itll be my pleasure, if you dont mind, I replied.
Henry hadnt said anything from the time I dismounted,
instead, he only shook his head and kept staring at me. But
then he clapped his hands together and exclaimed:
This greenhorn truly is a very extraordinary, or rather,
unusual greenhorn! Squeezes the horse half to death, instead
of being thrown in the sand! Who taught you that, sir?
Coincidence once gave me a half-wild stallion from the
Hungarian Puszta to ride. I conquered it eventually but
nearly risked my life doing so.
I dont wish for such creatures! Im happy with my old
rocking chair that doesnt have any objections to me sitting
on it. Come, lets go. Im getting dizzy. But Ive not seen
you shoot and ride for naught today; you can count on that.
We went home, he returned to his house and I to my
accommodation. He didnt visit during the following two
days, and I had no opportunity to go and look in on him.
However, on the third day he came by in the afternoon; he
knew I had some time off.
Would you like to take a walk? he asked.
Where to?
To see a gentleman who wishes to make your
acquaintance.
Why me?
You should be able to guess that: because he has not
seen a greenhorn before.
Then Ill go with you; he shall make my acquaintance.
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harm done tho; because the new skin can be more practical
than the old, specially in summer; can take er off when Im
sweatin, hihihi.
He hung the hat over the rifle and placed the wig back on
his head, took off the coat and placed it over a chair. The
coat had been mended and repaired many, many times with
leather patch upon leather patch and as a result, had attained
a stiffness and thickness that prevented Indian arrows from
penetrating.
Without the coat, we could more clearly see his thin,
bowed legs. He wore a hunting shirt made from leather. In
his belt he wore a knife and two pistols. When he returned to
his chair at the table, he first gave me, then the lady of the
house a mischievous glance and asked:
My lady, do you wish to tell this greenhorn what this is
all about before we begin with the meal, if Im not
mistaken?
The expression: if Im not mistaken, had become his
stock phrase. The lady of the house nodded, turned to me
and, by indicating the younger guest, explained:
Youre probably still unaware that Mr Black here is
your successor, sir.
Mymy successor? I was completely taken aback.
Indeed. Were celebrating your farewell today. Because
of your departure, we were forced to find a new teacher.
Myfarewell?
Luckily, no photographs were taken of me at that
moment because I would have looked like stupefaction
personified.
Yes, your farewell, sir, she nodded with a kind smile,
which I didnt feel was warranted because I was in no
laughing mood. We should have given you notice, but we
didnt want to be a hindrance to your good fortune as weve
grown very fond of you. We are deeply sorry to see you go
but youll take our best wishes with you. Godspeed; you will
depart tomorrow morning.
Depart? Tomorrow? Where? I found it difficult to talk.
Sam Hawkens stood next to me, patted me on the
shoulder and laughed:
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2
Klekih-Petra
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The glorious North American autumn came to a close.
We had been on the job for three months without having
solved our assignment yet, while the other surveying parties
had already returned home. There were two reasons why.
Firstly, we had a very difficult region to cover. The
railroad was to run over prairie country and follow the
southern Canadian River; the direction was, therefore, given,
right up to the source of the river, while the lay of the valleys
and passes likewise dictated the route through New Mexico.
Our section, however, was situated between the Canadian
and New Mexico and we were forced to reconnoitre and
discover the most suitable route first. That required timeconsuming rides, arduous walks and the taking of many trial
measurements for comparison before we could begin the
actual work. The fact that the region was also made
dangerous because of the local Kiowa, Comanche and
Apache. The latter didnt want to know about having a
railroad constructed through a landscape they considered was
theirs, and that compounded the matter. We had to be on our
guard constantly, which severely impeded our activity, of
course, and slowed us down.
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only knows! And its the same with the horse herds. There
once were troops of a thousand mustangs and more. Now
hunters get excited about being lucky to see a hundred in one
go.
Meanwhile we had closed in on the bison to about four
hundred paces, without the animals having noticed us and
Hawkens stopped his horse. The buffaloes slowly grazed
their way up the valley. An old bull had advanced the
farthest. I was astonished, and admired its giant body. It
would have been nigh on two metres tall and almost three
metres long; back then I didnt know how to gauge the
weight of a bison; later I would have said that the bull could
have weighed more than a ton, an incredible mass of meat
and bones. It found a puddle of mud and joyfully wallowed
in it.
Thats the lead bull, Sam whispered, the most
dangerous animal in the entire company. Someone who
tackles that one better have his last will in place. Im going
to take the young cow back there to the right. Pay attention
to where I put the bullet! Behind the shoulder blade into the
heart at an angle; thats the best, yes, the only safe shot cept
for the eye; but what insane person would tackle a bison
from the front to hit the bullseye! Stay here and duck into the
scrub there with your horse! As soon as they see me and then
flee, the mad chase will go right past here. Dont even think
of leaving this spot before I come back or call to you!
He waited until I had pushed in between two bushes and
then rode on, slowly at first. I had a strange feeling. I had
often read accounts of bison hunts; I wasnt going to learn
anything new in that respect; but theres a difference between
reading such accounts on paper and experiencing a hunt in
the wilderness. I saw bison for the first time in my life. What
sort of game had I killed thus far? They were nothing
compared to those giant, dangerous animals. The obvious
thing for me to do would have been to comply with Sams
order not to get involved; but the opposite unfolded. I had
only wanted to observe, to listen initially, but at that moment
I felt a powerful, yes, irresistible urge to be a part of it. Sam
wanted to tackle a young cow, pfui! I was of the opinion, that
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my leg. Our jump went straight into the mud pool where the
buffalo had been wallowing; luckily I saw it and pulled my
feet out of the stirrups because the horse slipped and we fell.
I still dont know how it all happened so fast but the next
moment I stood upright next to the puddle of mud with my
gun securely in my hand. The buffalo turned around to us
and clumsily bounded after the horse that had gotten up and
was about to run off. The bison presented its flank to me for
a clear shot; I aimed; the bear killer was to prove its worth
for the first time in earnest. One more leap and the bison was
going to reach the roan; I pulled the triggerthe animal
stopped mid-jump; I couldnt tell whether it was because of
fright or because I had hit it; I immediately fired the second
bullet. The buffalo slowly lifted its head, emitted a bonechilling roar, swayed back and forth a few times and then
collapsed on the spot.
I felt like jumping for joy to celebrate my hard-won
victory, but had a more pressing matter to attend. My horse
was bolting away to my right, while Sam Hawkens was
galloping along the edge of the valley to my left with another
bull after him that wasnt much smaller than the one I just
killed.
Once a bison was irritated it didnt let up from its
nemesis and developed a running speed at least equal to that
of a horse. It displayed a courage, cunning and perseverance
not readily apparent at first glance.
The steer behind Sam was hard on his horses heels. In
order to get away from it, Hawkens had to execute the most
reckless turns, which tired the horse; it wouldnt hold out as
long as the buffalo; help was needed urgently. I didnt have
the time to check whether or not my bull was really dead; I
hastily reloaded both barrels of the bear killer and then
hurried across the valley. Sam saw it; he attempted to turn
his horse in my direction. Big mistake, because that
presented the horses broadside to the bison. I watched as it
lowered its horns. With a single powerful move it lifted
horse and rider into the air and when both crashed to the
ground, it ferociously battered them repeatedly. Sam
screamed for help as loudly as he could. I was probably one
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No.
Well, I shot the cow and because my horse was in full
gallop I could only stop it when it ran into this oxen. He
didnt like it much and came for me. I quickly gave him the
second bullet from my Liddy but he didnt seem to come to
his senses because he gave me a kind of attention that I
couldnt reciprocate. He chased after me, which made it
impossible for me to reload the gun; I tossed it away because
it was no good to me and I needed both hands to steer the
horse, if Im not mistaken. The poor nag did his best, but
couldnt save himself.
Because you made that last, fatal turn. You should have
continued riding in a wide arc; that would have saved the
horse.
Saved? You speak like an old timer. Wouldnt expect
that of a greenhorn.
Pshaw! Even greenhorns have their good sides!
Yes, if it hadnt been for you Id be lyin there gored
and torn to bits like my horse. Lets go to him.
Sams horse was in a sad state. The intestines protruded
from the torn belly; it snorted with pain. Sam retrieved his
rifle, loaded and gave the horse the coup de grace. Then he
unbuckled bridle and saddle and said:
Now I can be the horse and wear the saddle on my own
back. Thats whatya get for havin a run-in with an ox.
Yes. Where are you going to get another horse from?
Thats the least of my worries. Ill catch one, if Im not
mistaken.
A mustang?
Yes. The buffalo are here; they started their migration
south; well soon be seein the mustangs too; I know it.
Can I tag along when youre going to catch one?
Naturally. You must learn that, too. But lets go and
have a look at the old bull now. He might still be alive. A
Methuselah like him can be tough.
We walked back. The animal was dead. As it lay there we
could appreciate the colossal shape even better than before.
Sam looked back and forth between the bull and me, made
an indescribable face, shook his head and remarked:
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climbed onto their horses and rode off. None wanted to stay
behind. They didnt trust each other. Among decent hunters
with a friendly relationship, game shot by one also belonged
to all of the others; such sense of fellowship was missing
among those people. When they returned later, I overheard
their accounts on how they had fallen upon the cows
carcass, like madmen and, amid fighting and cussing, each
attempted to greedily slice off the biggest and best possible
piece of meat before any of the others could beat them to it.
After they rode off, we unloaded the loin and Sams
saddle, and then I led my horse aside to unsaddle and tether
it. I took my time doing so whereby Sam had the opportunity
to tell the adventure to Parker and Stone. Their tent was
between them and me and they couldnt see me returning. I
was almost upon the tent when I heard Sam say:
Believe me; it is as I say: the fellow tackled the largest
and strongest bull and shot him as if he were an old,
experienced buffalo hunter! Of course, I made out I thought
it was utter recklessness and gave him a thorough earbashing; but I know what to think of him.
Me, too, Stone agreed. Hell turn into a decent
Westerner.
And soon, I heard Parker say.
Yes, Hawkens confirmed. You know, gents, hes born
for it, truly born for it. And then theres his physical
strength! Didnt he pull our heavy oxen cart away yesterday,
on his own and without anyones assistance? A punch from
him and youll never be the same again. But, wont you
promise me one thing?
What? Parker asked.
Dont let him know what we think of him.
Why not?
Because it could go to his head.
Oh, no!
Oh, yes! Hes a very modest fellow and not suited to
arrogance; but praising people is always a mistake; it can
spoil the best characters. Keep calling him a greenhorn; he
really is one, even if hes got all the attributes of a capable
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that you brace your horse against the jolt of the rope as soon
as its about to pull taut. If you dont, youll be toppled and
the mustang will run off and drag your horse along on the
lasso. Then you wont have a horse either and will be a
common foot soldier like I am at the moment.
He wanted to say more but didnt and, instead, pointed to
the two mountains at the northern end of the prairie. A horse
came into view, a single, riderless horse. It advanced slowly,
without grazing, and continually turned its head from one
side to the other, while it sniffed the air.
Can you see it? Sam whispered because he was
excited, even though it would have been impossible for the
horse to hear us. Didnt I say theyre coming? Thats the
scout whos ahead of the others to make sure the area is safe.
Its a smart stallion. See how hes looking and sniffing in all
directions! He wont detect us because were downwind of
him; thats why Ive chosen this spot.
The mustang fell into a trot; it ran straight ahead, then to
the right, to the left, and finally turned around and
disappeared from sight where we had first spotted it.
Did you watch him? Sam asked. How smart he acted
and used every bush for cover sos not to be detected! A Red
Indian scout couldnt have done it any better.
Thats right. Im quite astounded about it.
He went back to report to his four-legged general that
the coasts clear. But he will be mistaken, hihihi! I bet
theyre all here in ten minutes; pay attention. Dya know
how were gonna do it?
Tell me.
You quickly ride south to the end of the prairie and wait
there. Ill ride near the entry and hide there in the forest.
When the herd arrives Ill let it pass and then chase after it.
The horses will flee in your direction; then youll show
yourself and theyll turn around and run back. That way
well drive them back and forth between us until weve
chosen the two best horses; well catch them; Ill choose the
best for myself and well let the other go. Are you agreed?
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with the main group; it ran alongside the stallion; the animal
had extraordinary stamina and speed. I stayed with that
troop, and Sam seemed to do likewise.
Take them between us, me on the left, you to the right!
he shouted to me.
We spurred our horses on and not only kept pace with the
mustangs, but also quickly caught up with them before they
reached the forest. They didnt get to the trees; the troop
turned around and attempted to get away through the gap
between us. To prevent that from happening, we swiftly
moved towards each other; thats when they scattered in all
directions like a flock of chickens stirred up by a hawk. The
white stallion and the mule shot through between Sam and I,
and then separated from the others; we chased after them. As
we did, Sam swung his lasso above his head, ready for the
throw and shouted to me:
Typical greenhorn! Youll be one forever!
Why?
Because youre after the white, and only a greenhorn
would do that, hihihi!
I gave him an answer but he didnt hear it because his
loud laughter drowned out my voice. He thought I was after
the white stallion. So what! I left the mule to him and turned
to where the mustangs were running around in leaderless
confusion, snorting fearfully. As I looked back, I observed
that Sam had come close enough to the mule to throw the
lasso. The loop came to sit properly around the neck of the
animal. Sam had to stop then and, just like he had explained
to me so clearly, position his horse to anchor the taut lasso
and hold the resulting jolt. He did so, but just one moment
too late; his horse hadnt finished turning around and bracing
itself, and was thrown by the forceful yank. Sam Hawkens
sailed through the air in a most brilliant somersault and hit
the dirt. The horse quickly got up and continued running.
The lasso lost its tension, the mule stood firm and wasnt
thrown. It got its wind back and galloped away, pulling the
horse along across the prairie because the other end of the
rope was tied to the saddle horn.
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From somewhere.
Thats right. Maybe out of the blue! Thats where they
would have had to fall from because we would have seen
their tracks. No, the buffalo had to still be alive and when he
came to he dragged himself into the bushes; he would have
died there in the meantime. Lets have a look.
He and his people followed the track. Perhaps he
believed I would accompany them; I didnt because I
disliked his sneering and the way he spoke to me, and I also
had work to do; besides, I couldnt care less where the
cadaver of the old bull had ended up. I turned back to my
work, but hadnt reached for the next pole when screams of
terror arose; two, three shots cracked, and then I heard
Rattler shout:
Up into the trees, quickly into the trees, youre lost
otherwise! He cant climb.
Who was he referring to? One of his crew came running
out of the scrub in leaps that only mortal fear could produce.
Whats up, whats wrong? I called out to him.
A bear, a huge bear, a grey grizzly! he panted as he ran
past me.
At the same time someone screamed:
Help! Help! Hes got me! Ahhhahhh!
People only screamed like that when they were looking
into the gaping jaws of death. The man was in extreme
danger; he needed help. But how? I had left my gun in the
tent because it was a hindrance during work. That was not
carelessness because the Westerners were protecting the
surveyors. If I ran back to the tent first, the man was going to
be torn to pieces before I could return; I had to get to him as I
was: with only the knife and the two revolvers in my belt.
Inadequate weapons against a grizzly bear!
The grizzly is a close relative of the extinct cave bear and
a relic from prehistory. The animal can grow to more than
two and a half metres and I have killed specimens later that
weighed almost a ton. Its physical strength is enormous and
it can carry a stag, a foal or a bison heifer in its jaws and
easily trot away with it. A rider can only get away if hes got
a very strong horse with a lot of stamina, if not, the bear
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