THE BURIAL OF KLEKI-PETRAH.
THE morning dawned fair and warm, and the pueblo was early astir for the burial of K1eki-Petrah. Not all of the Apaches lived in the pueblo, for though it was large it would have been far too small to have accommodated them. Only Intschu-Tschuna and his most important braves dwelt here, forming with their families and herds of horses the central point of the tribe of Mascaleros-Apaches. From this pueblo the chief ruled over the tribe, and thence took long journeys to the various branches of the great Apache family which acknowledged him as their head.
Representatives of every tribe had assembled to pay their last tribute to the white friend whom they had all loved and honored, and who had been faithful to them even unto death.
We, my comrades and I, repaired early to the spot where the grave was to be erected. I estimated the height and breadth of the mass of stone, and then, taking a tomahawk, Hawkins, Stone, Parker, and I went through the woods, following the river downward, seeking a suitable tree from which to make a cross.
When we returned to the burial-place the sorrowful ceremonies had begun. The Indians had worked
rapidly on the construction of the tomb, which was nearly finished. It was surrounded by braves, who were intoning their peculiar and profoundly touching death-song. Its dull, monotonous tone was broken occasionally by a shrill, piercing cry, which startled the ear as a sudden flash of lightning from heavy clouds startles the eye by flashing across it. Twelve Indians were working on the tomb under the direction of the two chiefs, and between them and the singers danced a figure decked in all the insignia of his race, and making grotesque, slow motions, and curious leaps.
" Who is that - the medicine-man ? " I asked.
" Yes," Sam replied.
" Indian customs at the burial of a Catholic ! What do you say to that, my dear Sam ? "
" You don't like it ? " asked Sam.
" Certainly not."
" Then don't show it. You would offend the Apaches mortally."
" But this absurd mumming annoys me more than I can say."
" They mean well; they can't do better than they know. It isn't heathenish. These good folks believe in one Great Spirit, to whom their dead friend and teacher has gone. They bid him farewell, and mourn his death in their own way, and everything that medicine-man does has a symbolic meaning. Let them do as they will. There is no priest anywhere near here, and they won't prevent us putting our cross at the head of the grave."
As we placed the cross before the coffin Winnetou
asked: " Shall this sign of Christianity be placed over the grave ? "
" Yes."
" That is right. I should have asked my brother Old Shatterhand to make a cross, for Kleki-Petrah had one in his dwelling, and begged us to put one over his grave when he should die. Where must it stand ? "
" At the head of the grave."
"As in those great, tall houses in which Christians pray to the Great Spirit ? I have seen them. It shall be as you wish. Sit here and see that it is done properly."
In a short time the tomb was complete; it was crowned by our cross, and had an opening left to receive the coffin, which still stood outside. Then came Nscho-Tschi. She had been to the pueblo to get two clay cups, which she had taken to the river and filled with water. Having done this she returned to the grave and set them on the coffin - for what purpose I was soon to learn.
Everything was now ready for the burial. Intschu-Tschuna gave a signal with his hand for the song of lamentation to cease. The medicine-man squatted upon the ground. The chief went up to the coffin, and spoke, slowly and solemnly. " My brothers and sisters of all the tribes of the Apaches," he began, " the sun rises in the morning in the east and sinks at night into the west, and the year awakes in the spring-time and in winter sleeps again. So is it also with man. Is this true ? "
" How ! " arose heavily on all sides.
" Man rises like the sun, and sinks again into the
grave. He comes like spring upon the earth, and like winter lays himself down to rest. But though the sun sets, it shines again in the morning; and when winter disappears, once more the spring is here. Is this true ? "
" How ! "
" Thus has Kleki-Petrah taught us. Man will be laid in the grave, but beyond death he rises again, like a new day and a new spring, to live forever in the land of the great Good Spirit. This has Kleki-Petrah told us; and now he knows whether he spoke truly or not, for he has disappeared like the day and the year, and his spirit has gone to the dwelling of the dead, for which he always longed. Is this true ? "
" How ! "
" His faith was not ours, nor is our faith his. We hate our enemies and love our friends; but he taught us that man must also love his enemies, for they too are our brothers. That we do not believe; yet when we have obeyed his words it has been peaceful and well for us. Perhaps his faith is also ours, only we could not understand him as he wished to be understood. We say our spirits go to the eternal Happy Hunting Grounds, and he hoped for eternal Blessedness. Often I think our Hunting Grounds may be his Blessedness. Is this true ? "
" How ! "
" He often told us of the Saviour who came to make all men blessed. We believe in his words, because there was never a lie on his lips. This Saviour came for all men; has He been with the red man ? If He came, we
would welcome Him; for we shall be destroyed or driven away by the pale-faces, and we long for Him. Is this true ? "
" How ! "
" This was Kleki-Petrah's teaching. Now I speak of his end. It came upon him as a wild beast falls upon its prey. Sudden and unforeseen it was. He was strong and well, and stood at our side. He would have mounted his horse and ridden home with us, but the bullet of the murderer struck him. My brothers and sisters may lament him."
There arose a dull cry of woe, growing louder and higher, till it ended in a piercing shriek. Then the chief continued: " We have avenged his death. The cowardly dog who killed him was not worthy to follow him in death; he has been shot by the children, and his body floats down the stream. Is this true ? "
"How!"
"Now is the spirit of Kleki-Petrah gone from us, but his body remains, over which we raise a memorial to him, to show to our successors that we had a good White Father who was our teacher, and whom we loved. He was not born in this land, but he came from afar, beyond the big water, where oaks grow. So to honor him and speak of our love for him we have brought an oak to plant beside his grave. And as it sprouts and spreads so will his spirit grow great beyond the grave. And as the oak grows so will the words which we have heard from him sprout in our hearts, and our spirits shall find shelter under its shade. But he has not gone from without sending us a pale-face who shall be our friend
and brother in his place. Here you see Old Shatterhand, a white man who knows all that Kleki-Petrah knew, and is a stronger warrior than he. He has killed the grizzly bear with his knife, and all his foes he strikes to earth with his fist. Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou were repeatedly in his power, yet he did not slay us, but gave us our lives, because he loved us, and is a friend of the red man. Is this true ? "
" How ! "
" It was Kleki-Petrah's last word and last wish that Old Shatterhand should be his successor with the Apache warriors, and Old Shatterhand has promised to fulfil this wish. Therefore he shall be received into the Apache tribe and become a chief. It shall be as though he were red of skin, and born among us. To accomplish this he must have smoked the calumet with every grown warrior of the Apaches; but this shall not be necessary, for he will drink Winnetou's blood, and Winnetou will drink his, and then he will be blood of our blood, and flesh of our flesh. Do the Apache braves agree to this ? "
" How ! how ! how ! " arose, thrice repeated, the unanimous response of all present.
" Then let Winnefou and Old Shatterhand come here to the coffin, and let their blood drop into the water of the bond of brotherhood."
I had often read of the blood bond of brotherhood. It is a custom among many savage and half-civilized people, and usually consists of the mingling of the blood of the two making the compact, which is drunk by both, and in consequence they become more closely united,
more truly brothers, than if they had been born of the same parents.
Winnetou and I were to drink each other's blood. We placed ourselves on each side of the coffin, and Intschu-Tschuna pricked first his son's wrist, holding it over the cup which Nscho-Tschi had brought. A tiny drop of blood fell into it, and the chief set it aside. Then he repeated the proceeding with me, and a tiny drop of my blood fell into the other cup. Winnetou took the cup containing my blood in his hand, and I received the one with his. Then Intschu-Tschuna said: "Life dwells in the blood. The souls of these two young men shall mingle till there is but one soul in them. Old Shatterhand's thoughts shall be Winnetou's thoughts, and what Winnetou wills that shall also be the will of Old Shatterhand. Drink ! " I raised my cup as Winnetou raised his. It was Rio Pecos water, to which the single drop of blood in it imparted no taste. As we set down the empty cups the chief took my hand and said: " Thou art now the son of my flesh equally with Winnetou, and a warrior of our people. The renown of thy deeds shall be quickly known everywhere, and no other warrior shall surpass thee. Thou art a chief of the Apaches, and all branches of our people shall honor thee as such."
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 wordfi, - a longing like that of the people of Israel as they waited for the Messias.
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."
" No, Intschu-Tschuna," I said. " Rather should I thank Him for the love and kindness I find so far from home, and among a strange people."
" They are your people now," said Nscho-Tschi quickly.
" And we are all happy and blest in one another," said Winnetou. " All grateful for the happy ending of a story begun in sorrow and wrath. Come, my brother; let us go to the dwelling of our father Intschu-Tschuna. A new life has begun for us all today."
And so we walked together to the great pueblo, silent
and peaceful, though saddened by the solemn ceremony and parting from one the three Indians had loved so well.
Winnetou spoke truly: though the story of our meeting ended here, a new life had indeed begun; and unconscious of what lay before us we went home together, turning our backs on what had been, and setting our faces towards the future.